Page 12 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

Ice floods my veins. Someone in town must have assumed. Whisper Vale is small enough that gossip travels fast.

"My personal life has no bearing on my professional assessment," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Normally I'd agree." Margaret's tone suggests otherwise. "But in this case, the conflict of interest is glaring. I'm reassigning the evaluation effective immediately."

"You can't do that." Panic rises in my throat. "My report is nearly complete."

"A report now tainted by your inability to maintain professional boundaries." She sighs heavily. "This is disappointing, Riley. I expected better."

"My assessment is valid," I insist. "The program has issues but delivers extraordinary results."

"Your opinion is no longer relevant to this matter." The finality in her voice sends chills down my spine. "Jenkins will arrive tomorrow to complete the evaluation. Please provide your notes and vacate the premises by noon."

"Margaret, please listen—"

"This conversation is over." The line goes dead.

I sit frozen, phone still pressed to my ear. Jenkins is the department's hatchet man, sent in when a program's fate is predetermined. His arrival means only one thing: Peak Survival is already condemned.

Because of me. Because I couldn't maintain professional distance. Because I fell for the very man I was sent to evaluate.

The irony crushes me. By following my heart, I've destroyed the program I was trying to save.

I need to tell Jax. The thought of facing him with this news makes me physically ill, but he deserves to hear it from me.

I find him at the climbing wall with the teens, demonstrating advanced techniques. His movements are fluid and confident, his focus absolute. He belongs here in these mountains, helping these kids find strength they never knew they possessed.

And I've ruined it all.

I wait until the lesson concludes and the teens head to the mess cabin for afternoon break. Jax spots me as he packs away equipment, his expression guarded.

"I need to talk to you," I say, approaching cautiously. "Privately."

He nods, leading me away from the main areas to a small clearing overlooking the valley. The view is breathtaking, Nevada mountains stretching to the horizon under a perfect blue sky.

"Margaret called again," I begin, words sticking in my throat. "Someone reported our... relationship to the department."

His face remains impassive, but his knuckles whiten as he grips the climbing rope in his hands. "And?"

"She's claiming conflict of interest. Reassigning the evaluation to Jenkins." I swallow hard. "He arrives tomorrow."

"Jenkins." The single word carries recognition and resignation. "So that's it then. Game over."

"I'm so sorry, Jax." My voice breaks. "This is all my fault."

"Did you make the call?" His question catches me off guard.

"What? No, of course not."

"Then it's not your fault." He coils the rope with aggressive movements. "Small towns have eyes everywhere. It was naive to think we could keep this private."

His calm acceptance is somehow worse than anger. "I'll fight this," I promise. "I'll submit my original report anyway. Explain the situation to my director."

"It won't matter." He secures the coiled rope with a practiced knot. "Once the department decides to shut something down, they find a way."

"So you're just giving up?" Frustration bubbles up through my guilt. "After everything you've built here?"

"I'm being realistic." He finally meets my eyes. "The program was always operating on borrowed time. Judge Martinez can only shield us so much."

"What about the kids? What happens to them?"

Pain flashes across his features. "They go back into the system. Where people like your department decide their futures with checklists and protocols instead of seeing them as individuals."

The accusation stings because it carries truth. "That's not fair. I tried to save your program."

"Did you?" He steps closer, intensity radiating from him. "Or did you hedge your bets? Write a report that satisfied your conscience while leaving room for your superiors to interpret it however they wanted?"

"I documented the truth." I stand my ground despite the tears threatening to fall. "Every violation and every success."

"And when Margaret pushed back this morning, you hesitated." He shakes his head. "You couldn't choose between your career and what you knew was right."

"That's not what happened." But even as I say it, I question myself. Did I equivocate when I should have stood firm?

"It doesn't matter now." He turns away, staring out at the valley. "You should pack your things. Head back to Sacramento."

"I'm not leaving like this." I reach for his arm. "Not with everything unresolved between us."

He doesn't pull away from my touch, but he doesn't respond to it either. "What exactly is there to resolve, Riley? You have your career. I had my program. We had a few good nights. End of story."

The dismissal of what we shared cuts deeper than anything else. "It was more than that. You know it was."

"Was it?" He finally turns to face me. "Or was I just a walk on the wild side for you? The rough mountain man who could show the city girl a good time?"

"That's not fair." Anger pushes through my hurt. "You know how I feel about you."

"Actually, I don't." His voice softens, revealing pain beneath the stoicism. "Because when it mattered, when you had to choose, you couldn't put words to those feelings. Couldn't make them real enough to fight for."

"I'm still fighting." I step closer, desperate to make him understand. "I'll go to the director. Appeal Margaret's decision."

"Don't." The single word stops me cold. "Your career matters to you. I respect that. Don't throw it away on a lost cause."

"You're not a lost cause." My voice breaks. "The program isn't either."

"Go home, Riley." He gently disengages from my touch. "Write Margaret’s report. Get your promotion. Live the life you've worked for."

"Without you in it?" The question escapes before I can stop it.

Something flickers in his eyes, gone before I can identify it. "We both know a Sacramento social worker and a mountain man in Nevada was never going to work long-term."

The finality in his voice breaks something inside me. He's already given up. On the program. On us. On possibilities I've only just begun to imagine.

"So that's it?" I blink back tears. "One obstacle and you're done?"

"I fight battles I can win." He steps back, creating physical distance to match the emotional chasm opening between us. "This isn't one of them."

I stand alone as he walks away, the beautiful valley view blurring through my tears. Five days ago, I arrived determined to find flaws in this program. Now I'm leaving having found something precious instead, only to lose it before it fully bloomed.

The irony would be poetic if it didn't hurt so damn much.