Page 13 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

CHAPTER NINE

JAX

THREE DAYS LATER

The axe bites into the log with a satisfying thunk.

I lift it again, letting the weight of the tool and gravity do most of the work before it crashes down, splitting another piece of firewood.

Three days since Riley left. Two days since Judge Martinez called with the news that Peak Survival has exactly two weeks to shut down operations.

Two days of knowing she actually went through with it. She chose her career, just like I predicted. Just like I told her to.

I swing the axe again, harder than necessary. The wood splits with a crack that echoes across the clearing. Sweat trickles down my back despite the cool morning air. I've been at this for over an hour, trying to work out the frustration and hurt with physical labor.

It isn't working.

"Killing those logs won't change anything." Mason approaches from the direction of the bunkhouse, two mugs of coffee in hand. "Though I appreciate the winter stockpile."

I drive the axe into the chopping block and accept the offered mug. "Kids up?"

"Jesse has them doing morning exercises." Mason leans against a nearby tree. "They're worried about you."

"Nothing to worry about." I sip the coffee, avoiding his eyes. "Program's closing. We've got two weeks to wrap things up. It is what it is."

"That’s pure bullshit, and you know it." Mason rarely curses, which makes it more effective when he does. "You're not okay, Jax. Haven't been since she left."

I set the mug down harder than intended. "This isn't about Riley."

"Isn't it?" He watches me with the same patience he shows the teens. "You told her to leave. To write the report that would shut us down. To take the promotion."

"And she did." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "Jenkins never showed up because she'd already done his job for him."

"You don't know that."

"Two weeks to shut down says otherwise." I retrieve the axe, needing the weight of it in my hands. "Judge Martinez made it clear. Department's decision is final."

"So that's it? The great Jaxon Reeves just gives up?" Mason shakes his head. "Not the man I thought you were."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I turn to face him fully. "Fight the entire state bureaucracy with what? Good intentions? Results they don't care about?"

"Fight for what matters." He gestures toward the bunkhouse where the kids' voices carry faintly. "For them. For her."

"She made her choice." I bring the axe down hard, splitting another log clean through. "Sacramento over Whisper Vale. Career over us."

"You told her to."

"I didn't think she'd actually do it!" The admission bursts out before I can stop it. "I thought she'd..." I trail off, unable to articulate what I'd hoped for.

"Thought she'd what?" Mason presses. "Choose you over everything she's worked for? After knowing you less than a week?"

Put that way, it sounds ridiculous. Entitled. Yet some part of me had believed exactly that. Had hoped she felt what I felt. That magnetic pull that made everything else secondary.

"Doesn't matter now." I set up another log. "Program's closing. Kids are being reassigned. Life goes on."

"If you believe that, you're not half as smart as I thought." Mason finishes his coffee. "The kids need direction for their final project today. When you're done torturing lumber, we could use your expertise."

He leaves me with my thoughts and my axe, both equally dangerous in my current state. I split a few more logs before my phone rings. Judge Martinez. Again.

"Reeves," I answer, dreading more bad news.

"Jax." His voice carries its usual gravitas. "How are things progressing with the shutdown?"

"As well as can be expected." I wipe sweat from my brow. "Kids know they're being reassigned. Mason's updating his resumes. We're cataloging equipment for redistribution."

"I see." He pauses. "I wanted you to know I'm still making inquiries. This decision seems rushed, even by department standards."

"Appreciate that, Your Honor, but we both know how this ends."

"Perhaps." Another pause. "Though I received an interesting message this morning. Anonymous. Regarding your program."

My heart rate picks up despite my efforts to remain detached. "What kind of message?"

"That someone is fighting for Peak Survival at the highest levels of the department. Someone with, shall we say, unorthodox determination."

"Did they leave a name?"

"No. Just a message to pass along to you." He clears his throat. "And I quote: 'Tell him sometimes you have to say, excuse my French, but fuck the department.' End quote."

My breath catches. Those words. That phrasing. It has to be Riley.

"Judge, do you know who sent this?"

"Officially, no." His tone suggests otherwise. "Unofficially, it appears someone in Sacramento believes your program deserves better than a rubber-stamp termination."

"I need to go." My mind races with possibilities. "Thank you for the information."

"Good luck, Jax." He disconnects.

I stand motionless, the phone still in my hand. Riley is fighting for the program. For the kids. For us? The hope I've been suppressing roars back to life.

I find Mason in the mess cabin, overseeing the teens as they plan their final project.

"I need to go to Sacramento," I announce without preamble. "Today. Now."

Mason studies my face, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Take my truck. Better on highways than your rig."

"Can you handle things here? It’s a long drive. Might be overnight."

"We've got this." He tosses me his keys. "Go get her, Jax."

I don't waste time arguing that this is about the program, not Riley. We both know that's a lie. Within thirty minutes, I'm showered, changed, and on the road, Mason's truck eating up the miles toward Sacramento.

The drive gives me too much time to think.

What if I'm wrong? What if the message wasn't from her?

What if she doesn't want to see me after the things I said?

I told her to leave, to write the report, to get her promotion.

I pushed her away because I was too proud, too afraid to fight for what I really wanted.

Her.

Six hours on mountain roads and highways brings me to the outskirts of Sacramento by mid-afternoon. I realize I don't actually know where the Department of Social Services is located, or if Riley would even be there. I pull into a gas station to refuel and search for the address on my phone.

As I'm pumping gas, a familiar silver Prius zooms past on the main road. My head snaps up, eyes tracking the vehicle. It can't be. But that bumper sticker for a Sacramento radio station. The University of California frame around the license plate.

It's her. Heading in the direction I just came from.

I finish pumping as quickly as possible, pay, and peel out of the gas station, accelerating to catch up with the Prius now several minutes ahead. Traffic thickens as I push Mason's truck harder than he'd appreciate, desperate not to lose her.

There. Three cars ahead. The silver Prius signals for the highway on-ramp. The highway that leads back toward Nevada. Toward Whisper Vale.

She's heading back to find me.

I follow at a distance, not wanting to frighten her by suddenly appearing in her rearview mirror. Once we're on the open highway, I gradually close the gap, heart pounding with each mile. When I'm directly behind her, I flash my lights.

Her brake lights come on as she checks her mirror. The Prius slows, then pulls onto the shoulder. I follow suit, parking behind her.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then her door opens, and she steps out, looking back at the unfamiliar truck with confusion. I exit Mason's truck, and her expression transforms from confusion to shock to something I'm afraid to name.

We stand there, twenty feet apart on the shoulder of a highway somewhere between her world and mine.

"Jax?" She takes a tentative step forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find you." I close the distance between us. "Judge Martinez got your message."

"My message?" Her eyes widen. "How did you know it was me?"

"'Fuck the department'?" I can't help the smile that breaks through. "Not exactly standard bureaucratic language. I’m a bad influence on you."

She laughs, the sound cutting through the tension between us. "I may have been emotional when I called him."

"Riley." I stop a few feet from her, suddenly unsure. "The program's being shut down. Two weeks notice."

"I know." Her expression turns serious. "That's why I was coming to find you."

"You were?" Hope surges in my chest.

"I couldn't leave things the way we did." She takes another step toward me. "I couldn't let them destroy something that works so well just because it doesn't fit their checkboxes."

"So you told your boss to, what, exactly?"

"I went over Margaret's head." Her eyes shine with determination. "Straight to the director with my original report and video evidence of the program's effectiveness. I spent two days compiling testimonials from former participants, outcome statistics, everything I could find."

"You did that? For the program?"

"For the program." She takes another step closer. "For the kids. For you."

My throat tightens with emotion I can't suppress. "I told you to take the promotion. To forget about us."

"And I decided that was the stupidest advice I've ever gotten." She's close enough now that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "I quit, Jax."

"You what?" I stare at her in disbelief.

"I resigned from the department." She says it simply, as if leaving her career isn't the biggest sacrifice I could imagine her making. "I couldn't work for an organization that cares more about liability than actual results."

"Riley, your career... the promotion..."

"Wasn't worth it." She reaches for my hand, her fingers warm against mine. "Not if it meant betraying everything I believe in. Not if it meant losing you."

The last words hang in the air between us. I search her face, looking for any sign of regret or uncertainty. There is none.

"I was coming to Sacramento to find you," I admit. "To tell you I was an idiot. That I never should have pushed you away."

"You were protecting yourself." Her thumb traces circles on my palm. "Protecting the kids. I understand that now."

"I was scared," I admit, she deserves the truth. "Scared of what I feel for you. Scared it would hurt too much when you left."

"What if I don't want to leave?" Her question hangs between us, full of possibility.

"What about your life in Sacramento?"

"I packed what matters." She gestures toward her Prius. "The rest is just stuff."

I reach for her then, unable to maintain distance any longer. She comes into my arms like she belongs there, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

"I love you, Riley Chaffeur." The words I've been holding back finally break free. "I've loved you since you showed up with your tablet and regulations and refused to back down."

"I love you too." She rises on tiptoes, her face tilted toward mine. "Even when you were being impossibly stubborn and growling at me like some grumpy bear."

I laugh against her lips before capturing them with mine. The kiss is everything we've left unsaid. Apology. Forgiveness. Promise. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"Wait." Reality sets in. "You said you quit. What about the program?"

Her smile turns mischievous. "I quit after I went to the director and presented my case. After she overruled Margaret and approved the program's continuation."

"What?" I can hardly process her words.

"Peak Survival has been granted a one-year provisional approval, with quarterly reviews.

" She sounds like she's reciting the best news of her life.

"And they're looking into additional funding for programs with your success rate.

Turns out the department has grants specifically for innovative rehabilitation approaches. Margaret was sitting on them."

"So the program's not closing?" I struggle to keep up with this rapid reversal of fortune.

"Not only is it not closing, it may be becoming a model program." She beams with pride. "The director wants to see it herself next month."

Relief crashes through me so powerfully my knees nearly buckle. "The kids get to stay?"

"They get to stay." She nods. "And graduate properly from the program you designed."

I pull her to me again, lifting her off her feet in a bear hug that makes her laugh. When I set her down, a thought occurs to me.

"What will you do now?"

"Well." She looks up at me through her lashes. "I thought maybe Peak Survival could use someone to handle compliance issues. Someone who knows the regulations but also understands when they need to be adapted."

"Are you offering to work for me?" I can't help the grin spreading across my face.

"With you," she corrects. "As a partner. If you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?" I shake my head in wonder. "Riley Chaffeur, I want you in every way possible. As my partner in the program. As my partner in life. Everything."

"Everything sounds perfect." She rises on tiptoes again to press her lips to mine.

We stand there on the side of the highway, halfway between her world and mine, creating something new together. Something neither of us expected when she first arrived at Peak Survival with her tablet and regulations.

"We should probably get off this highway," I murmur against her hair. "Before we cause an accident."

"A random car left at the side of the highway might raise some eyebrows," she agrees.

"Follow me home?" I ask, the question carrying more weight than just the drive.

Her smile is radiant. "I think I already have."

We return to our vehicles, but this time I know it's not a goodbye. It's just the beginning of a journey we're taking together. As her Prius pulls in behind Mason's truck, I catch her eyes in my rearview mirror.

Some people search their whole lives for purpose, for belonging, for home. I found mine when a by-the-book social worker from Sacramento showed up to evaluate my program and ended up evaluating my heart instead.

And somehow, against all odds, we both passed inspection.