Page 12 of Surrendering to the Mountain Man

Without thinking, I shrug off my flannel shirt and drape it around her shoulders. She jumps slightly in surprise before nestling into the warmth, the sight making my heart swell.

"Thanks," she says, fingers playing with the frayed edges of my shirt.

"Can't have you catching a cold out here," I reply gruffly.

She smiles up at me, emerald eyes dancing. "This is really cozy. Do I make a good lumberjack now?"

I chuckle despite myself. "I'd say you're well on your way."

Seeing Gemma enveloped in my shirt, wearing my colors, it does something to me. It makes me feel protective, proprietary even, like she's letting me take care of her.

I clear my throat, pulse thrumming. "You keep that on as long as you need. Plenty more where it came from."

"Such a gentleman," Gemma teases, snuggling deeper into the flannel. "I think I'll hold onto this for now, though. It smells like you."

My breath catches at her words, my heart skipping several beats. I don't trust myself to respond; I just nod mutely as desire courses through me, hot and urgent as lava.

Gemma smiles softly, knowingly, as she pulls the shirt tighter around herself. And I wonder if she feels this magnetic pull between us, too.

After everyone else has headed home for the night, I find myself restless, thoughts filled with Gemma. I grab two cold beers from the cooler and make my way over to where she sits, gazing up at the stars.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask gruffly, holding out one of the bottles.

She looks up, surprised but pleased. "Not at all. I'd love some company."

I settle beside her, and we twist off the bottlecaps, clinking our drinks together before taking long swigs.

"It's so peaceful out here at night," Gemma says softly. "Makes you realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things."

I nod, following her gaze up to the infinite spray of stars. "Spent many a night under these stars. They have a way of putting things into perspective."

We sit in companionable silence for several moments before I work up the nerve to speak again.

"Listen, I owe you an apology," I begin hesitantly. "I've been a stubborn, arrogant jackass about all this from the start. Shouldn't have been so quick to judge your plans without understanding them."

Gemma looks at me in surprise, eyes searching my face.

"I appreciate that, Ash," she says finally. "And I haven't exactly been open-minded about your way of doing things either. I guess we both came in with our prejudices."

I exhale, relieved she doesn't resent my idiocy.

"Well, clean slate going forward then," I propose, clinking my bottle to hers again. "No more lumberjack versus glamping nonsense. We're on the same team here."

"I'd like that," Gemma says, eyes crinkling as she smiles. "I think we have more in common than we realized. We’re both ambitious and passionate about our work." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "And both a little stubborn sometimes."

I chuckle at that. "Can't argue with you there."

I glance over at Gemma, her profile softly illuminated in the moonlight. The tension that's crackled between us for weeks seems to have evaporated, leaving an easy camaraderie in its wake.

She looks relaxed, almost serene, as she gazes at the glittering sky. On impulse, I lift my arm and drape it gently across her shoulders. I feel her tense for a split second before she melts into me, nestling her head in the crook of my neck.

My heart pounds at her closeness. I stay perfectly still, barely breathing, scared to ruin this moment. Her hair tickles my cheek, and I catch a whiff of her bright and citrusy shampoo.

We sit like that for long moments, her body molded to mine. The only sounds are the leaves rustling in the breeze and our slow, steady breaths mingling together.

I've never been this physically close to Gemma before. Her petite frame fits so naturally against me it's like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Gradually, I feel her fingers intertwine with mine, giving my hand a soft squeeze. My stomach flips at the intimate gesture.

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