Page 7 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

CHAPTER SIX

RILEY

The day has been a blur since our kiss by the climbing wall this morning.

Every time Jax and I make eye contact, electricity crackles between us, though we've maintained careful distance in front of the teens.

My skin still tingles with the memory of his mouth on mine, his strong hands cupping my face with unexpected tenderness.

Evening has settled over the camp, the teens gathered around the outdoor fire pit after dinner. I've spent the afternoon pretending to focus on my evaluation while actually replaying our kiss in my mind, wondering if it was a one-time moment of weakness or something more.

Jax stands before the group, commanding attention without raising his voice. "I have an announcement," he says, his deep voice carrying easily in the crisp evening air. "You've all completed the required wilderness survival training successfully."

The teens exchange curious glances, sensing something significant coming.

"Starting tonight," Jax continues, "you've all earned bunkhouse privileges."

Cheers erupt from the group, high-fives exchanged even between former antagonists like Darius and Kevin. Three days of shared challenges have forged connections I wouldn't have believed possible when I arrived.

"Real beds," Mia sighs dramatically. "I never thought I'd miss something so basic."

"Appreciate what you have by experiencing its absence," Jax says, quoting what I've come to recognize as one of his core philosophies. "Now go get your gear from the shelters and set up in the bunkhouse. Jesse's in charge of assignments."

As the teens disperse, excitement energizing their movements, Jax approaches me by the fire. The flames cast shadows across his face, highlighting those sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his blue eyes.

"Completing your report tonight?" he asks, voice neutral though his eyes hold heat.

"I should organize my notes," I clutch my tablet like a shield. "Make sure I haven't missed anything."

"Your evaluation ended about an hour ago," he points out, checking his watch. "You asked for three days. Time's up."

I blink, realizing he's right. My official observation period concluded at 8 PM, exactly 72 hours after my arrival. "I suppose it did."

"Yet you're still here." A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "The roads have been clear for two days now."

Heat rises to my cheeks. He's right again. The storm passed, the roads dried, and I've had plenty of opportunities to return to town. To Sacramento. To my real life.

"I wanted to be thorough," I say, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Thorough," he repeats, stepping closer. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Before I can respond, Tyler calls for Jax from the direction of the bunkhouse. Something about proper bunk assignments and a dispute with Kevin.

"Duty calls," Jax says, his voice lowered for my ears only. "Meet me in the admin cabin in an hour?"

It's framed as a question, but the heat in his eyes makes it feel like much more. A promise. An invitation.

"I'll be there," I answer, my voice steadier than I feel.

As he walks away, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

What am I doing? I came here to evaluate a program, not fall for its ruggedly handsome director.

But something has shifted since that first antagonistic meeting, something fundamental in how I see both the program and the man behind it.

I retreat to the admin cabin, tablet in hand, though I know I won't get any actual work done.

My notes cover every aspect of the program, from safety protocols to educational content to behavioral management.

The violations are numerous but fixable.

The successes are harder to quantify but impossible to ignore.

My supervisor expects a recommendation for program termination. The evidence supports a different conclusion.

The sun sets as I pace the cabin, anticipation building with each passing minute. Outside, the forest grows quiet except for the occasional burst of laughter from the distant bunkhouse. The teens' excitement at this small reward speaks volumes about the program's effectiveness.

When the door finally opens, Jax fills the frame, backlit by the porch light. He's impossibly broad-shouldered and solid, radiating a physical presence that makes the cabin feel suddenly smaller.

"You're still here," he says, shrugging out of his jacket.

"You asked me to be." I set my tablet aside, suddenly hyperaware of being alone with him.

"I meant in Whisper Vale." He moves to the woodstove, adding a log to the banked fire. "You could have left yesterday. Or the day before. Roads have been fine."

"Are you suggesting I should have left?" I stand, needing to feel on equal footing despite our height difference.

"I'm suggesting you wanted to stay." He straightens, turning to face me fully. "Not for your evaluation. For something else."

The directness of his statement leaves nowhere to hide. "Maybe I did."

"No maybe about it." He takes a step toward me. "Your department got their three days. Who are you here for now, Riley?"

"For myself," I admit, the truth finally spoken aloud. "And for the kids. I may have realized that your approach has merit. Though the department would prefer more conventional accommodations from the start."

He straightens. "I told you, I don’t care about the department’s ideas. What do you think?"

The question echoes our conversation before the kiss, deliberate in its directness. "I think there's room for both structure and challenge." I meet his gaze directly. "Safety doesn't have to mean stagnation."

"Careful." A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "That sounds dangerously like support for my program."

"I support what works." I take a step toward him, drawn by something I can't resist. "Your methods get results, even if they break some rules along the way."

"And how do you feel about breaking rules?" He doesn't move, letting me set the pace between us.

The question lands like a stone in still water, ripples spreading through me. My entire career has been built on following rules, exceeding expectations within established frameworks. Yet here I stand, contemplating crossing the most fundamental professional boundary.

"I'm still figuring that out," I answer honestly.

"I can help with that." His voice drops lower, a rough edge promising things I've never experienced. Something flares in his eyes, hot and possessive. "Come here."

I cross the room without hesitation, all pretense of professional distance abandoned. When I reach him, he cups my face in his large hands, studying me with an intensity that steals my breath.

His thumbs brush my cheekbones. "Once we cross this line, there's no going back."

"I'm sure." I place my hands on his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath my palm. "I've never been more sure of anything."

His mouth claims mine with none of the tentativeness of our first kiss.

This is hunger unleashed, possession declared.

I respond with equal fervor, arms sliding around his neck as his hands span my waist. He tastes like wilderness and fantasy, his stubble rough against my skin as he deepens the kiss.

He walks me backward until I feel the edge of the desk behind me. In one fluid motion, he lifts me onto it, stepping between my thighs as his mouth trails from my lips to my jaw, then down the column of my throat.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmurs against my skin. "Since I saw you standing by that ridiculous city car, looking so perfectly out of place."

"Even when I was trying to shut down your program?" I thread my fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth back to mine.

"Especially then." He nips at my lower lip. "All that passion needed better direction."

His hands roam from my waist to my hips, then back up to tease the undersides of my breasts through my shirt. Each touch ignites nerves I never knew existed, drawing sounds from me I've never made before.

"Jax," I gasp when his thumb brushes over my nipple through the fabric.

"I've got you," he promises, voice rough with desire. "But you need to know where this is going. I want you in my bed. All night."

The boldness of his statement sends heat pooling low in my belly. "Yes," I whisper, reaching for the buttons of my shirt with trembling fingers.

He stills my hands with his own. "The kids will be in the bunkhouse all night. It's just us here. No interruptions. No holding back. I need to know you're ready for that."

The meaning behind his words sinks in. He's giving me a chance to set boundaries, to decide how far this goes. The consideration behind the gesture only makes me want him more.

"There's something you should know," I say, gathering my courage. "I haven't... I've never..."

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "You're a virgin?"

I nod, heat flooding my cheeks. "My career always came first. I’ve pleasured myself, but there was never anyone I wanted enough to..."

Instead of pulling away as I half-feared, he cups my face with surprising tenderness. "Thank you for telling me." His voice has softened, though the desire remains evident in his eyes. "We can take this as slow as you need."

"I don't want slow," I admit, emboldened by his response. "I want you. I have since that first night in the storm, maybe even before that. I just wasn't ready to admit it."

A sound rumbles from deep in his chest, somewhere between a groan and a growl. "You're sure?"

"Completely." I reach for my buttons again. "I trust you, Jax."

Trust. Such a simple word for such a complex concept. I've spent three days evaluating whether his program deserves trust. Now I'm deciding if the man himself does.

This time, he doesn't stop me as I unbutton my shirt, exposing my plain cotton bra to his gaze. I fight the urge to cover myself, vulnerable under his intense focus.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing the edge of the fabric with one calloused finger. "So fucking beautiful."