Page 5

That intensity in his gaze should scare me. I’m alone with a man a foot taller than me, more capable than me, and bigger than me in the woods. Every bit of logic and instinct should tell me to run back, but I don’t want to.

“Do you think you are scarier than a bear, Calder?”

His lips twitch when I say his name.

“No, Nora, but I’m scary enough and I have work to do,” he says.

His eyes flit to my foot when I step forward.

He doesn’t stop me, so I keep approaching until he catches my arm and pulls me slightly to the side.

It’s close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him, but not so close that I can actually feel him press against me.

A mess of rocks was waiting for me. I definitely would have twisted my ankle at best or fallen and – with my luck – hit my head at worse.

It doesn’t matter that I could have slipped because his slip proves more.

If he knows my name, it’s because he’s read my letters.

If I point it out immediately, he’ll run.

Just like a bear. Make too much noise and they disappear.

Be calm and mindful and there’s a chance you’ll see one.

Do or say the wrong thing and it’ll be the last thing you see.

“You don’t want to carry me again?” I ask, voice soft, just on the edge of teasing. “Is it because I’m older now? Heavier?”

Calder lets out a short snort.

“Twenty-four instead of eighteen?”

“You’re still small,” he says, eyes flicking over me.

I smile, slow and intentional. “Small enough to carry?”

His gaze holds mine a little too long, like he’s trying to read something I’m not saying outright. I clear my throat, breaking the moment before it settles too deep.

“Maybe the real issue is you’re too big.”

His eyes narrow just slightly, his voice low. “That’s not a complaint I usually hear.”

I lift a brow, lips curving. “Didn’t think it would be.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do I have something to prove?”

“You already proved you read my letters,” I comment.

He pauses and looks at me like I’m about to trap him. I giggle. “I never told you my name except in the letters.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, but there’s almost a smile on his lips. It’s a victory in my opinion. He shakes his head, not offering more, but I can’t resist teasing him a little more, getting more conversation out of him.

“You could have sent me pictures of the forest looking this beautiful. Flowering and green and bright even if you didn’t want to write to me.”

“Would it have helped with the nightmares?” He asks, something darker in his voice.

My brow furrows. I don’t think I wrote about nightmares to him. I had some, of course, but they faded fast. “My nightmares ended quickly, thanks to you. It’s hard to linger on the bad when there’s good to focus on.”

He arches an eyebrow and snorts. “Only you would see getting caught in a fire as something good.”

“Being saved by you and knowing that good people exist in this world is very good,” I counter. “It wasn’t all good. I know that. But the burns healed and it gave me a new perspective on life.”

I step carefully over a cluster of stones, making sure not to trip and give him another reason to save me. Then he speaks, his voice quiet but certain.

“Not all experiences are good ones.”

“Six years ago?” I glance over at him.

He shakes his head. “You weren’t a casualty. It’s not a bad memory.”

“Not bad isn’t quite the same as good,” I say with a soft laugh. “But I’ll take it.”

I nod toward the rest of the trail. “You really planning to clear all this on your own?”

“Eventually,” he says. His eyes are on me, like he’s waiting for me to move on, but there’s something else there too. Something I can’t quite pin down.

“I’d offer to help,” I say, glancing at the rocks, “but let’s be honest. You’d probably end up doing double the work trying to keep me from twisting an ankle.”

“It’s my job,” he answers, simple as ever. Maybe he’s run out of words, or maybe he’s keeping something in.

“You should go back to town,” he adds. “Weather might turn.”

I smile, looking over at him. “Ok, I stop slowing you down. You’ve got enough to do with all these rocks.”

He nods once, then turns his attention back to his task, clearly focused on the trail ahead.

“So, you’ll be alright here? Sure you don’t need company?” I ask, half-smiling as I back away.

A flicker passes across his face, a brief flash of something almost like amusement, before it’s gone, and he’s back to moving rocks as if nothing happened.

But I saw it.

Anyway, I don’t want to overwhelm him. I want this to be a good experience, not a ‘not bad one’ for him. I try to calm my excitement for meeting him and accept we’re done ... for now. “Ok ok, I’m leaving, you win.” I say with a teasing smile.

I can feel him watching me as I head down the trail.

It hums across my skin, a current that fades with each step I take.

Even though it buzzes through me like static, sharp and warm, part of me wants to turn around.

Find any excuse to stay. Ask him a question, tease out another look, just.. . be near him a little longer.

But I don’t.

Because if I want to see him again— really see him—I need to walk away now.

I didn’t come here just to chase a man, even one like Calder.

I have plans, things I promised myself I’d do.

And even though I already extended my Airbnb another week, I need more than a moment of heat and confusion to justify staying.

I need a sign that this pull between us is real. That he wants more, too.

Still, I can’t help crossing my fingers as I walk. Hoping this won’t be the last time we talk. Hoping the next time we meet—maybe right here on this same trail—it won’t feel like an accident.

It’ll feel like the start of something.

Unfortunately, in the hour it takes me to get tired, turn around, and return to the same spot, he’s gone. The trail has been cleared and there’s really no sign that there was ever a pile of rocks anywhere. Which means I return to my cabin and go through my routine alone, until I end up in bed.

I close my eyes and exhale slowly, letting my hand trail down my stomach. My skin is warm, sensitive, like it’s been waiting for this moment all day.

But it’s not just my hand I feel. It’s his.

Calder.

Rough fingers skim over my belly, patient and sure, as if he’s been touching me like this forever. As if he knows exactly how to get past every wall I’ve tried to keep up.

“I’ve got you, Nora,” he murmurs, low and steady. “I’m not letting go.”

My breath catches. I arch slightly, guiding his hand— my hand—lower, until my nightgown bunches at my hips.

The fabric slips against my thighs as my fingertips find the damp heat between them.

My panties are soaked, and the pressure of imagining his fingers there—his weight, his presence—makes everything sharper.

I stroke slowly, like he would. Not rushed, not teasing. Just steady and sure.

Heat curls through my core as I press into the touch, rocking my hips in quiet desperation. My free hand fists the sheets beside me. My body’s alive with tension, my thighs trembling as the pressure builds.

“Calder,” I whisper, mouth dry, heart racing.

I turn my head slightly, as if I can kiss the sharp edge of his jaw. I can almost hear his breath in my ear, feel the warmth of it against my skin.

“Just take it, Nora,” he says, voice thick and low. “Let yourself feel it. I’ll take care of you.”

I gasp softly as I slide two fingers beneath my panties, slick and needy. I imagine him there, kneeling between my thighs, lifting the hem of my nightgown, spreading me open with a look that says I’m his.

His mouth finds my breast, tongue circling my nipple before his lips close around it, sucking just enough to make my back arch. At the same time, his fingers— my fingers—slip inside me.

Deep. Curling.

I cry out, barely biting it back.

He strokes that sensitive spot again and again, and I meet each thrust with a roll of my hips, chasing the friction, the rhythm, the edge.

My legs tremble as heat builds at the base of my spine, spiraling tighter, hotter. My breath comes in fast, shallow bursts. The sheets twist beneath my fists. My toes curl.

“That's it,” I imagine him saying, his voice like gravel and smoke. “Just like that. Let go for me. Come for me.”

The orgasm hits hard—hot, shaking, unstoppable. My body bucks against my own hand, thighs squeezing tight as waves roll through me, pulling me under.

I breathe his name into the quiet.

Still trembling, I pull the sheets up over my chest and press my hand to my pounding heart.

It was my hand.

But it was his name.

And I’ve never wanted someone the way I want Calder.