Page 4 of Keep Me, Knox (The Mountain Code #5)

Sage

I should be writing down bear observations.

That's what I should be doing.

Instead, I'm curled up on a couch that smells like cedar and coal smoke, sipping the best coffee I've had in weeks, stealing glances at the man across the room who looks like he could forge steel with one hand and break hearts with the other.

Knox is all rough edges and quiet confidence. Like he doesn't need to speak unless he has something important to say. And even then, he doesn't care if anyone listens. But I’m listening.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

Why did he feed me lunch and let me curl up on his couch? Why hasn’t he asked me to leave yet? What would he do if I hurled myself on top of his body…?

I pull my legs down and sit upright, trying to remind myself that I'm not here to flirt with hot mountain men—I'm here to track a bear. A very large bear who is currently lounging in a hammock like she's at a spa.

I grab my notebook and rise. "I should check on Rosie again. Get a few more notes while I can.”

Knox stands too. "I'll come with you."

I try to ignore the double entendre. The last thing I need to think about is coming with him. Together. As one.

Fuck. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I need to get out of this cabin.

Outside, I take a deep breath, calming my racing pulse. The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting everything in warm amber light. The air smells like pine needles and the remnants of forge smoke, rich and earthy.

Rosie hasn't moved much. She's still draped across the sagging hammock like it was built just for her. One cub is halfway up a tree, the other is trying to crawl into an old metal washtub Knox left flipped over beside the shed.

"She's relaxed," I murmur, jotting notes. "Which is good. Means she feels safe."

"She should. I haven't bothered her."

"No," I say, glancing at him. "But most people would've called wildlife control by now."

He shrugs. "That wouldn’t be very neighborly."

I look back down at my page, but I can feel him watching me. It's not invasive. It's... thoughtful.

"You get a lot of bears out here?" I ask.

"Used to. Not as many the last few years. Rosie's been the most consistent. Likes to show up uninvited, raid my blackberries, and nap wherever she damn well pleases."

I laugh softly, then catch him smiling. Just for a second.

"She really uses that hammock often?" I ask.

"Every time it's warm enough. Think she likes the sway." He scratches his jaw. "I've caught her out here at dawn more than once. Just swinging."

"That's kind of adorable."

"She's not so adorable when she manages to break into my bear-proofed trashcans."

We stand there a while, watching the cubs chase each other around the tree trunks. I can hear their claws scrabbling against the bark, their tiny grunts as they tumble. Rosie lifts her head once, then lowers it again with a sigh.

Knox and I are silent as we watch the bears. But it’s a comfortable silence. He’s so different from most of the men I’ve known. Content to just be.

I write a few more notes, pretending I'm not keenly aware of how close he's standing or how much I suddenly want to lean into him.

I've never had a thing for flannel-wearing, hammer-swinging loners. But then again, I've never met one like him .

And that's what worries me.

Because the mountain isn't just quiet. It's dangerous . Not in the way most people think, because of wild animals and poisonous plants and steep cliffs.

For me, it’s dangerous because it makes you forget the outside world exists.

Makes you want to stay.

And that’s just a recipe for heartbreak. Especially since Knox hasn’t been anything more than friendly . He’s probably only tolerating me the way he tolerates Rosie.

To him, we’re just here. So, he’s allowing it.

But if he’d allow me to stay forever, I just might…