Page 16 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

The engine roars to life beneath us, and I feel Skye jump slightly. When I back out of the parking space and ease onto the street, her fingers dig into my sides, her body rigid behind me.

I take it slow through town, giving her time to adjust to the sensation. As we hit the edge of Flounder Ridge and the road begins to climb, I feel her gradually relax, her grip becoming less desperate, though still firm.

At the first stop sign, I reach back and squeeze her thigh reassuringly. "You doing okay?"

"I think so," she calls over the idling engine. "It's... intense."

"In a good way?"

She pauses, then laughs. "Ask me again when we get there in one piece."

The road winds higher into the mountains, the smell of pine permeating the air. I navigate the curves with practiced ease, leaning into them, feeling Skye mirror my movements behind me. Her body presses closer to my back, and I'm grateful for the rush of wind that cools my suddenly warm skin.

The scenery opens up around us—sweeping vistas of mountain ranges stretching into the distance, forests of pine and aspen covering the slopes.

I wish I could see Skye's face, watch her take it all in.

But I can feel her reaction in the way her grip occasionally tightens when we round a bend and a new view appears.

Twenty minutes in, she's loosened up enough to shift her position slightly, her thighs still pressed against the outside of mine, her chest against my back. The intimacy of it hits me—her trust, her warmth, the way we move together on the bike like we've been riding together for years.

We pass a small herd of elk grazing in a meadow, and I feel Skye tap my shoulder. I slow down, pulling to the side of the road so she can get a better look.

"They're beautiful," she says, her voice full of wonder.

"They come down from the higher elevations this time of year," I tell her. "Sometimes they walk right through town."

She watches them for a moment longer, then squeezes my waist. "Ready when you are."

The waterfall is tucked away down a narrow dirt road that most tourists miss.

I navigate the bike carefully over the uneven ground, feeling Skye hold tighter as we bounce along.

Finally, the trees open up to reveal a small clearing beside a crystal-clear pool fed by a waterfall cascading down from about thirty feet above.

I cut the engine, and the sudden silence is filled with the sound of rushing water. Skye climbs off first, removing her helmet, her face flushed with excitement.

"Griff, this is... wow," she breathes, taking in the scene. "It's like something from a postcard."

I watch her as she walks toward the water, sunlight filtering through the trees. Her hair's messy from the helmet, and she runs her fingers through it absently.

"I can see why you come here," she says, turning back to me. "It's stunning."

I shrug, trying to act casual as I grab the backpack. "Not many people know about it. Locals mostly."

Her eyes widen when I pull out the blanket and spread it on a flat rock near the water. "You really did pack a picnic."

"Told you I would," I say, unpacking sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of fresh strawberries, some chips, two beers. "Nothing fancy, but?—"

"It's perfect," she interrupts, settling onto the blanket.

We eat as the waterfall provides a constant backdrop of gentle noise. The beer is cold, the sandwiches simple but good—roast beef with horseradish that Buck prepared for us without asking questions, though his knowing smile said plenty.

"So," I say eventually, "what was your life like? Before you ended up stranded in Flounder Ridge?"

She takes a sip of beer, considering. "Busy. Structured. I worked long hours at the publishing house, trying to climb the ladder. Lived with Daniel in this high-rise apartment that never really felt like home." She pauses. "I thought I was working toward something, you know?"

The sadness in her voice twists something in my chest. "And now?"

"Now I don't know," she admits. "Part of me feels like I should be panicking—no job, no permanent place to live, no plan. But honestly?" She looks up at me, her eyes clear. "I feel more alive in this past week than I have in years."

I hold her gaze, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me. "Sometimes the best things in life come from the unexpected detours."

She smiles. "I'm starting to think you're right."

I’m surprised we’re the only people here today. It’s never really crowded but there’s usually at least a few people around. I guess it is a Monday, though…

The sun is high overhead and I’m feeling hot. I stand, stretching my back. "Want to cool off?" I nod toward the pool beneath the waterfall.

Her eyebrows lift. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"Me neither. Don't need 'em," I say, pulling my t-shirt over my head. Her eyes find me, lingering on my chest. "Boxers work just fine."

I kick off my boots, then unbuckle my jeans, watching her face. She's trying not to stare, but not doing a very good job. I step out of my jeans, standing in just my black boxers.

"Coming?" I ask, then walk to the edge of the pool and dive in.

The water is bracingly cold, a shock to the system that feels amazing after sitting in the sun. I surface, pushing wet hair from my face. I see Skye standing at the edge, hesitating.

"Too cold?" I call to her.

She shakes her head, then pulls her shirt off in one fluid motion. She's wearing a simple black bra, nothing fancy, but my heart thuds at the sight of her bare skin.

She shimmies out of her jeans, revealing matching black underwear, then stands there for a moment.

"Stop staring," she says, but she's smiling.

"Can't help it," I admit. "You're gorgeous, Skye."

She blushes, then jumps in, gasping when she surfaces. "Holy shit, that's cold!"

I laugh, swimming toward her. "You get used to it."

"Liar," she says, teeth chattering slightly.

I reach for her, pulling her closer, our legs brushing beneath the water. "Body heat helps," I murmur.

Her arms wrap around my neck, our bodies aligning. The cold recedes, replaced by a different kind of awareness.

"Better?" I ask, my voice rough.

She nods, her eyes on my mouth. "Much."

I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. She doesn't. Instead, she closes the distance, her lips meeting mine.

The kiss deepens, her body pressing against mine in the water. Her hands tangle in my wet hair, and I grip her waist, pulling her even closer. We fit together perfectly, like we've known each for years instead of days.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Water droplets cling to her eyelashes, and I brush them away gently with my thumb.

"Still cold?" I ask.

She laughs, the sound echoing off the rock walls around us. "Not anymore."

Her laugh hits me right in the center of my chest, and I know I'm falling for her—this woman who walked into my bar with her broken car and broken heart, who's going to leave as soon as both are fixed.

And I'll let her go when the time comes, because that's what she needs.

But for now, in this hidden place with the water swirling around us, I'll take whatever she's willing to give.