Page 9 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man (Forbidden In Fall Mountain Man #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

JAX

Morning light filters through the cabin windows, casting golden patterns across Riley's sleeping face. I've been awake for an hour, just watching her. The steady rise and fall of her chest. The way her hair spills across my pillow like spilled ink. The slight part of her lips as she breathes.

I should be up already. The kids will need direction for the day's activities. Mason is coming for their academic session. There's a supply run to town I need to make.

But I can't bring myself to leave this bed. To leave her.

Last night changed something fundamental between us. Taking her innocence carries a weight I didn't anticipate. Not guilt. Responsibility. She gave me something precious, irreplaceable. The trust behind that gift floors me.

She stirs, eyelids fluttering before opening to reveal those warm brown eyes that see too much. For a moment, confusion clouds her face. Then recognition dawns, followed by a smile that hits me square in the chest.

"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

"Morning." I brush a strand of hair from her face, marveling at its silken texture. "Sleep okay?"

"Better than okay." She stretches, the sheet slipping to reveal the curve of her breast. "What time is it?"

"Early. Not quite seven."

"Shouldn't you be running your program?" She props herself up on one elbow, suddenly concerned. "The teens must be waiting."

"Jesse knows morning protocol. They're fine." I trace the line of her collarbone with one finger. "I wanted to be here when you woke up."

A blush colors her cheeks. "That's... thoughtful."

"Selfish," I correct her. "I wanted to see that look on your face when you remembered where you were. Who you were with."

Her blush deepens, but she doesn't look away. "And what look was that?"

"Satisfaction." I cup her cheek. "Suits you."

She leans into my touch, eyes drifting closed momentarily. When they open again, there's a vulnerability there that makes my chest tight.

"No regrets?" I ask, needing to hear it.

"None." She covers my hand with her own. "You?"

"Only that it took three days to get here." I lean in to press my lips to hers, a gentle good morning kiss that quickly deepens into something more urgent.

Her arms wrap around my neck, body arching toward mine with newfound confidence. Last night's hesitancy has evolved into enthusiastic participation. She learns quickly, my Riley, in this as in everything.

When we finally break apart, breathing hard, I rest my forehead against hers. "We keep this up, we won't leave this cabin all day."

"Would that be so terrible?" Her hands trace patterns on my chest, exploring with innocent curiosity that drives me wild.

"The kids would notice." I capture her wandering hands, pressing a kiss to each palm. "And you have a report to write."

Her expression sobers. "Yes. The report." She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "I should get started on that."

"After breakfast," I insist, sliding out of bed and pulling on my jeans. "Can't have you working on an empty stomach."

While she showers, I cook a simple meal of eggs and toast. Domestic activities I rarely bother with when it's just me. Having her here changes everything, makes me want to provide in ways I'd forgotten I could.

She emerges wearing yesterday's clothes, hair damp and face scrubbed clean of any makeup she might have worn. The natural beauty of her takes my breath away.

"That smells amazing," she says, approaching the small kitchen area.

"Nothing fancy." I slide a plate toward her. "But it'll fuel that big brain of yours."

She smiles, accepting the plate and the mug of coffee I offer. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, stealing glances at each other like teenagers.

"I need to check on the kids," I say finally, reluctantly. "Make sure they're on track with morning chores."

"Of course." She nods, understanding. "I should get dressed properly and start organizing my notes."

"Use my office as long as you need." I carry our plates to the sink. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

Before leaving, I pull her close for one more kiss, intending it to be brief. But she melts against me, and suddenly I'm deepening the contact, hands sliding down to cup her ass through the thin material of her borrowed sweatpants.

"One hour," I murmur against her lips. "Don't go anywhere."

"I'll be here," she promises.

The words shouldn't mean as much as they do.

Outside, the morning is crisp and clear, a perfect Nevada autumn day. The bunkhouse buzzes with activity when I enter. Beds made with military precision, gear organized, teenagers moving with purpose rather than the sullen shuffling of three days ago.

"Morning, Mr. Reeves," Jesse calls, clipboard in hand. "Everyone's completed morning check and ready for assignment."

I scan the room, noting the transformation not just in the space but in the kids themselves. Backs straighter. Eyes clearer. Purpose evident in their movements.

"Good work," I tell them. "Today we're focusing on team challenges. Build on what you've learned individually to solve problems as a group."

I outline the day's activities, answering questions and assigning roles. Throughout, I catch knowing looks exchanged between Mia and Tyler. Word has clearly spread about Riley staying in my cabin overnight.

"Something to share with the group, Mia?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No, sir." She attempts to look innocent and fails spectacularly. "Just excited about team challenges."

"Uh-huh." I let it slide. "Equipment shed in twenty minutes. Full gear check before we start."

As the teens disperse to prepare, Jesse hangs back. "Ms. Chaffeur still evaluating the program?"

The question carries subtext even a seventeen-year-old can't disguise.

"Ms. Chaffeur is completing her report," I answer neutrally. "She'll be with us a few more days."

Jesse nods, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Cool. She's pretty okay for a social worker."

"High praise," I note dryly.

"Just saying." He shrugs. "She actually listens. Most of them just check boxes."

The observation mirrors my own thoughts from days ago. Riley does listen. Really listens, not just waits for her turn to speak. It's part of what drew me to her despite our professional antagonism.

I leave Jesse to finish organizing the group and head to the supply shed, taking inventory of what we'll need for today's exercises. My mind keeps drifting back to Riley. To the way she felt beneath me. The sounds she made. The trust in her eyes when she gave herself to me completely.

This isn't just attraction anymore. That I could handle. This is something deeper, more dangerous. Something I haven't felt in longer than I care to remember.

Mason's truck pulls up as I'm loading equipment onto the ATV. The therapist hops out, coffee thermos in hand as always.

"Morning, Jax." He approaches with his easy stride. "How's our newest group progressing?"

"Faster than expected." I secure a coil of rope to the rack. "Jesse's showing real leadership. Even Kevin's finding his place."

"And our social services evaluator?" Mason sips his coffee, eyes knowing over the rim. "How's that situation?"

I straighten, giving him a level look. "What situation?"

"Small program. Small town." He shrugs. "Word travels when an evaluator extends her stay for non-professional reasons."

"You writing a gossip column now?" I continue loading gear, avoiding his gaze.

"Just checking you know what you're doing." His tone shifts from teasing to serious. "This program means a lot to a lot of kids, Jax."

The implication is clear. If Riley's report goes south, kids lose opportunities. Kids like the six currently preparing for today's lesson. Kids like the dozens who've passed through these woods and emerged stronger.

"She sees the value in what we do," I say finally. "The report will reflect that."

"You sure your personal involvement isn't clouding your judgment?" Mason asks quietly.

The question hits a nerve. "She's not like that."

"Everyone has obligations. Superiors. Career considerations."

"I know." I secure the last piece of equipment with more force than necessary. "I'm not an idiot, Mason."

"Never said you were." He raises a placating hand. "Just making sure you're thinking with the right head."

"Go teach some algebra," I growl, no real heat behind it.

He laughs, heading toward the mess cabin where academic sessions take place. "See you at lunch."

His words echo in my mind as I finish preparations. Am I being naive? Trusting Riley based on physical connection rather than evidence? But that's not all this is. I've seen her with the kids. Watched her truly evaluate the program on its merits rather than its paperwork.

Still, Mason's concern isn't unfounded. This program survives on judicial discretion and documented results. One negative report could end everything we've built.

I'm still mulling this over when I return to the admin cabin. Inside, Riley sits at my desk, tablet in hand, brow furrowed in concentration. She's so engrossed, she doesn't notice me until I close the door.

"Productive hour?" she asks, looking up with a smile that eases my concerns.

"Kids are prepped for team challenges. Mason's here for academics." I cross to her, unable to resist pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "How's the report coming?"

"Complicated." She gestures to her notes. "The program violates at least seventeen regulatory standards. But the outcomes are undeniable."

"So what happens now?" I pull up a chair beside her.

"I document both." She turns to face me fully. "List the violations alongside recommended modifications. Note the successful outcomes and methodologies. Let the department decide how to proceed."

"Sounds reasonable." I study her face, searching for any sign of the career-driven bureaucrat I first met. "Will your supervisor see it that way?"

She hesitates, confirming my suspicions. "Margaret wants grounds for termination. She made that clear."