I wrap a bandana around my thumb, tying it off with my teeth. The carving is nearly finished anyway, just needs sanding and a coat of sealant. I set it on the workbench, starting to clean up as the afternoon light fades.
A small wooden box catches my eye, a project I started months ago and never finished. It's beautifully grained cherry wood, meant to be a jewelry box. I'd planned to sell it at the summer craft fair, but now...
Now I find myself picking it up, running my fingers over the smooth surface, thinking of Riley. Of the necklace she always wears, a simple gold chain with her mother's wedding ring. The only thing she has left of a woman she barely got to know.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I tuck the box into my pocket. I'll finish it tonight, after she's gone to bed. Give it to her before she leaves, whenever that is. A parting gift, nothing more.
The lie doesn't even convince me.
The scent of cooking greets me as I approach the cabin, something spicy and rich that makes my stomach growl.
Riley is in the kitchen when I enter, slicing peppers with practiced ease.
She hasn't noticed me yet, and I take a moment to watch her, the graceful movements of her hands, the slight furrow of concentration between her brows.
She moves like her father. Bill had the same efficient precision, whether he was field-dressing a deer or cooking dinner. The same focus, the same quiet competence.
But everything else about her is pure Riley. The slight sway of her hips as she works. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear. The curve of her smile when something pleases her.
I must make some sound, because she looks up, catching me watching her. I quickly tuck the wooden box deeper into my pocket, embarrassed to be caught with it.
"You're cooking," I say, stating the obvious.
"Seemed like the least I could do." She keeps slicing, not looking up. "Hope fajitas are okay."
I grunt in acknowledgment, moving to wash my hands at the sink. She's right beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her body. Smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo mixed with the spices from the cooking.
"You don't have to cook for me," I say finally.
"I know. I want to." She glances at me. "Besides, I'm a much better cook than you are."
The teasing draws a reluctant smile from me, easing some of the tension from earlier. "That wouldn't be hard."
"Dad always said you could burn water."
"He wasn't wrong." I lean against the counter, watching her work. "You cook like him, you know. Same way of holding the knife."
Emotion flickers across her face. "I miss him."
"Me too." My voice roughens. "Every damn day."
Our eyes meet, shared grief creating a bridge between us. For a moment, the air thickens, that dangerous pull between us returning, stronger than before.
Then the sound of tires on gravel reaches us, breaking the moment. I tense, immediately on alert. No one drives up this mountain uninvited. No one except family.
"Stay here," I say, moving to the front window.
She ignores me, following close behind. Through the glass, I can see a truck pulling up beside hers. A hunter green Ford with a lift kit and oversized tires.
Brad Cooper.
My blood turns to ice, then fire. What the hell is he doing here? How dare he follow her to my home, to my mountain?
"What's he doing here?" Riley's voice shakes slightly.
"Go to the bedroom. Lock the door." My tone leaves no room for argument. Or shouldn't, anyway.
"Like hell I will." She grabs my arm. "This is my problem. I'm not hiding."
"Riley—"
"No." She meets my gaze steadily. "I'm not afraid of him."
Pride flickers through me, despite my concern. Her courage has always been remarkable, even as a kid. But right now, it's not what's needed.
"Fine. But you stay behind me." I move to the door, yanking it open before Cooper can knock.
Brad Cooper stands on my porch like he has a right to be there. Clean-cut, expensively dressed, the golden boy of Grizzly Ridge with his father's money and his own inflated ego. But there's a wildness in his eyes today, his perfect appearance slightly disheveled.
When he spots Riley behind me, his expression darkens. "There you are. Should've known you'd run straight to your daddy's friend."
The disrespect in his tone makes my hands curl into fists. "You're trespassing, Cooper. Turn around and leave while you still can."
He ignores me, focusing on Riley. "You've got some nerve, you know that? Filing assault charges after what you did to me?"
So Sawyer had helped her file a report. Good.
"What I did to you?" Riley steps around me, ignoring my attempt to keep her behind me. "You grabbed me. You left bruises." She holds up her wrist as evidence. "All I did was defend myself."
"You're exaggerating." Cooper's gaze flicks between her wrist and my face. "It wasn't that hard. You've always been too sensitive."
Fury rises in me, white-hot and deadly. I want to break every bone in his body, starting with the fingers that dared mark her skin.
"She asked you to leave." My voice has dropped to a dangerous rumble. "I won't ask again."
Cooper draws himself up, trying to match my height and failing miserably. "This isn't your business, McKenna. This is between me and my girlfriend."
"Ex," Riley corrects sharply. "Very, very ex."
"We had a fight, Riley. Couples fight. You don't just walk out and file charges over nothing."
"Nothing?" Her voice rises. "You threw my laptop out the window! You said my writing was a waste of time, that I'd never amount to anything. You called me worthless!"
Each word is like gasoline on the fire of my rage. This isn't just about the bruises now. It's about a man who dared to make Riley Hart, brilliant, fierce, beautiful Riley, feel small. Who tried to crush her spirit.
"You have exactly five seconds to get back in your truck and drive away," I say with deadly calm. "Or they'll be finding pieces of you in these mountains for the next decade."
Cooper's face pales, but he stands his ground. "Are you threatening me?"
"Promising." I take a step forward, and he instinctively backs up. "One."
"Riley, come on. We can talk about this." His voice takes on a wheedling tone. "I was angry. I didn't mean those things."
"Two." Another step.
Cooper looks to Riley, desperation creeping into his expression. "What about your stuff? All your clothes, your books, they're still at my place."
"Three." My hands curl into fists.
"Fine! Keep hiding behind your guard dog. But this isn't over." Cooper's gaze hardens. "My father's already talking to the mayor. Good luck finding a job in this town after what you did."
"Four." My voice promises violence.
Cooper finally seems to realize the danger he's in. He backpedals toward his truck, still hurling words over his shoulder. "You think you're too good for me? You're nothing, Riley. Nothing!"
"Five."
Cooper scrambles into his truck, engine roaring to life. As he peels out, sending gravel flying, I turn to Riley, still vibrating with barely contained rage.
"You should have stayed inside."
"And let you handle my fight for me? Not a chance." She meets my gaze defiantly. "I'm not a child, Elias. I don't need you to protect me from him."
"Clearly you do, since he followed you here." My voice is harsh with worry. "If I hadn't been home?—"
"What? You think I can't take care of myself?" Her eyes flash with anger. "I've been handling Brad Cooper for six months. I kneed him once, I can do it again."
"This isn't a joke, Riley! Men like that don't take rejection well. They escalate."
"You don't think I know that?" The words come out sharp. "I've spent my whole life around men who hunt, who fight, who see women as trophies or possessions. I grew up in this town too, remember? I know exactly what Brad is capable of."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration burning through me. "Then you should understand why I'm concerned."
"I understand that you made a promise to my father. That you see me as some kind of obligation." She steps closer, anger and hurt making her reckless. "Is that all I am to you, Elias? A responsibility? A burden?"
The question hits me hard. How can she not know? How can she not see that she's everything?
"You know that's not true."
"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you'll do anything to keep that promise, including denying what's happening between us."
We're toe to toe now, breathing hard, the air between us charged with anger and something far more dangerous. My eyes drop to her lips, just for a second, before I force them back to meet hers.
"There's nothing happening between us," I lie, each word torn from my throat.
"Liar." She reaches up, laying her palm against my cheek, her touch like a brand against my skin. "Tell me you don't feel this."
For one heartbeat, I allow myself to lean into her touch, eyes closing briefly. It would be so easy to give in. To take what she's offering. To claim what every instinct screams is already mine.
But Bill's face flashes in my mind. His trust. His faith in me. The promise I made while he struggled for his last breaths.
I step back, breaking contact. "Dinner's burning."
I turn toward the kitchen, desperate to escape the hurt and frustration in her eyes. The fajitas are smoking on the stove, the peppers blackened beyond saving. I dump them in the sink, fitting metaphor for the mess I've made of this situation.
But as I stand there, hands braced on the counter, I can still feel her touch on my cheek. Still sense her presence behind me, unwavering, determined.
I've faced Taliban fighters, drug cartels, poachers with illegal rifles. I've stared down bears and mountain lions without flinching.
But Riley Hart might just be the one opponent I can't defeat.