Page 24 of S'more Mountain Man

"You're both acting weird. Like when my parents fight but pretend they're not fighting in front of me. Not yelling-fight. Just that quiet thing where nobody's smiling anymore." He shrugged. "It's okay. Grown-ups are complicated."

With that profound observation, he wandered off to join his friends, leaving me staring after him in disbelief. Was our tension that obvious? Or were kids just a lot more perceptive than we gave them credit for?

By mid-morning, Skye had wrapped up her final lesson, and the kids were being herded toward the lake for swimming and lunch. She found me near my Jeep, where I'd been doing a final check before heading out. The sun had burned off the morning fog, leaving behind a perfect summer day—blue sky, gentle breeze, the scent of pine hanging in the air.

"So," she said, her expression somber. "I guess this is it."

"I guess so."

"Will you at least let me buy you dinner sometime? As a thank-you for saving me from becoming a cautionary tale for future hikers?"

The offer was meant to lighten the mood, but we both knew it wasn't going to happen. Dinner meant a date. A date meant something continuing. Something continuing meant complications neither of us was prepared to navigate.

"Skye—"

"No, you're right." She cut me off with a quick shake of her head. "Bad idea. Forget I asked."

I wanted to tell her it wasn't a bad idea. That in another life, I'd take her to dinner every night. Hell, I’d learn to be a gourmet chef if that’s what would make her happy. The thought of driving away from her now felt wrong in so many ways. But the words stuck in my throat.

"I should help you pack up," I said instead of voicing the thoughts running through my mind. "Your car tire will need to be replaced before you drive back to Missoula."

"One of the dads here is a mechanic. He offered to swap it out later." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "But thanks."

"Right."

We stood there, awkward in a way we hadn't been even when she was covered in mud and I was holding an axe.

"Well," she said finally. "I should go help with lunch. Those kids are going to be starving after swimming."

"Sure."

She turned to go, then stopped. "It was nice meeting you, Mountain Man."

"You too, Science Teacher."

A small smile curved her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. She hesitated, as if there was more she wanted to say, then shook her head slightly and walked away.

I watched her go, memorizing the sway of her hips, the way the sunlight caught in her dark hair, the determined set of her shoulders. She didn't look back.

I knew I should get in the Jeep and drive away. This was the clean break we both needed. One amazing night, no regrets, no complications.

But my feet refused to move.

Mandy found me still standing there ten minutes later, staring at the spot where Skye had disappeared around the corner of the main lodge.

"You're an idiot," she said without preamble.

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She crossed her arms, giving me an appraising look. "You like her."

"It's not that simple."

"Actually, it is. You like her. She likes you. The rest is just details."

I shook my head. "Details like living three hours apart? Details like completely different lifestyles?"

"Please." She rolled her eyes. "I've known Skye since college. That girl has been stargazing in the middle of nowhere since she was old enough to hold a telescope. You think she's afraid of a little wilderness?"

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