Page 21 of S'more Mountain Man

"Pine Ridge," he said finally. "Lost a member of our crew. A good man. Another almost didn’t make it—he’s alive but his scars run deep."

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer as if seeking comfort from my presence. "It's just... after that, I needed space. Quiet. Control."

"And I'm basically chaos incarnate," I said, understanding dawning.

"Beautiful chaos." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering. "Unexpected. But not unwelcome."

I raised my hand to cup his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard against my palm. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." His eyes held mine, a vulnerability in them I hadn't seen before. "I've been alone a long time, Skye. By choice. But with you..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "With you, it doesn't feel like I'm giving something up. It feels like I'm finding something I didn't know was missing."

The confession, so quietly spoken, stole my breath. I kissed him then, pouring everything I couldn't yet say into the gesture—my wonder at finding this connection, my fear of its fragility, my wish for it to last forever.

We fell silent after that, the only sound our breathing and the distant chorus of night insects. I felt myself drifting, lulled by the warmth of his body and the exhaustion of the day.

"Skye?" he murmured, his voice already thick with approaching sleep.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for getting lost."

I smiled against his chest. "Thank you for finding me."

Sleep claimed us both then, wrapped in each other's arms beneath a canopy of stars we could no longer see but knew were there.

***

I woke with a start, disoriented in the unfamiliar darkness. A warm weight pressed along my back—Leif's arm, draped over my waist. His steady breathing told me he was still asleep, each exhale a warm puff against my neck.

Carefully, I extracted myself from his embrace, shivering as the cool pre-dawn air hit my bare skin. I fumbled for my clothes, pulling them on as quietly as possible. The digital watch I'd left in my pocket read 4:37 AM. The kids would be up in a couple of hours, eager for breakfast and more activities.

The reality of the situation settled over me like a physical weight. I'd just slept with a man I'd met less than 48 hours ago. A man who lived alone in the woods by choice. A man who, by his own admission, had spent years avoiding human connection.

What had I been thinking?

I hadn't been thinking—that was the problem. I'd been feeling. And it had been wonderful. Electric. Unlike anything I'd experienced before.

But now, in the quiet darkness before dawn, doubts crept in. What did this mean? What did he expect? What did I want?

I needed air.

As silently as possible, I unzipped the tent flap and slipped outside. The camp was still and peaceful, the only sound the soft rustle of wind through the pines. Above, the sky was a tapestry of stars, clearer than I'd seen in years, the Milky Way a bright swath across the darkness. The air was cold and crisp, carrying the scent of pine and wood smoke from the now-dead campfire.

I hugged my arms around myself, not from cold so much as uncertainty. Last night had been... magical. There was no other word for it. But magic wasn't real, was it? It was just physics and chemistry. Reactions. Impulses.

I settled onto a large rock near the tent, tilting my head back to take in the enormity of the sky. The stars always helped me think, put things in perspective. But tonight, they only reminded me of the vast differences between Leif and me.

He was rooted here, in this wilderness, by choice and by pain. I had a life in Missoula—students, friends, an apartment with glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. We existed in different worlds that had briefly, unexpectedly collided.

A comet suddenly streaked across the sky, bright and fleeting, leaving a faint silver trail that faded almost instantly. I made a wish before I could stop myself, a childish impulse left over from nights spent stargazing with my father.

I wish...

But what did I wish for? A summer fling with a gorgeous mountain man? Something more permanent? Both seemed equally impossible.

Leif Brannick wasn't the kind of man you got to keep. He belonged to the wilderness, to his solitude, to the life he'd carefully constructed away from people like me.

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