Page 2 of Branded Mountain Man
"This is how it works." He stepped closer, and Sloan had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "I didn't ask for a babysitter. I don't need a therapist. And I sure as hell don't need some city girl hiking up here to tell me how to feel about my life."
City girl. Sloan's temper flared. "I'm from Montana, actually. And I've spent more time in the wilderness than most of your trail crew combined."
"Good for you." He turned away again. "Use all that wilderness experience to find your way back down the mountain."
A low rumble of thunder rolled across the valley, and Sloan glanced up at the sky. The afternoon clouds had been building while she'd been focused on finding the tower, and they'd gone from puffy white to ominous gray while she wasn't paying attention.
"Shit." She pulled out her phone to check the weather app, but still, there was no signal.
"Storm's moving fast." Colt's voice had lost some of its hostility, replaced by something that sounded almost like concern. "You need to get down the mountain. Now."
Another rumble, closer this time. The wind picked up, sending pine needles skittering across the clearing.
Sloan looked at the trail she'd just climbed, then at the darkening sky. She was a competent hiker, but she wasn't stupid. Getting caught in a mountain storm was a cautionary tale in itself.
"How long until it hits?"
Colt glanced at the clouds, his expression grim. "Twenty minutes. Maybe less."
The first fat raindrops splattered against her cheek as if to prove his point.
"Fuck." Sloan ran a hand through her hair, weighing her options. They were all bad. "Okay. I need shelter."
"Tower's the only option." He didn't sound happy about it, but he was already moving toward the stairs. "Come on. Before this gets ugly."
She followed him up the newly rebuilt steps, her pack bouncing against her back as the wind picked up. By the time they reached the platform, the rain was coming down in earnest.
Colt yanked open the door to the cab and gestured her inside. "Welcome to the Ritz."
The interior of the fire tower was small but functional. Someone—Colt, obviously—had turned it into a livable space. A narrow cot was pushed against one wall, with a small wood stove opposite and a tiny table that served as both a desk and a kitchen counter. Everything was clean, organized, and utterly masculine.
"You live here?" Sloan asked, setting down her pack.
"I work here." He moved around the small space with familiar efficiency, checking the windows and adjusting something on the stove. "Storm should blow through by morning."
Morning. Sloan processed that information with growing unease. "I can't stay overnight. All of my belongings are at base camp. I was only supposed to come up to do an introduction before we did some hiking tomorrow."
"You can't leave, either." Colt pulled off his flannel and hung it on a peg by the door, leaving him in a faded gray t-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders. "Unless you want me to explain to the Forest Service why their therapist died of exposure on her first wellness check."
Outside, the wind howled, and rain lashed against the windows. Lightning flickered, followed by a crack of thunder that made the whole tower vibrate.
Sloan looked around the tiny space, then at Colt, who was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"This is going to be a long night," she said.
"Yeah." His voice was rough, quiet. "It is."
COLT
Colt Ramsey had been living alone on this mountain for years now, and he'd gotten good at avoiding people. He'd chosen this place specifically because it was off the beaten path, forgotten, and far enough from civilization that unexpected visitors were impossible.
Apparently, he hadn't gone far enough.
The woman—Sloan—stood in the middle of his carefully organized space like she belonged there, dripping rainwater onto his floor and looking around with the kind of professional assessment that made his teeth itch. She was exactly what he'dexpected from the Forest Service: competent, confident, and completely out of place.
She was also nothing like what he'd expected.
For one thing, she was curvy in all the right places, with long, dark hair that was escaping from her ponytail and brown eyes that seemed to see too much. For another, she hadn't backed down when he'd tried to intimidate her into leaving. Most people took one look at him and decided they had somewhere else to be.
