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Elias

The moment I heard her making enough noise to attract every predator within a five-mile radius, I knew I should have just turned around and walked away.

Hell, I’d spent the last few years of my life avoiding exactly this kind of complication. Trying to heal. I shook that thought away, concentrating on the here and now.

She wasn’t my problem. Tourists got lost on Lone Mountain every day. One had just never gotten lost in my part of the woods before. I’d had years of perfect isolation and now this woman was about to destroy it all.

I’d watched her before approaching, trying to determine if she actually needed help or was just another city girl having a meltdown. The panic in her voice as she talked to herself, the way she clutched that can when she’d heard me—yeah, she needed help. Whether I wanted to give it or not.

I’d heard about the retreat. Been warned by a few of the locals during my last supply run into town. Between the lodge being renovated and some dating app going viral, Lone Mountain had become a booming tourist trap.

While the town might have liked the influx of people, I didn’t. And neither did most of my neighbors—if we could even call ourselves that. We didn’t live within shouting distance and certainly never visited each other for sweet tea and gossip.

Most of the men on the mountain were here for the same reason I was—running from something. Peace and quiet was just a bonus.

Both of which had just been destroyed.

By a woman who had no business being on my mountain. She had no sense of self-preservation, no skills, and she’d almost maced herself with sunscreen. But the second I saw her—mud-streaked, wide-eyed, mouth moving faster than her feet could keep up—I knew she didn’t belong here.

Same as I knew I was screwed.

Because curves like that didn’t belong on my mountain.

Neither did legs that went on for miles, or a mouth that ran smart even when she was scared shitless.

She looked like a woman built for brunch dates and book clubs, not bear country.

The kind who probably cried during commercials and made you hold her purse while she tried on shoes.

The kind I had no business wanting.

But I did want her. Had wanted her from the second I saw her.

When she’d called my ass gorgeous and turned red as a tomato, my body had hardened instantly wanting to discover if she’d blush like that everywhere when I touched her.

It was response I hadn’t had in years, maybe ever.

My relationships were straight forward. Casual hook-ups to satisfy an itch. An itch I hadn’t scratched lately.

I motioned for her to take off her pack and went to the kitchen. My cabin was small but met my needs. I grabbed a large glass and filled it with water from the fridge. I walked over to her and handed her the glass. “Drink this. You’re almost dehydrated.”

For once she didn’t argue, just took the glass and downed half with one long gulp.

“Easy. There’s no rush.” She drank it like it was the best thing she’d ever had. And maybe it was. There was nothing like water from a mountain spring. “You hungry?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just wondering how many stupid decisions I’m dealing with tonight.”

“Wow, you are a delight.” She stood there, sipping the rest of the water. “Are you always this charming or just with lost women who almost blind themselves with bear spray?”

“That wasn’t bear spray. It’s sunscreen.”

“What? I would have just moisturized the bear.”

“More like pissed him off.” I stood there watching her, realizing I could do it the rest of the night.

“Thank you.” She handed me back the empty glass and rubbed her hands down her hips and over the top of her thighs. Naturally, my gaze followed the same path. And I realized there was an entire list of things I’d like to do the rest of the night.

“My name is Brittany by the way. And thank you very much for rescuing me. Even if that’s not you’re thing.”

“It was.” That came out before I could stop myself.

“Really?” She smiled up at me like I’d turned into some damn hero. Which was exactly the opposite of what I was now. I knew she expected more of my story, and for once I wasn’t as reluctant to share.

“I worked search and rescue for a while. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m going to recommend the retreat owners put you on retainer for their next adventure. Maybe patrol the mountain for people like me.”

I didn’t say anything, fighting off memories I didn’t want to remember.

She pulled at her shirt. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but do you have a bathroom. Maybe a shower? I’m wet.”

My body tensed as heat flared on her face once again. “I mean, my clothes are wet.”

I didn’t dare unfold my arms, knowing I’d reach for her. Instead, I nodded my head to the hallway by the fireplace. “The bathroom’s through there. You’ve got about ten minutes of hot water.”

She grabbed her pack and headed into the bathroom.

How the hell was I supposed to concentrate now. With a hard-on and the image of her in my bathroom, standing under the hot spray.

I started pulling things from the fridge to make her a sandwich.

Turkey on wheat. The lettuce and tomatoes were from my garden just a little way from the cabin.

In almost all ways, I was self-sufficient here.

The only creature comfort I allowed myself was my daily hit of caffeine from very expensive coffee beans.

I sat her sandwich and another glass of water on the coffee table and waited. I tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time in years I’d had a woman in my space. The first time I’d wanted one here.

I’d exiled myself on Lone Mountain for a reason. I’d made a fatal decision that had almost cost my partner his life. I’d left my post with search and rescue in Middleton, Colorado, behind after that. Left everything behind. Everyone behind.

I’d become the guy who lived past the creek, alone in the woods, with too many scars and no appetite for small talk. The guy who’d rather split wood than deal with people. The guy who’d convinced himself he preferred it that way.

And now she was here.

Disrupting my routine. Filling my space with noise and warmth and the kind of energy that made a man remember what he’d been missing.

I heard the bathroom door open behind me. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t need to.

I could feel her.

The heat of her skin from the hot water. The nervousness in her steps. The awareness that just kept building between us.

“You weren’t kidding about the hot water.” She padded closer.

I kept my eyes adverted. It was either that or turn around and do something we’d both regret. Or maybe something only I’d regret.

She moved closer, and I caught the scent of my soap on her skin. The possessive satisfaction that hit me was dangerous. She smelled like mine now. Like she belonged in my space, in my bed, in my life.

The thought should have made me take her back down the mountain despite the darkness. Instead, it made me hard.

“What’s your name?” she asked. When I didn’t answer immediately, she tried again. “Or should I just keep calling you Smoky the Grump?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Just a glance.

Big mistake.

She stood behind my couch in an oversized sleep shirt—on the front was some faded cartoon character I couldn’t make out.

The fabric was so thin I could see the outline of her body underneath, could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her nipples were visible through the cotton, peaked from the cool air or maybe from the way I was looking at her. Or maybe wanting to be touched.

My cock twitched, and I forced my gaze away before I did something stupid.

“Elias.” I cleared my throat. “My name is Elias.”

“Elias.” She repeated my name like she was testing how it felt on her tongue. I wanted to hear her say it as she came around my cock. Scream it. “That suits you. Very mountain-man-ish. Do you practice the brooding in the mirror, or does it come naturally?”

Despite everything—the unwanted attraction, the disruption to my peace, the way she was making me feel things I’d sworn off—I almost smiled.

“It’s a gift,” I said.

She laughed, and the sound hit me square in the chest. Light and genuine and completely at odds with the fear she’d shown earlier. I wanted to hear it again. Wanted to be the reason for it.

I was beginning to venture into dangerous territory.

“Sit down and eat.”

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “You made that for me?” She said it like no one had ever simply offered her comfort before.

“Yeah. It’s not much, but it will fill up the empty spots.”

She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs beneath her. I was disappointed that she was wearing a pair of knit shorts beneath her shirt. The thought of her sitting there, her pretty pink pussy playing hide and seek with me…

“What made you sign up for the retreat?” I asked, needing to redirect this conversation before I did something we’d both regret.

“Technically, my best friend signed me up. After my, um, breakup.” Her fingers twisted in the hem of the shirt. “She said I needed to reconnect with my wild side. Whatever that means. I’m hoping getting lost in the woods wasn’t what she had in mind. Because it sucks.”

The mention of an ex made something dark and possessive rise in my chest. Some bastard had hurt her, made her doubt herself enough that she’d ended up here, in my woods, looking for something she thought she’d lost.

“Tell me about him.” The words came out harder than I’d intended.

She looked up, startled by the edge in my voice.

“My ex?” When I nodded, she shrugged, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. “Typical story. Three years together, I thought we were building something but turns out he was building something with someone else too. His secretary, because apparently, he wanted to be a walking cliché.”

Rage burned through me, hot and immediate. The kind of protective fury I hadn’t felt in years. “He’s an idiot.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not enough.” Her voice was quiet, almost small, and it made me want to punch something—like her asshole ex.

“That’s bullshit.” The words exploded out of me, sharp enough to make her eyes widen. “Any man who’d cheat on you is too fucking stupid to deserve you in the first place.”

The beautiful color flooded her cheeks again, and I realized I’d revealed more than I’d intended. Shown her exactly how much the thought of someone hurting her affected me.

She didn’t respond immediately, just looked at me with those dark eyes like she was trying to figure me out. Finally, she smiled—soft and a little shy.

“Thank you.” Her voice was back to the sassy tone.

I nodded once, not trusting myself to say more. Because what I wanted to do was drag her into my arms. I wanted to push my fingers into that wild hair, tilt her head, kiss her until she forgot she’d been lost in the woods. Forget about the retreat. And forget the name of her damn ex.

Instead, I stood up, needing distance before I did something irreversible. I picked up her empty plate and glass. I couldn’t look at her directly, afraid of what she’d see in my eyes. “The bedroom’s through there. You should get some sleep. You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have warned her off. “Okay. Thank you. For everything.”

I watched her disappear down the hallway, hips swaying in a way that made my hands itch to touch. When I heard the door close, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

This was a mistake. She was a mistake. But as I settled onto the couch with a blanket that smelled like her now, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

For the first time in a very long time, I wasn’t alone.

And for the first time since I’d almost lost my partner, I wanted someone to stay.