Page 8 of Surrendering to the Mountain Man

I scowl at him but say nothing. As irritating as Birch can be, he's right. I can't stop thinking about Gemma, no matter how much I try to distract myself. The feeling of her lips lingers, soft and warm against my own.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. "It was just a foolish impulse, nothing more. I'm not bothered by it."

Birch crosses his arms, clearly not convinced. "Come on, I saw that kiss. You two have some serious chemistry bubbling. Maybe instead of battling the woman, you ought to make her your mountain lady already."

"Don't be absurd," I snap. "She's the enemy. I could never be with someone like her."

"Your lips sure didn't seem to mind last night," Birch laughs.

I scowl and turn back to chopping, letting the rhythmic thwack of the axe provide an excuse not to respond. As much as I wish it weren’t true, Birch has a point. There's an undeniable attraction between Gemma and me, as much as I want to resist it. And try as I might to forget that kiss, thoughts of her soft lips keep invading my mind.

Alone in the forest later,I find my thoughts drifting unbidden to Gemma. Where is she right now? What is she doing? Despite our differences, I can't deny that kiss awakened something in me. A longing, a curiosity to know more about this bold, brazen woman who appeared in our little mountain town.

As irritating as her fancy resort is to my traditional sensibilities, I have to admit she's got grit. Building an entire luxury camping empire out here, all on her own? I'd never admit it to Birch, but that takes guts. And her fiery passion when she talks about her dreams is... intoxicating.

I stop on the trail, shaking my head. Get it together, Ash. She's the enemy, I remind myself sternly. I can't afford to get distracted by a pair of pretty green eyes. Not when everything my family has built over generations could be at stake.

But as I try to sleep that night, my thoughts keep drifting back to her. I toss and turn restlessly, visions of Gemma swirling through my mind. I imagine pinning her against an oak tree, claiming her mouth again in a fierce, passionate kiss. Her body melts against mine as I run my hands through her silky hair...

I startle awake, heart racing. This is getting ridiculous. I scrub a hand over my face in frustration. How can I still be so distracted by a woman who, by all rights, should be my sworn enemy? But no matter how much I try to resist, I can't deny this intense attraction. Gemma has gotten under my skin, and I have no idea how to get her out.

I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing thoughts. The moonlight streams through the cabin window as I stare up at the ceiling, willing myself to go back to sleep. But it's no use. Gemma's face keeps flashing through my mind.

With a grunt of frustration, I throw off the covers and sit up, raking a hand through my messy hair. This woman is going to be the death of me. I keep telling myself she's the enemy and that I can't trust her. But there's a fire in Gemma that calls to me. She's not afraid to stand up to us mountain men, to fight for what she believes in. I've never met someone so passionate, so free-spirited.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I stare out at the shadowy forest. This obsession over Gemma needs to stop. I'm Ash Nilsson, for crying out loud. I don't moon over women, especially not strong-willed city girls looking to transform our mountain.

With determination, I turn from the window. I'll put these foolish notions out of my mind. Come morning light, it'll be backto business as usual. I'll bury myself in the day's work, focus on each swing of the axe, each towering pine falling. Hard labor is the cure for wandering thoughts.

I lie back down, folding my arms behind my head. As I close my eyes, Gemma's face appears again, those plump lips curving into a teasing smile. I groan, rubbing my bearded jaw. Apparently, she won't be so easy to forget.

8

GEMMA

Ifluff the plush faux-fur pillows in the great room of the check-in lodge and smooth out the handwoven wool blankets draped artfully across the leather couches. With Nova and a local construction company’s help, everything is finally in place to welcome the first guests to my labor of love—White Pine Glamping Retreat.

I step back and admire my work transforming this rustic log cabin into a cozy luxury lounge, but as my eyes drift to the crackling stone fireplace, Ash's rugged face flashes through my mind. I remember his intense stare as we argued at O’Malley’s bar last week, the firelight accentuating his sharp cheekbones and full beard. The memory makes my pulse quicken.

"Get it together, Gemma," I mutter under my breath. I came to White Pine Mountain to build my glamping empire, not moon over a stubborn lumberjack who sees me as the enemy.

Just then, the front door swings open and my assistant Nova bustles in with a clipboard. "Gemma! The flower arrangements for the tents just arrived. Where do you want..."

Her voice fades away as I force myself to focus. I have a retreat to open and success to achieve. No handsome lumberjack can distract me from my dreams. I am in control here.

But as we discuss the final details, I can't stop my traitorous imagination from wondering what it would feel like to have Ash's strong arms wrapped around me, to experience his rough hands roaming over my skin.

"Alright, team, gather around,”I tell my staff. “We’ll welcome our first guests to White Pine Glamping in just two days. We’ve worked for weeks to get to this point, but the real work starts now. We must pull together to ensure every guest has an amazing, unforgettable experience."

My team nods enthusiastically as I review guidelines for respecting the pristine natural environment and local wildlife. This land is not ours to conquer but to nurture.

"Remember, offer help, but don't impose. Give guests space to immerse themselves in nature's majesty." I make meaningful eye contact with each staff member. "The beauty of this place will speak for itself if we let it."

After the meeting, I channel my nervous energy into styling the glamping tents. I select cozy flannel blankets, arrange antler chandeliers, and lay plush hand-carved bearskin rugs over the beds. I want guests to be cocooned in rustic luxury the moment they arrive.

Stepping back to survey my work, I imagine Ash's flannel-clad arms wrapping around me from behind. "Not bad city girl," he'd murmur in my ear. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tantalizing image away.

Taking a deep breath, I lace up my hiking boots and head out to walk the trails myself. I need to make sure they're clearly marked and accessible for guests of all fitness levels.

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