Page 1 of Rugged Mountain Man (Men of Ravencliff Mountain #1)

Sadie

The mountains are supposed to be peaceful, aren’t they? Healing, serene, life-affirming. At least, that’s what my sister Chloe told me before I packed my bags and drove six hours out of the city.

“You need this,” she’d said. “Get away from the chaos for a while and go find yourself.”

But now?

Right now, I’m soaked to the bone, freezing, and certain I’m lost. Healing, my ass.

It all sounded so perfect when I booked it.

The Recharge in Nature package at Sweet Haven cabins promised guided hikes, cozy cabins, and gourmet campfire meals.

Escape the grind and rediscover your inner peace is what the website promised me .

I was sold. After a trainwreck of a year, inner peace sounded like a steal for $399.

But like everything else in my life, nothing is ever peaceful.

Drama is bound to follow me wherever I go.

The guided hike started out harmless enough—until the group of retirees I was stuck with wouldn’t stop talking about their grandkids.

I wanted quiet, I wanted space to think.

Instead, I got Edna’s recipes for tuna casserole, which I will never make, and Stan’s opinion on how the younger generations just “doesn’t get it”.

So, I wandered off. Just a little break. Just to clear my head. And now I’m… here. Trudging over uneven rocks, trying not to slip and break my neck.

The wind picks up, howling through the peaks, and my jacket’s no match for it. My phone died an hour ago, not that it mattered with zero signal out here. The fog is thick, and every direction looks the same.

Panic creeps in, but I shove it down. I’ve been through worse, haven’t I?

Like when my boss announced in front of the entire office that I’d lose my job if I didn’t close a sale by the end of the month.

How was I supposed to know that the market would slow down right as I joined the real estate game?

That humiliation felt like drowning. This?

This is just… wet and cold and terrifying.

The storm worsens, rain lashing my face. My foot slips on a loose rock, and I stumble forward, catching myself just before I hit the ground. My heart pounds.

“Okay, Sadie,” I mutter. “You’re fine. Just find the trail.”

But there’s no trail. Just endless rock and scrub and—

Snap.

The sound is metallic, sharp, and immediate. Pain shoots up my leg, white-hot and blinding. I scream, falling hard on my hands and knees. My breath comes fast and shallow as I look down.

A metal trap. The kind you see in survival documentaries. Its rusted teeth clamp around my ankle, and blood seeps through my leggings.

“No, no, no,” I gasped. The jagged metal digs deeper as I twist. Tears blur my vision as frustration bubbles up. How did I even get here? How is this my life?

I scream again, louder this time, my voice cracking. But the storm swallows the sound, leaving me alone with the wind and the ache in my leg.

My fingers are numb, my breathing is shallow. Minutes pass. Maybe hours. The rain hasn’t let up. My leg throbs in time with my heartbeat, and I’m so cold my teeth won’t stop chattering.

I rest my head against a jagged rock, eyes closed. This isn’t how I pictured my big “escape.” I thought I’d spend the weekend hiking, maybe journaling in a cozy cabin with a glass of wine. Resetting my frazzled mind. Figuring out how to save my career before it crumbles completely.

Not… this.

A sound cuts through the rain—footsteps. Heavy. Steady. My eyes snap open, scanning the fog.

“Hello?” My voice is raw, barely audible. “Is someone there?”

The footsteps get closer, deliberate. Fear knots in my stomach. What if it’s a bear? Or worse, a—

A man steps out of the mist.

Holy hell.

He’s huge. Broad shoulders stretch his rain-soaked jacket, and his arms look like he could throw a horse over his shoulder just for fun.

His beard is thick, dripping with rain, and frames a jawline carved from granite.

The hood of his jacket barely hides the sharp planes of his face, but what really gets me are his eyes. Dark and piercing.

Mountain men come like this? If I’d known, I would’ve wandered off the trail hours ago. My pulse skips, even as my brain screams danger. Because let’s face it—why is this big dude out here just lurking in the woods?

His dark eyes flick down to my leg, trapped and bloodied, then back to my face. He doesn’t move, just stares at me like the wounded animal I am.

“You always get yourself caught in traps, or is today special?” His voice is low and gravelly, cutting through the storm like a blade.

Relief and wariness flood me all at once. “N-no,” I stammer, ignoring the bite in his tone. “I… I got lost.”

“Clearly.” His gaze sharpens, scanning the area around us before settling back on me. “Lucky for you, I check my traps every day. Otherwise, you’d be spending the night out here, which doesn’t seem like something you would survive.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, anger pushing through the pain. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Are you going to help me or just stand there criticizing?”

He grunts—a low, unimpressed sound—and crouches beside me. “Hold still,” he mutters, pulling a tool from his belt. His movements are deliberate, practiced, like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“How often do people step in your traps, anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the throbbing in my leg.

“Never.” He glances at me, his mouth twitching like he might laugh. “You’re a first.”

“Great. Glad I could make your day more exciting,” I mutter, biting back a wince as he works the trap open.

“Hold still,” he says, not unkindly.

I brace myself, biting back a whimper as he works the trap open. It snaps free, and I cry out as blood rushes back into my leg.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he mutters.

“No kidding,” I snap, glaring at him through the rain. “What gave it away? The screaming?”

He stands, towering over me, and offers a hand. His palm is wide, solid. Reluctantly, I take it, and he pulls me to my feet like I weigh nothing. Pain shoots through my ankle, and I stumble against him.

His arm comes around me, steadying. “You can’t walk on that.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, though my body disagrees.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he bends down, sweeping me into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey!” I squirm, ignoring the way my pulse quickens at the heat of him. “Put me down!”

“Stop arguing,” he says flatly. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die as I look up at him. His face is stern, his eyes unreadable, but there’s something about the way he holds me—like he won’t let anything happen to me tonight.

“You stepped in a rusty trap,” he mutters. “I need to check your leg. I have a cabin up ahead.”

“I’m fine,” I say, though even I don’t believe it. My ankle throbs like it’s on fire, and I’m certain there’s dried blood caked into my leggings.

“ Fine doesn’t look like that.” His gaze flicks to my leg briefly before returning to the trail ahead. “You’ll probably need a tetanus shot.”

“A tetanus shot?” I grimace. “I haven’t had one of those since, like… high school.”

“Figures,” he grumbles under his breath. “Lucky for you, I’ve got one.”

“You have a tetanus shot?” I blink at him, incredulous. “What, you moonlight as a doctor?”

His lips twitch, fighting a smirk. “No. But when you live this far out, you learn to be prepared. Injuries like this aren’t exactly rare.”

“Oh,” I grumble. I guess of all the people who could have found me trapped and wounded, I’m glad it’s the big bear man who seems prepared for anything, including a city girl getting lost on an easy trail.

He shifts me slightly in his arms, his grip impossibly steady. “Stop fidgeting. I’ll get you patched up and warmed up, then you can complain all you want.”

“Who are you?” I ask finally, my voice small.

“Cole,” he says simply. “And you’re coming with me.”

“I’m Sadie.”

Sadie. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

The wind howls around us as he starts walking, each step steady and sure. I rest my head against his chest, too cold and tired to argue anymore.

Safe.

For the first time in hours, I feel safe.