Page 6 of Mountain Man Obsessed (Hard Timber Mountain Men #3)

JESSA

I woke to the peaceful silence that only exists in the mountains at dawn.

That thin, silvery quiet before birds remember to sing and the sun wakes up.

My cheek rested on Harlan’s chest, my fingers spread out over his heart like I’d anchored myself there sometime in the night.

His pulse thudded slow and steady under my palm.

His hand was an anchor at my hip, protective even in sleep.

For a minute, I watched him.

He looked younger like this. Less like granite, more like a real man.

The hard line between his brows had smoothed out overnight and he wasn’t scowling for a change.

In sleep, he wasn’t barking orders. He wasn’t The Warden .

He was just Harlan. Warm, solid, and mine, at least for the moment.

It was a wish I thought I’d wasted on a million shooting stars, but it drifted through my head anyway and I wasn’t ready to push it away quite yet.

Outside, the wind stirred, and the tent fabric rustled. Somewhere beyond the ridge, the sun breeched the edge of dawn. I breathed him in, all the smoke and pine and everything else that was unique to him and let the smallest smile tug at the edges of my mouth.

His chest rose under my cheek as he woke up.

The hand at my hip flexed once, then went still like he realized where it was and didn’t trust himself to move.

I tilted my head to look up at him. His eyes opened, dark and groggy, finding me like he wasn’t surprised at all.

Like maybe he’d been waking up to me in his head for a long time.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

“Morning,” he said, his voice rough enough to sand wood.

We stared at each other like idiots. I didn’t know what I expected… maybe confetti and fireworks…but the thing that landed instead was better. The peace between us was quiet and real. He dragged his thumb over my hip, the way a man might do when he’s decided a woman belongs to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded. There was nowhere else I’d rather be. “I’m good.”

The line between his brows started to form again. “How about your leg?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Bruised my ego more than anything else.”

“The hatchet was a bad idea.”

“You loved bandaging me up,” I said, and the heat in his eyes told me I wasn’t wrong.

Silence descended again, but it wasn’t heavy. At least not yet. I wanted to keep it that way, to pretend the world wouldn’t push through the tent flap and climb in with us, but life in Hard Timber had never bowed to my wishes.

He cleared his throat and looked past me, at the seam where the tent door met the floor. The hand at my hip slid away. There it was… the first sign of retreat.

I forced lightness into my voice. “So. Coffee?”

He blinked like I’d offered him a life preserver. “I’ll show you how to make it. We can filter water from the creek.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it, and I’ll watch?”

His eyes met mine, and for a flash I saw all the things he wasn’t saying, like I don’t want to watch you get hurt. I don’t know how to not take over. I don’t know how to want you and also do the right thing.

“Teach me,” I whispered. “Don’t just…take over. Really show me how to do it.”

He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

We got dressed, moving around each other awkwardly in the small space.

Outside, the cool morning breeze nipped at my cheeks.

Harlan moved around the fire pit with that efficient competence that used to make me roll my eyes.

Now it felt intimate and romantic. He was in his element, and I felt like I was getting a rare insider’s glimpse at the real him.

He twined his fingers with mine on the short walk down to the creek.

The icy water rushed over my hand as I dipped the bottle in to fill it up.

Harlan showed me how to seat the filter and made me do it again until I didn’t cross-thread the cap.

Back at the campsite, he watched me grind coffee with a hand-crank mill and even kept his hands behind his back while I lit the stove.

I fumbled once with the igniter, and he didn’t try to take over.

When the coffee was finally ready, he held out a mug, and our fingers brushed.

Heat fired between us all over again. Our eyes snagged, and we both looked away at the same time and laughed.

It had been years since I’d heard his laugh, and I wanted to catch the sound in a jar so I could hold onto it forever.

We ate oatmeal that tasted like damp cardboard and pretended it was gourmet.

He cleaned and re-wrapped my shin, his hands gentle, while he muttered about using a proper swing and stance next time.

I took mental notes I might actually use someday.

It would have been a perfect day if we could have ignored the tension mounting between us as the hours passed.

He was the one to bring it up.

“Your brothers are gonna kill me if they find out.” It came out flat and emotionless, like he’d been mulling it over for hours.

I didn’t pretend I didn’t know what he meant. “Then maybe don’t tell them we were practicing fire building.”

He cut me a look. “Jessa.”

“I won’t be your dirty, little secret, Harlan.” I tried to keep the shakiness out of my voice. “And I’m not a kid. If they have a problem with who I’m kissing, or who I’m sleeping with, that’s their problem, not yours to solve.”

He braced his hand on a tree like he needed something to hold him up. “It’s not only their problem. It’s my problem too. Your brothers are,”—he blew out a long breath—“they’re my family.”

“What does that make me?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. His head snapped up. The look on his face made me want to take them back. He stepped closer, his hands flexing like he wanted to grab me but didn’t trust himself. “I don’t know how to do this without breaking something.”

“Maybe the thing that needs breaking is the stupid rule you made for yourself a long time ago. The one that says you’ll never let yourself want something you might lose.”

He went still, every muscle in his body frozen in place.

I pushed while I still had the courage. “You keep saying I’m off-limits because you don’t want to piss off my brothers. To me, it sounds like you’re choosing them. Like we’re not worth the risk.”

The breeze shifted. Somewhere, a jay scolded the whole forest. Harlan looked at me a long time, a mixture of want and regret in his eyes, and I finally saw it.

.. his fault line. He didn’t want control, he was scared.

He’d been carrying his fear around with him for so long that it looked like a backbone, not a crack that could undo him.

“I don’t want to lose them,” he said, the truth landing heavy between us. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

My throat went tight. I couldn’t pinpoint the moment I’d shifted from enjoying watching Harlan squirm to wanting to be his forever.

Somewhere between trading jabs and stealing kisses, the game had changed.

I wasn’t just baiting Harlan anymore, I was falling for him, and I didn’t want a way back out.

“Then stop acting like you don’t get a say. This isn’t about my brothers, Harlan. It’s about you and me.”

He dragged a hand over his beard. “That’s the problem. You’ll survive this. I’m the one who won’t.”

His response should have made me furious.

It did, a little. But mostly I felt something else…

a fierce, stubborn tenderness. Because underneath his gruffness, I could hear the fear.

And maybe that was what scared me most… that I was already in too deep, already falling for a man who didn’t know how to fall back.

If he couldn’t believe in us yet, then I would. I’d funnel all of my energy into saving Big Package Outfitters and showing him we could build a future worth fighting for.

“Okay,” I said, softer than I felt. “Let’s stop worrying about things we can’t control and start talking about what we’re going to build.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Adventure Weekend.” The words came out steadier than my heart felt.

“I’ve been sketching out a plan. Friday night we’ll have a bonfire and gear demos.

Saturday we’ll have guided hikes, and a scavenger hunt through town with check-ins at the cafe, The Woodshed, and the store.

During the afternoon we’ll host clinics for knot-tying, building a campfire, and fireside cooking.

On Sunday I’m planning on kayaking and fishing at the creek. ”

He blinked, clearly thrown by the shift in conversation, but I forged ahead. If he needed time to figure us out, fine. But I could damn well make sure his store didn’t collapse in the meantime.

“I’ll need two volunteers per station, a way to print out the liability waivers, and a marketing push that doesn’t look like those sun-bleached posters in your window.”

His lips twitched. “We’re back to insulting my posters?”

“If the boot fits.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “I’m serious. This isn’t about keeping Big Package alive. It’s about reminding Hard Timber what it is, and what you mean to this town. I want to do this. With you.”

He was quiet a long moment. “You already created waivers?”

“Yeah.” I gave him a soft smile. “I need to run them by Rowan down at town hall, but they’re almost ready. And mock-ups for the flyers. And a pitch for sponsors.”

“Of course you did.”

“Of course I did,” I echoed, and for a second, we were back on solid ground.

We broke camp in the kind of dance that happens when two people decide, without saying it out loud, that they’re going to try. He even let me coil the tent lines even though I messed up the first one and had to re-do it.

When we were finally ready to hike out, I tried to grab the heavier pack, but he shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Fine,” I warned, “but if I start singing all the way down, that’s on you.”

He smirked and handed me the lighter one without saying another word.

On the trail, he pointed out faint switchbacks I never would’ve noticed and the kind of weather-change signs only a local paying attention would see. I told him which local businesses I thought would jump to sponsor a scavenger hunt and who I thought we could count on to pitch in and volunteer.

We traded expertise like trail mix and stole little touches where we could, like his hand on my back when the path narrowed, my fingers sliding into his at a clear overlook, and a quick kiss that tasted like coffee and maybe a little bit of I want this .

By the time we reached where we’d parked, the sun had peaked and was on its way down the mountains on the other side of the valley.

He leaned his forearms on the cab door of his truck and looked at me like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

I tried to look like it didn’t make my knees weak.

“I’ll drive behind you into town,” he said. “Make sure you get back.”

“I’m not going to veer off a cliff between here and Main Street.”

“Humor me.”

I wanted to say no on principle. I wanted to say yes because I liked the way it felt to have him worrying about me.

“Fine,” I said, and opened the driver’s door.

He closed it again with a palm. “Jessa.”

I looked up. The guarded look was back, softer at the edges but still there. He needed me to meet him where he was. I could do that. But I wasn’t going to carry him the whole way.

“I’m not sorry,” he finally said. “About last night.”

The tightness in my chest eased. “Neither am I.”

He shook his head, jaw flexing. “I need time to figure out how to do this without blowing everything up.”

The words hurt, but they weren’t new. He’d been saying versions of the same thing since the second I walked back into his life.

I could have argued with him or even begged. Badgered him about it until he broke or pushed me away for good. But if Harlan Flint wanted to dig his heels in, I wasn’t going to waste energy slamming against the wall he’d built.

Fine. If I couldn’t move him, I’d move something else.

I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t sixteen anymore, waiting for someone to decide my future. If he couldn’t believe in us yet, then I’d prove there was something worth believing in anyway.

I pulled a folded sheet from my pack and tucked it into the front pocket of his flannel. “That’s the draft schedule for the weekend. Look it over. I’ll be at the store tomorrow to talk logistics.”

He caught my wrist, his thumb skimming the inside like he couldn’t help himself. “You’re something else, Firecracker.”

For the first time, the nickname didn’t make me mad. “I think you like that about me.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “I do.”

On the drive down, he kept his truck in my rearview like he’d promised. At the turn into town, he flicked his headlights once. I didn’t need a translation.

I parked outside my dad’s place and watched his taillights disappear toward Main. My body ached in a very specific, satisfied way. My heart ached too, but not with the same fear that had been wedged under my ribs since I came home. This ache felt like something I could build around.

I dug my notebook from my bag and added a few more items to my to-do list… practical, concrete things I could control.

Because I couldn’t control Harlan’s fear. I couldn’t control what people around town might say about him. But I could control this: my work, my choices, my voice.

Tomorrow, I’d walk into Big Package with a plan big enough to scare him and save him. I’d look Harlan Flint in the eye and remind him I wasn’t a girl he had to protect himself from.

Time… he’d asked for it. Fine. I could give that to him. At least for a little while.