Page 6 of Burning for the Mountain Man
“Ever feel like everyone else got a memo you missed?” The words came out quieter than I intended. “Like there’s this secret to life everyone knows except you?”
He didn’t answer right away. The fire popped, filling the silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, raw.
“Every damn day.”
Something in the way he said it made my chest tighten. There was pain—old, buried deep—and I suddenly wanted to know the story behind it. But I barely knew him, and Wilder wasn’t the type to hand over his secrets.
“You know what the worst part is?” I said softly. “I’m happy for her. I really am. Sienna deserves that kind of love. But sitting there tonight, watching them together…” I shook my head. “I felt like an outsider in my own life.”
“Why?”
“Because I have no idea what that feels like. To look at someone and just know. To have someone look at you like you hung the moon.” I tried to laugh, but it came out brittle. “I’m twenty-three, and I’ve never even been close.”
Wilder leaned back against the hearth, the firelight carving shadows along his jaw. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”
“Maybe.” I studied his face, catching the way he avoided my eyes. “What about you? Ever been close to that?”
His expression closed off instantly. “No.”
The single word landed like a door slamming shut. But behind it, I caught a glimpse of something—loss, maybe, or guilt. Whatever it was, it had teeth.
“Bobbi’s pretty subtle with her matchmaking?” I asked, shifting the topic but keeping the spark alive.
He huffed a laugh. “About as subtle as a brick through a window.”
“Think she’ll keep finding things for you to fix while I’m here?”
This time, when he looked at me, his gaze was steady. Intense. I felt it in every nerve ending.
“Probably.”
“Good,” I said softly.
His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his calm. Maybe I’d surprised myself too—but something about sitting here with him, the scent of cedar smoke and heat between us, made me bold.
“Sage—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “You’re going to tell me this is a bad idea. That you’re not looking for anything, or I’m just visiting, or whatever reason you’ve convinced yourself. But I like talking to you. I like you. And unless I’m completely off base, you feel something too.”
He didn’t move for a long moment. My heart thudded against my ribs, waiting for the rejection that would make me wish I’d kept quiet.
Instead, he said quietly, “You’re not misreading anything.”
The air between us thickened, charged with something neither of us wanted to name yet. But it was real. Tangible. And for the first time since I’d arrived in Wildwood Valley, I felt like maybe I’d found something worth holding on to.
“I should probably see more of the town while I’m here,” I said after a moment, trying to sound casual even though my pulse hadn’t recovered. “I’ve only been to the diner and here. I’m working toward my real estate license, actually, and I keep wondering if a place like Wildwood Valley has opportunities. Small towns back home don’t always have much for sale.”
Something shifted in his expression—interest softening his features. “You’re studying real estate?”
“Yeah. I’m taking the courses online, but everyone says you have to go to the big cities to make any money.”
“Not necessarily.” He leaned forward, his tone warming. “Cabins are going up all over these mountains. Development’s picking up fast—tourism, rentals, city folks wanting weekend places. The market’s about to boom here.”
My heart did a little flip. Not just because of what he said—but because of how he said it. Like he wanted me to succeed. Like he wanted me to stay.
“Really? Are there places I could see? Just to get a feel for the market?”
He hesitated, weighing something in his mind. Then, finally?—
