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I swallowed hard. “I don’t need saving.”
“I know.” His gaze was steady. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.”
Something in my chest tightened.
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
So I didn’t.
Instead, I walked past him, continuing up the trail.
If he noticed my silence, he didn’t push.
But I felt his presence beside me the whole way up.
The view from the top was breathtaking.
The lake stretched out below us, shimmering under the sun, framed by towering evergreens.
It was the kind of view people wrote about, painted, dreamed of. I crossed my arms, inhaling deeply.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
Christian stepped beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. It is.”
Something about the way he said it made me glance at him, my stomach flipping when I realized he wasn’t looking at the view—he was looking at me.
My pulse skipped.
I swallowed. “You’re really insufferable, you know that?”
His lips twitched. “I’ve heard that before.”
I rolled my eyes, turning back toward the lake.
I didn’t realize he’d moved closer until I felt the heat of him at my back.
Slow. Deliberate.
His fingers brushed my wrist, barely a touch, but I felt it everywhere.
“Scarlett,” he murmured.
I turned my head just as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin.
This time, I didn’t stop him.
I kissed him first.
Dinner was simple—grilled fish, roasted vegetables, a bottle of wine we barely touched.
The tension between us had been simmering all day, a slow burn I wasn’t sure how to handle.
I wasn’t used to wanting someone like this.
Not just the physical part—the weight of his gaze, the way my body responded to him—but the way he made me feel seen.
And that scared me.