Page 11 of My Fearless Mountain Man

I exhale and close my eyes, running through every excuse I can think of to stay focused on the trail and not on her.

No reports of downed trees. No overgrowth. This path is one of the most popular—well-worn, easy to navigate, barely needs a ranger at all.

There’s no real reason to be here.

Except her.

And that’s exactly why I should keep moving. But it’s also exactly why I don’t.

“Did you go further on the trail, Nora?” I ask.

“Um, yes. I went to the loop point.”

“Was the trail clear and easy to follow?”

She pauses, keeping her knee slightly bent, careful not to put weight on it. “Yeah. It was clear. No trouble at all.”

Then she glances back the way she came. “I only tripped a few minutes ago—just off the edge near that last bend. My fault for not watching where I was stepping.”

She glances up at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Feel familiar?”

I huff out a breath. “You’re not in my arms. That’s the win.”

Her smile deepens, just slightly.

“As if being in your arms is something I’d complain about,” she murmurs.

Her eyes go wide the moment she realizes what she’s said. I exhale slowly.

“I mean… it wasn’t bad. For me,” she adds quickly, cheeks coloring. “I don’t know if I was too heavy or uncomfortable or—”

She flinches when her knee bumps mine, and I don’t hesitate.

I scoop her up again, one arm under her legs, the other steady at her back.

“Happy now? It’s a quarter mile to the parking lot,” I say.

She breathes out softly. “Right.”

I think of anything other than her as I walk. I ignore how right she feels in my arms, how natural it is to curl her towards my chest, how fucking good she smells. It’s only to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Only to make sure there’s nothing she can say to my boss that would get me in trouble, I tell myself.

We walk in silence for a while, the only sound the distant birds and the soft rustle of wind through the trees. Her weight is steady in my arms, but I can feel her watching me.

After a few moments, she speaks—not loudly, not hesitantly either. Just... thoughtfully.

“You get this faraway look sometimes,” she says. “Like you’re here, but not really.”

I glance at her, but she doesn’t look away.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness lately,” she says, her voice soft.

She takes a slow breath, as if weighing her words. “Do you ever stop and wonder if you’re truly happy, Calder?”

The question catches me off guard, and I blink, processing it before responding. “I’m content.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You are very focused on wording,” I comment.

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