Page 8 of My Fearless Mountain Man

My brow furrows. I don’t think I wrote about nightmares to him. I had some, of course, but they faded fast. “My nightmares ended quickly, thanks to you. It’s hard to linger on the bad when there’s good to focus on.”

He arches an eyebrow and snorts. “Only you would see getting caught in a fire as something good.”

“Being saved by you and knowing that good people exist in this world isverygood,” I counter. “It wasn’t all good. I know that. But the burns healed and it gave me a new perspective on life.”

I step carefully over a cluster of stones, making sure not to trip and give him another reason to save me. Then he speaks, his voice quiet but certain.

“Not all experiences are good ones.”

“Six years ago?” I glance over at him.

He shakes his head. “You weren’t a casualty. It’s not a bad memory.”

“Not bad isn’t quite the same as good,” I say with a soft laugh. “But I’ll take it.”

I nod toward the rest of the trail. “You really planning to clear all this on your own?”

“Eventually,” he says. His eyes are on me, like he’s waiting for me to move on, but there’s something else there too. Something I can’t quite pin down.

“I’d offer to help,” I say, glancing at the rocks, “but let’s be honest. You’d probably end up doing double the work trying to keep me from twisting an ankle.”

“It’s my job,” he answers, simple as ever. Maybe he’s run out of words, or maybe he’s keeping something in.

“You should go back to town,” he adds. “Weather might turn.”

I smile, looking over at him. “Ok, I stop slowing you down. You’ve got enough to do with all these rocks.”

He nods once, then turns his attention back to his task, clearly focused on the trail ahead.

“So, you’ll be alright here? Sure you don’t need company?” I ask, half-smiling as I back away.

A flicker passes across his face, a brief flash of something almost like amusement, before it’s gone, and he’s back to moving rocks as if nothing happened.

But I saw it.

Anyway, I don’t want to overwhelm him. I want this to be a good experience, not a ‘not bad one’ for him. I try to calm my excitement for meeting him and accept we’re done ... for now. “Ok ok, I’m leaving, you win.” I say with a teasing smile.

I can feel him watching me as I head down the trail. It hums across my skin, a current that fades with each step I take. Even though it buzzes through me like static, sharp and warm, part of me wants to turn around. Find any excuse to stay. Ask him a question, tease out another look, just... be near him a little longer.

But I don’t.

Because if I want to see him again—reallysee him—I need to walk away now. I didn’t come here just to chase a man, even one like Calder. I have plans, things I promised myself I’d do. And even though I already extended my Airbnb another week, I need more than a moment of heat and confusion to justify staying. I need a sign that this pull between us is real. That he wants more, too.

Still, I can’t help crossing my fingers as I walk. Hoping this won’t be the last time we talk. Hoping the next time we meet—maybe right here on this same trail—it won’t feel like an accident.

It’ll feel like the start of something.

Unfortunately, in the hour it takes me to get tired, turn around, and return to the same spot, he’s gone. The trail has been cleared and there’s really no sign that there was ever a pile of rocks anywhere. Which means I return to my cabin and go through my routine alone, until I end up in bed.

I close my eyes and exhale slowly, letting my hand trail down my stomach. My skin is warm, sensitive, like it’s been waiting for this moment all day.

But it’s not just my hand I feel. It’s his.

Calder.

Rough fingers skim over my belly, patient and sure, as if he’s been touching me like this forever. As if he knows exactly how to get past every wall I’ve tried to keep up.

“I’ve got you, Nora,” he murmurs, low and steady. “I’m not letting go.”

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