Page 8 of Charming Mountain Man

“I think I’ve got it,” I whisper, huskier than intended.

His gaze lingers on mine, dark and intense. “I think you do.”

A charged silence settles between us, the air thickening with unspoken attraction. My breath catches as his eyes drift briefly to my lips before pulling away, clearing his throat roughly.

“We should check your ankle again,” he says, breaking the tension. His voice, though steady, carries a slight roughness that sends heat through my veins.

Back in the tent, Garrett carefully examines my ankle once more. His touch is gentle yet firm, each movement deliberate and controlled. My skin tingles wherever his fingers graze, my body acutely aware of his closeness.

“It’s improving,” he says quietly, finally meeting my eyes again.

“Thanks to you,” I whisper softly, the sincerity thick in my voice.

His expression softens further, vulnerability briefly surfacing beneath his usual guardedness. “I’m glad I found you in time.”

I reach out impulsively, covering his hand with mine. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m glad you did too,” I confess softly.

His gaze searches mine deeply, conflict and desire warring visibly within him. My heart pounds rapidly, anticipation and longing building unbearably between us.

“Callie,” he breathes, voice low and rough.

“Yes?” My voice is barely audible, caught in the tension between us.

Garrett exhales slowly, pulling his hand gently from mine. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Disappointment flickers through me, tempered by understanding. He’s right, of course. But as we settle back into our respective spaces within the small tent, I can’t shake the growing awareness that Garrett Pierce has irrevocably worked his way into my heart—and resisting him is quickly becoming impossible.

Chapter Six

Garrett

Sleep evades me entirely. I lie awake, staring at the shadowed fabric ceiling of the tent, acutely aware of Callie’s gentle breathing mere inches away. Every tiny sound, every soft exhale, every subtle shift she makes pulls at my focus, twisting my thoughts into knots I’m not used to feeling. Frustrated by my restlessness, I finally slip quietly from my sleeping bag, careful not to disturb her, and unzip the tent to step outside.

The night air is refreshingly cool, washing away some of the lingering tension. Stars scatter across the sky in brilliant clusters, untouched by city lights, sparkling like scattered diamonds against velvet darkness. The storm has passed entirely, leaving behind an almost surreal peace.

I gather some of the firewood Callie and I prepared earlier, effortlessly coaxing a gentle fire to life. The familiar task soothes me slightly, the warmth and crackling sounds comforting in their simplicity.

“Can’t sleep?” Callie’s soft voice breaks into my solitude, and I glance over my shoulder to see her carefully emerging from the tent, favoring her injured ankle.

“You should be resting,” I remind her gently, moving instinctively to offer my support. She leans gratefully against me, her closeness reigniting that dangerous awareness that seems to simmer constantly beneath the surface.

“I tried,” she admits softly, settling beside me in front of the fire. Her eyes lift to the stars, a small smile curving her lips. “But it’s too beautiful out here to sleep.”

I nod silently, following her gaze upward. We sit quietly for a while, comfortable in the silence, the firelight flickering warmly between us.

“Garrett,” she eventually whispers, breaking the quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” My voice is cautious, unsure of what direction she’ll take.

She hesitates, biting her lip thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “You mentioned leaving behind a stressful job and a marriage that fell apart. What happened?”

I sigh deeply, rubbing a weary hand over my face. Normally, I’d deflect, avoid digging into painful memories. But something about Callie’s gentle presence, her genuine interest, and the quiet of this moment beneath endless stars compels honesty.

“My ex-wife and I married young. We thought we knew what we wanted, but we didn’t know ourselves, let alone each other.” My voice is low, no longer filled with old bitterness tempered by time. “We drifted apart, both chasing our careers, until one day we looked at each other and realized we’d become strangers.”

Callie listens attentively, compassion softening her expression. “That sounds lonely.”

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