Page 11 of Wild About the Mountain Guide (Maplewood Springs #2)

Peyton

Knox stirs beside me. “Hey, you. You ready for this?”

“Ask me in twelve hours,” I tell him.

He chuckles. “Fair enough. But you’re going to do great. The others too.”

“Thanks, I hope so. I’m glad you’re going to be there to guide us to the top safely.”

“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice sounding like gravel. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Could he be any more attractive than he is now, with his tousled hair and his protective streak shining through?

Outside, headlamps are already flickering to life as everyone gets moving.

The pre-dawn air is shockingly cold, probably in the low thirties, and I’m grateful for every layer Knox makes us wear.

We eat a quick breakfast of energy bars and instant coffee, but only because we’re forced to.

We’re way too nervous to be hungry. Knox won’t hear any of it, though.

We need fuel, and only food can provide that, he instructs us.

We all shoulder our packs and turn to Knox. “Remember, slow and steady. Save your energy for the summit push.”

“I’m so excited,” Harmony says as she walks up the summit trail beside me.

“Me too, but if I’m being honest, I’m consumed by nerves.”

She smiles at me. “Babe, me too, but we’re not going to let some nerves get the best of us, right?”

“Right,” I tell her, and I mean it.

I can and will do this. I didn’t come this far to give up now.

The first few hours pass in a blur of switchbacks through the dark forest. My headlamp beam bounces ahead of me, illuminating enough trail to keep me from tripping over rocks and roots.

As the sky starts to lighten, we emerge above tree line into a landscape that takes my breath away.

Rolling alpine tundra stretches in every direction, dotted with tiny wildflowers that seem impossible at this elevation.

And above us, Mount Hartley’s summit rises like something out of a fantasy, all granite and snow and impossible steepness.

“Wow,” I breathe. “This is breathtaking.”

“And we’re only halfway there,” Knox says with a grin. “There are even better views coming up, believe it or not.”

The next few hours are the hardest I’ve ever experienced. The trail becomes a series of boulder scrambles, snowy patches, and narrow ledges carved into sheer rock faces. The air gets thinner with every step, and I find myself stopping more frequently to catch my breath.

“You okay?” Knox asks during one of our breaks.

“Just processing the fact that I’m literally climbing a mountain. Like, with my actual body, not in some virtual reality simulation,” I pant.

He smiles as he hands me his water bottle. “Drink up. And for the record, you’re doing amazing.”

By the time we reach the final approach to the summit, I’m running on pure determination and adrenaline. The last five hundred feet are straight up granite slabs, following cairns and painted markers that seem to lead directly into the sky.

My legs are shaking. My lungs are burning.

But I keep putting one foot in front of the other because Knox is ahead of me, occasionally looking back with encouraging nods.

And because somewhere along the way, this stopped being about proving something to Melissa or anyone else.

This became about proving something to myself.

“Peyton.” Knox’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Look up.”

I raise my head, and there it is. The summit.

A flat area, maybe twenty feet wide, with a metal survey marker and a small cairn.

After six days of hiking, a two-thirty in the morning wake-up call, and five hours of the most challenging physical effort of my life, I’m about to stand on top of a mountain.

The last few steps feel surreal, like I’m floating. And then suddenly, I’m there. On the summit of Mount Hartley, eight thousand one hundred and fifty feet above sea level, with the entire world spread out below me.

The view is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

Mountains stretch to every horizon, layer upon layer of peaks fading into the distance.

To the south, I can see the valley where we started this journey a week ago.

To the north are snow-capped peaks that look like they belong in Alaska.

The sky is so blue that it almost hurts to look at it, and the stillness is unreal.

It’s quiet except for the whisper of the wind blowing across stone.

I’ve never felt so small and so enormous at the same time.

“I can’t believe I did this,” I say, my voice shaky with emotion. “I can’t believe I actually did this.”

Knox appears beside me, grinning like he’s as proud of me as I am. “Believe it, Peyton. You did it. You earned every step.”

That’s when the full weight of what I’ve accomplished hits me. A little over a week ago, I was nothing but a desk-bound author with writer’s block who got winded climbing three flights of stairs. Today, I’m standing on top of a mountain I climbed with my own two feet!

Triumph, joy, pride, and gratitude crash over me.

Without thinking, without planning, without any of the careful consideration I usually apply to every decision in my life, I throw my arms around Knox.

His breath catches, and I lean in, kissing him.

For a split second, he goes completely still, and I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.

But then his arms come around me, and he’s kissing me back with a passion that makes my legs shake all over again.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and it’s not from the altitude.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” he cuts me off, his voice rough. “Not for that. Never for that.”

“Good, because I’ve been wanting to do that since day two.”

“Just day two?” He grins.

I laugh and shut him up with another kiss.

The others reach the summit then, and the moment breaks into celebration and photo-taking and Harmony leaving her rose quartz and sage in the cairn.

But even as I’m posing for pictures and listening to Knox explain the geography spread out below us, all I can concentrate on is him.

On the way he keeps glancing at me when he thinks I’m not looking.

On the way his hand brushes mine when he hands me a granola bar.

On the way everything between us has shifted with one perfect kiss.

“Group photo!” Christine calls out.

We all squeeze together around the summit marker. Knox ends up behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders, the warmth of his fingers even through our thick layers of fabric.

After we’ve exhausted every possible photo combination, Knox checks his watch. “Time to start heading down. Weather looks good for now, but that can change fast.”

The descent is its own kind of challenge. My quads are screaming by the time we drop below the tree line, and I’m pretty sure I’ll feel every step of this hike for the next couple of weeks.

But I don’t care. I climbed a mountain. I kissed Knox. Kissed him! And judging by the way he’s been looking at me all afternoon, he’s happy I did.

We make camp at the same spot where we spent last night, and as the sun sets behind the peaks we conquered today, I take a moment to sit by the lake and think.

Knox settles beside me on the boulder, close enough that our shoulders touch.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Tired. Sore. Exhilarated. Completely overwhelmed.” I lean against his shoulder without thinking about it. “Like I’ve become a completely different person in the span of a week.”

“I don’t think you’re different. Just more yourself than you were before.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Mountain Guide?”

He nods, holding my gaze. “That’s my personal opinion.”

My pulse quickens. Before I can overthink it, before I can worry about what’s sensible, I lean in and crash my lips against his. Our kiss is just as good as the first one, if not better.

When we break apart this time, he locks eyes with me. “Peyton, I…”

“I know,” I whisper. “This is complicated. I live in the city, you live here. I know all the reasons this doesn’t make sense.”

“But?”

“But I’m falling for you,” I tell him. “And I think, I hope, you’re falling for me too.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kisses me again, and I almost faint from the intensity of his lips on mine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I’m falling head over heels for you.”