Page 14 of S'more Mountain Man

Tyler considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Makes sense. That's why I brought bear spray. And a whistle. And a knife."

"You did not bring a knife," Skye said firmly.

"Just a pocket one," Tyler protested. "For whittling. And emergency bear defense."

I caught Skye's eye over the kids' heads and had to fight back a smile at her exasperated expression.

The afternoon passed in a blur of activity. Skye had planned a series of hands-on astronomy lessons—building scale models of the solar system, learning to use star charts, exploring the different types of telescopes. She moved between groups, patient and encouraging, her passion for the subject obvious in every explanation.

A small hand tugged at my sleeve. I looked down to find Lily, the girl with the glasses, staring up at me.

"Are you Skye's boyfriend?" she asked bluntly.

I blinked. "No."

"Do you want to be?"

Jesus Christ. "Isn't there a solar system you should be building?"

"I finished mine already. It's anatomically correct. That means I got the sizes right." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "You didn't answer my question."

"That's because it's not an appropriate question."

"My mom says that when grown-ups say something's not appropriate, it means the answer is yes but they don't want to admit it."

I stared at her, at a complete loss for words. She stared back, unblinking behind her enormous glasses, her expressioneerily knowing for someone who probably still watched cartoons.

"Hey, Lily!" Skye called from across the room. "Come help me explain lunar phases!"

Saved by the science teacher. Lily gave me one last knowing look before skipping off to join Skye.

Throughout the afternoon, I noticed Mandy watching me with the same analytical gaze as Lily, though mercifully with fewer direct questions. She cornered Skye at one point, and though I couldn't hear their conversation, the wild gesticulating and Skye's flushed cheeks told me enough.

By the time dinner rolled around, I'd been drafted into helping serve food, fixing a wobbly table leg, and explaining to Tyler why, despite what his uncle had told him, you couldn't actually survive drinking your own urine in the wilderness for more than a very short time.

"But Bear Grylls—" he began.

"Is on TV," I finished for him. "Find clean water. Filter it. Or boil it. That's the rule."

"Have you ever had to drink your pee?" he asked, eyes wide.

"No. And neither will you if you're prepared."

He nodded, clearly filing this away for future reference. "Cool. Can you show me how to make a snare? For rabbits?"

"Tyler!" Skye called. "Leave Leif alone and come get your dinner!"

Tyler scampered off, but not before giving me a conspiratorial wink. "We'll talk snares later," he whispered.

I shook my head, wondering how I'd ended up here, discussing wilderness survival with a kid who probably knewmore about Fortnite than foraging. All because a woman in inappropriate footwear had gotten lost on my mountain.

My mountain. When had I started thinking of it that way?

After dinner, as the sun began to set, we moved the operation outside. Skye directed the setup of the telescopes in the meadow, positioning them for optimal viewing as the sky darkened. The kids spread out blankets and sleeping bags, chattering excitedly as the first stars began to appear.

A small group of parents who were serving as chaperones hung back, watching with amusement as their children transformed from screen-obsessed zombies to enthusiastic astronomers.

"You've got a gift with them," one mother said to Skye. "My son hasn't put his phone down for months, but he hasn't even looked at it since you started talking about meteor showers."

---