Page 11 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

RILEY

"Your preliminary report is completely unacceptable, Riley."

Margaret's voice slices through the phone connection, cold and sharp. I've stepped outside the admin cabin to take her call, the morning sun doing nothing to warm the chill spreading through me.

"The program has significant merits that need to be considered alongside the violations," I say, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. "The behavioral improvements alone justify—"

"That's not what the department sent you to evaluate." Margaret cuts me off. "We need documentation of safety violations, not a glowing endorsement of some mountain man's pet project."

I flinch at her dismissive tone. "I'm being thorough and objective, which is my job."

"Your job is to follow directives." The threat beneath her words is clear. "This promotion opportunity requires team players who understand department priorities."

I grip the phone tighter, watching a hawk circle lazily overhead. Just five days ago, I would have agreed with Margaret without hesitation. Now everything looks different.

"I've documented all seventeen regulatory violations," I tell her. "But I can't in good conscience recommend termination when the program shows such positive outcomes."

"Those 'positive outcomes' aren't quantifiable by department standards." Her sigh crackles through the connection. "Riley, I mentored you because I saw potential. Don't throw away your career on some wilderness program run by an unqualified former firefighter."

The description of Jax as "unqualified" ignites something protective in me. "His qualifications are evident in the results. These kids—"

"Are not your concern beyond safety verification." Margaret's voice hardens. "I need your final report by end of day. With a recommendation for termination based on critical safety violations. Is that clear?"

The ultimatum is insulting. She’s asking me to choose between my career trajectory versus my professional integrity.

"I understand what you're asking," I say carefully.

"Good. I expected this assignment might be challenging for someone at your experience level. That's why I'm being explicit about expectations." Her tone softens slightly. "You have tremendous potential, Riley. Don't let misplaced sympathies derail your future."

After we disconnect, I stand motionless on the porch, the phone heavy in my hand. Inside the cabin, Jax is preparing for today's activities, unaware that my supervisor is actively working to destroy everything he's built.

Last night was perfect. Cooking dinner in his kitchen. Talking for hours before falling into bed together. Waking this morning wrapped in his arms, feeling safer and more content than I've ever felt in my life.

Now reality intrudes, harsh and uncompromising.

I go back inside, finding Jax at the desk reviewing lesson plans. He looks up with a smile that falters when he sees my expression.

"What happened?" He sets down his papers, immediately alert.

"My supervisor called about my preliminary report." I set the phone down, buying time to organize my thoughts. "She was... displeased."

"Because you didn't recommend shutting us down." It's not a question.

"She only cares about the violations, not the successes." I sink into the chair across from him. "She wants me to revise my recommendation by end of day."

Something shutters in his expression. "And will you?"

"I don't know." The admission costs me. "This promotion is everything I've worked toward for three years."

He stands, putting distance between us. "And we're just a checkpoint on your career path."

"That's not fair." I rise too, hating the physical and emotional space opening between us. "I've been completely honest about the program's merits in my report."

"But when pushed, you'll fold." His voice carries no accusation, just a resigned certainty that hurts worse than anger would. "You'll choose your career over these kids."

"I didn't say that." Frustration builds in my chest. "I'm trying to find a solution that works for everyone."

"There isn't one." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as stress. "Either you stand by your evaluation or you don't. Either the program continues or it doesn't."

"It's more complicated than that."

"No, it's exactly that simple." His eyes hold mine, challenging. "What happens to Darius if this program closes? Or Mia? Where do they go?"

"Back to traditional programs." The words taste sour in my mouth.

"Which failed them before." He paces the small room. "You've seen what we're accomplishing here. Are you really willing to destroy that for a promotion?"

The accusation lands where he hopes. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it?" He stops, turning to face me fully. "When you have to choose between your career and what you know is right, which matters more to you?"

"Again, that's not a fair question." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm cabin. "My entire professional identity is built around protecting vulnerable youth. I can't just throw away my career."

"And I can't just stand by while bureaucrats who've never met these kids decide their futures from behind desks in Sacramento." The passion in his voice reminds me of why I was first drawn to him, despite our differences.

"I'm trying to find a middle ground." I step toward him, needing to bridge this growing divide. "Maybe if we address the most critical violations immediately—"

"We don't have time for 'maybe,' Riley." He checks his watch. "The kids are waiting for today's lesson. I need to go."

"Jax, please." I reach for his hand. "We need to finish this conversation."

He allows the contact but doesn't return the pressure of my fingers. "What's left to say? You have a decision to make. Make it. I have kids counting on me."

With that, he gently disengages from my touch and leaves, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that somehow hurts more than a slam would have.

I stand alone in the cabin, my professional and personal worlds colliding with devastating force. Whatever I decide, someone gets hurt. The kids. Jax. My career. Myself.

After twenty minutes of circular thinking, I grab my jacket and head outside. Maybe watching the program in action one more time will clarify things.

I find the group at the small lake a quarter-mile from the main camp.

They're building rafts from materials found in the forest, supervised by Jax and Mason.

The teamwork evident in their interactions showcases exactly what I've documented in my report.

Communication. Problem-solving. Conflict resolution through necessity rather than intervention.

I hang back, observing without interrupting. Jax notices me but gives no acknowledgment beyond a brief glance. The distance hurts more than it should after just five days of knowing him.

Mason approaches as the teens test their rafts in the shallows. "Quite the transformation from day one, isn't it?"

"Remarkable," I agree, watching Kevin willingly take direction from Darius without complaint.

"Jax has a gift." Mason sips from his ever-present thermos. "Not just with the techniques, but with seeing what each kid needs. When to push, when to step back."

"I've noticed." I wrap my arms around myself against the morning chill. "It's all in my report."

"Which I hear is causing some friction." At my surprised look, he shrugs. "Small program. Thin walls."

Heat rises to my cheeks. "My supervisor has specific expectations for my evaluation."

"Bureaucracy versus reality." He nods sagely. "The eternal struggle."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." Mason watches the teens with obvious pride. "But sometimes the right choice is painfully clear, even when it's the hardest one to make."

Before I can respond, shouts erupt from the lake. One of the rafts has capsized, dumping Mia and Tyler into the water. Jax moves immediately, wading in to help them right the unstable craft. Instead of panic, the teens laugh, working together to fix the structural issues that caused the failure.

"See that?" Mason gestures toward the scene. "A month ago, Mia would have exploded in frustration and Tyler would have given up. Now they're problem-solving through failure."

"The program works." I state what's become undeniable. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Worth fighting for, wouldn't you say?" With that parting comment, Mason returns to the group, leaving me with thoughts that offer no easy resolution.

I spend the morning observing, compiling additional notes, though my report is essentially complete. At lunch, I return to the admin cabin alone, needing space to think.

Sitting at Jax's desk, I open my laptop and stare at my report. Seventeen violations clearly documented. Program strengths thoroughly outlined. Recommendations for continued operation with modifications.

Everything Margaret doesn't want to see.

My phone rings, displaying the department number. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but professionalism wins out.

"Riley Chaffeur speaking."

"I'm checking on your progress with the revised report." Margaret's voice holds no warmth. "The deadline is five o'clock."

"I'm still working on it." I close my laptop, unable to look at the truth I've documented while contemplating betraying it.

"This shouldn't be difficult, Riley. Document the violations, recommend termination. Simple."

"Nothing about this is simple." The words escape before I can filter them.

Silence stretches across the connection. When Margaret speaks again, her voice has dropped to a dangerous quiet.

"I had such hopes for you. But it seems you've allowed personal feelings to cloud your professional judgment."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"We received an anonymous call this morning. Apparently, our evaluator has been observed in a rather intimate relationship with the program director she's supposed to be assessing objectively."