Page 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

SIERRA

It feels like I’ve been talking to Everest for hours at this point…

and like I could talk to him for hours more.

And somehow, these pancakes still taste delicious, no matter how slowly I eat them.

I drag the side of my fork through a puddle of syrup and take another bite, savoring the comfort wrapped up in the flavors.

It tastes like childhood. Like safety. Like something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Everest sits across from me, quiet now. We’ve talked a lot already—and it’s shocking how much I can have in common with this reclusive man. And now there’s just this comfortable stillness between us. The kind of quiet that doesn’t feel awkward. It feels… easy. Intimate almost.

And maybe that’s what makes the guilt start to gnaw at the edges of my mind.

Because I know I should tell him. I should just say it—that I’m here on behalf of someone else. That I’m not some lost wanderer who stumbled into his life completely by accident. I mean, I am lost… but not exactly in the way he thinks.

I lower my fork and glance at him. He’s sipping his coffee, the morning light making his scruff look a shade lighter, his blue eyes brighter.

God, he’s beautiful. Rugged, real. Honest in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been with anyone.

He doesn’t wear masks, doesn’t say things to impress.

And I—I’m sitting here pretending I’m someone I’m not.

I open my mouth. Ready to say it.

But something inside me stops.

Because if I tell him now, this moment shatters. The warmth in his eyes cools. The way he looks at me—like I’m something rare and worth keeping—fades. And I can’t handle that. Not yet.

Not when I’m starting to fall for him.

So I stay quiet. I take another bite. Swallow the truth.

He breaks the silence with a small smirk, nudging his mug aside. “I gotta admit,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “I’m surprised you even thought someone would be living up here.”

I look up, startled. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “You’re not exactly on the beaten path, Sierra. I mean, sure, the Pines draw a few folks every season—hikers, hunters, the occasional lost tourist. But people don’t just knock on my door. Not unless they’re selling something or desperate.”

I nod slowly, heart racing. “Have… have there been others?”

He laughs, and it’s a rich, easy sound. “Once. Some slick city guy showed up a few years back. Told me he had this amazing offer for my land. Said I could sell the cabin and ‘start fresh’ somewhere nicer. Somewhere ‘less isolated.’” He raises a brow.

“I guess he didn’t like it when I introduced him to my shotgun. ”

My eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. He saw the barrel and made a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of a grown man. Ran for the valley like the bears were after him. But I’m not some maniac… this was after I refused several times and he wouldn’t leave after hours.”

I burst out laughing, too loud, too fast—but it’s from relief as much as amusement. My laugh comes out a little shaky, and I try to hide it with my coffee.

Everest just grins, proud. “Nobody comes up here to push me around. Not anymore.”

I nod, still smiling, but there’s a chill under my skin now.

I’m trying to hide my guilt. My shame. This man has cared for me, cooked for me, hell—he saved me.

And all I’ve ever done is lie to him. If he knew the truth, he would kick me out…

or worse. And it’s a problem because if I know one thing for sure, the truth will always find a way of coming out.

I’m not sure whether or not I’ve revealed myself with my foolish laugh—and I can feel Everest watching me, curious. Suspicious, maybe. I need to redirect. Fast.

“Speaking of bears,” I blurt, grasping for the nearest thread. “I saw one on my way up here, actually.”

His brows lift, and the tension in the room softens. “No kidding?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a more natural tone. “Massive. Just off the trail near where I left my car. I got a picture. Do you want to see it?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a small grin. “You didn’t run, did you?”

“Nope. I stayed calm. Took a picture from the safety of the car,” I say, half-laughing as I get up from the table. “Just like a true National Geographic photographer.”

I cross to my purse, sitting innocently near the front door where I must have dropped when I fainted. As I bend down to grab it, I accidentally knock it over.

And that’s when everything unravels.

Business cards spill out—dozens of them—like they’ve been waiting for their moment. Little white rectangles, crisp and professional, fanning across the wood floor with damning clarity.

Sierra Mitchell

Senior Real Estate Assistant

ClearRock Development Group

My breath catches as I try to hide what feels like hundreds of photographs of my face on the most damning pieces of evidence he could ever hold against me.

The color drains from my face. For a split second, I’m frozen, heart thundering in my chest like it wants to rip through my ribcage.

I might have been caught. Then instinct kicks in and I drop to my knees, frantically shoving the cards back into my bag.

Too late.

Everest stands slowly behind me. I can feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my back.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice low, not yet angry but not light either. “You okay?”

“Yeah—yes,” I say quickly, too quickly. I zip up my purse like sealing a vault and stand up, trying to keep my face neutral. “I think I forgot my wallet. I just—uh—I should go check outside, see if maybe it fell when I first got here.”

His eyes narrow, and I can see something mischievous in his face. God I hope he believes me. I think I scooped all of the little cards that could betray me back into my purse before he saw anything, but I’m not sure. I need a minute to myself to regroup just in case.

My hand’s on the doorknob. I can feel the heat of Everest’s eyes on my back, the tension in the room behind me thick like a storm about to break.

I try to remember how to breathe, but everything inside me is tangled.

I’m two seconds away from walking out onto that porch and pretending to look for a wallet that’s definitely still in my purse—anything to avoid the questions I can see building in his eyes.

But before I can twist the knob, I hear his voice behind me—firm and low.

“You can’t leave.”

I freeze.

The words hit me square in the spine. My fingers tighten around the handle, but I don’t move. I can’t. My heart leaps into my throat, caught between fear and something else—something hot and dizzying that I can’t quite name.

Slowly, I turn toward him.

He’s standing in the center of the room, one hand still resting on the back of the chair he pushed away when he stood. His eyes are steady, piercing. But there’s no anger in them. No suspicion. Just… emotion. Raw, honest, and pouring out of him in quiet waves.

“I mean it,” he says, taking a step closer. “Don’t go.”

I swallow hard. “Why?”

He hesitates, then exhales, as if he’s finally decided to let go of something he’s been holding inside.

“Because it’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt this way about someone,” he says. “And I’d be a fool to let you walk out that door. You came into my life like lightning, Sierra. Out of nowhere. And I don’t want to go back to the silence I had before you.”

My heart stutters.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he continues, voice quieter now, “but I know it’s real. I know I don’t want it to end. You’re staying.”

The air between us shifts. The fear gripping my chest loosens.

My posture softens before I even realize it—I don’t have to fake anything.

He doesn’t know about the business cards, doesn’t suspect a thing.

Right now, he just wants me . Not for what I can give him or take from him—but because something in both of us has started to bloom, and he wants to see where it goes.

Relief crashes over me like a wave. Warm and dizzying and dangerously sweet.

I take a step closer. Then another. Until I’m right in front of him, and his hands are hovering just inches from my waist like he’s afraid he might scare me off if he touches me too soon.

“I wasn’t really planning to leave,” I whisper.

He lets out a breath, and his hands find my hips. Steady. Gentle. “Good.”

I lean in, resting my forehead against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding me.

The weight of his hands on my hips makes my breath catch. It’s not aggressive. It’s not rushed. It’s steady and sure—like he’s anchoring me there. Like he wants to make sure I don’t float away.

I don’t want to float away. I want to stay right here.

My heart pounds so loudly I swear he must hear it.

The space between our faces shrinks, the air around us thickening with something unspoken but undeniable.

My lips part slightly, and I see it—that flicker in his eyes.

Like he’s asking for permission, even now, even with the world slowing around us and gravity pulling us into each other like magnets too long kept apart.

And I give it. I lean in, just barely. That’s all it takes. His lips meet mine, and the second they do, everything stops.

His mouth is warm and soft, but there’s fire there, too—controlled, restrained, but desperate to be released.

I feel it in the way his grip tightens at my waist, pulling me closer.

I rise up on my toes to meet him, my hands sliding to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He’s solid underneath. Warm. Real. And mine —at least in this moment.

The kiss deepens—slow and reverent, like he’s trying to memorize me.

And I’m doing the same.

There’s something so tender in it, wrapped up in the heat. It’s not just want. It’s more. It’s like he’s been waiting for this—for me —and now that he has me, he’s never letting go.