Page 5 of Rugged Mountain Man (Men of Ravencliff Mountain #1)

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip like she’s holding back a smile. “You’re good at this, you know. Making people second-guess themselves.”

“Just being honest,” I say. “Not everyone’s cut out for it, though. The quiet. The work. The isolation.”

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t think I could handle it?”

The corner of my mouth lifts, just enough to tease her. “Didn’t say that. You’re tougher than you look.”

Her lips curve into a smile, but there’s something else in her eyes now—something softer, more uncertain. “I guess I’d have to find out.”

“Eat your pie before I do,” I say, my voice rough.

Her eyes flash to mine before she smirks. Thankfully she takes another bite, giving me a moment to pull myself together. She’s dangerous, sitting there like temptation made flesh, and I’m hanging on by a thread.

When she finally sets her fork down, she props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “So,” she says, her voice playful, “what’s next on this little date of ours?”

My pulse spikes. She called it a date, again. The word rolls around in my head like it belongs there. Mine.

I lean back in the booth, crossing my arms. “Thought I’d show you the stables.”

“The stables?” she echoes, tilting her head, curious but hesitant. “I mean, I don’t know much about horses, but… okay?”

“It’s more than just horses,” I say, my voice firm. “It’s my outfitters camp. Got a whole operation up there—pack string for hauling gear into the backcountry, cabins for guests. And I figured you’d want to see where your new cabin is.”

“My… new cabin?” she asks, standing and slipping on her coat. Her cheeks flush, her teasing confidence slipping into something softer. It’s like the idea catches her off guard, but she doesn’t say no.

“Yeah,” I say, standing and tossing a few bills on the table. “Unless you’d rather go back to Sweet Haven. But something tells me you’re not ready for that.”

She pauses outside the diner, the cold air turning her breath into little clouds. “You’re not wrong,” she admits, her voice quieter now.

I nod, gesturing toward the truck. “Good. Let’s go. You’ve got a lot to see.”

As we drive, I keep my eyes on the road, but I can feel her beside me, her presence like a hum in my veins. Every glance she steals out the window, every little shift in her seat—she’s winding me up without even trying.

The crunch of gravel under the truck tires gives way to the soft neighing of horses as we pull up to the stables. I glance over at Sadie, and her eyes are wide, sparkling with curiosity as she takes it all in.

“This is your outfitters camp?” she asks, stepping out of the truck. Her voice is tinged with awe as she looks around at the sprawling setup—rustic cabins, neatly stacked hay bales, and the long wooden stable with its weathered charm.

“Part of it,” I say, watching her as she takes it all in. “It’s where I keep my horses during the off-season. Camp’s mostly for summer guests running pack trips.”

She turns to me, her brow furrowing slightly. “You take people out into the mountains?”

I nod. “Tourists. Hunters. Sometimes researchers. They come here thinking they know the wilderness, but most of them wouldn’t last a day without the horses or a guide.” I pause, letting my gaze drop to her. “You included.”

She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch with a smile. “I wasn’t exactly prepared, okay?”

“No kidding.” I gesture toward the stable. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the ones who really run the show.”

The scent of hay and leather wraps around us as we step into the stables. The horses whinny softly, their breath fogging the cool air. Sadie walks slowly, her fingers brushing over the stall doors as if she’s afraid to disturb the peace.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispers, her voice full of wonder.

I stop at Clover’s stall and nod toward the pregnant mare. “This one’s due in a few weeks.”

Sadie steps closer, her hand hovering over Clover’s side. “Can I…?”

“Go ahead,” I say, leaning against the stall door. My eyes follow the way her hand moves, gentle and tentative at first, then firmer as Clover leans into her touch. “She likes you.”

Sadie glances back at me, her smile soft. “She’s incredible. You must love working with them.”

I shrug, trying to keep it casual, but her enthusiasm is contagious. “They’re honest. Reliable. Don’t take much to make them happy. Just food, water, and respect.”

“Sounds nice,” she says, her tone wistful. “Simpler than… everything else.”

The way she says it makes my chest tighten. “You think you could handle this kind of work?”

Her head tilts, her lips quirking. “Me? With horses?”

“Why not?” I say, stepping closer. “You’re staying a few more days. And I need some help. My stable hand just came down with chicken pox believe it or not. Might as well make yourself useful.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Good time to learn.” I gesture to Clover. “Start here. You’ll feed her, brush her, keep her comfortable. Simple stuff.”

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip—a habit that’s quickly becoming a personal weakness of mine. “I don’t know…”

“Sadie.” My voice drops, and her eyes snap to mine. “You said you needed clarity. This? It’s as clear as it gets. Just you, the horses, and the work. No distractions.”

Her gaze wavers, like she’s trying to find a reason to say no but can’t. Finally, she exhales. “Okay. I’ll try.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral even as satisfaction rolls through me. She doesn’t know it yet, but this is the first step to keeping her here. To keeping her mine .

“Good.” I straighten and gesture toward the rest of the stables. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

As we walk, her questions come rapid-fire—about the horses, the pack trips, the cabins. She’s curious, eager, and every answer seems to pull her further into my world. By the time we finish the tour, there’s a flush of excitement on her cheeks that makes my pulse quicken.

“This is amazing,” she says, turning to me as we step outside. “I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing, but… I think I could get used to it.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. She has no idea how much I want that—how much I want her here, with me, for good.

“You will,” I say simply, my voice rougher than I intended. “And don’t worry—I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Her brows lift, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a fact,” I say, letting a small smile tug at my mouth. “Now come on. You’ve got work to do.”

As she follows me to her cabin for the night., I can’t help but think: She doesn’t know it yet, but this place? This life? It’s already hers. She just has to realize it.