Page 4 of Wild About the Mountain Guide (Maplewood Springs #2)

Knox

When we reach the designated camping spot at Eagle’s Rest, I do a quick headcount.

Everyone’s still vertical, no one’s bleeding, no one has been eaten by wildlife, and somehow, Brandon didn’t walk off a cliff.

The guy almost stepped into thin air about a mile back because he was too busy cross-referencing his GPS with my topographical map to notice the trail curved away from the ledge.

I swear he doesn’t trust me to know where I’m going, even though he paid good money so I could come along as his mountain guide.

“All right, folks,” I announce, dropping my pack near a flat area surrounded by towering pines. “Time to set up camp.”

The campsite is perfect. Sheltered from wind, close to a water source, and far enough from any game trails to keep us from hosting unwanted dinner guests.

I’ve been bringing groups here for three years, and it never gets old.

The mountain views are spectacular, and something about sleeping under these stars either converts city folks to outdoor life or sends them running back to civilization.

Tonight should tell me which category this group falls into.

I turn to survey my chances and immediately wish I’d brought popcorn for the entertainment value.

Brandon has already spread out what appears to be an instruction manual the size of a small novel and is examining his tent like it’s a piece of advanced aerospace technology. Meanwhile, Alex and Alexandra are starting to lose their patience with each other.

“Honey, I think pole A goes into grommet B,” Alexandra says.

“But the diagram shows pole B connecting to anchor point C first,” Alex replies with what sounds like his last shred of patience.

Christine is methodically laying out her gear with military precision. She’ll probably have her tent up before Brandon finishes reading the introduction to his manual.

Harmony is consulting her crystals for the best tent placement.

“I need to align with the earth’s energy flow before setting up camp,” she explains to no one in particular, holding up what looks like a chunk of amethyst. “This spot has very grounding vibrations, but I want to make sure there’s not a better one. ”

And then there’s Peyton. She’s standing next to her tent bag like it might contain a live snake.

“You doing okay over there?” I call out.

“I’m great!” she calls back a little too quickly. “Just… familiarizing myself with the equipment.”

I watch as she pulls out the tent and the manual, and stares at it like it’s written in ancient hieroglyphics. Then she picks up a tent pole, examines it from several angles, and sets it down again.

“Need some help?” I offer, walking over.

“I think I’ve got it. How hard can it be?”

I crouch down next to her gear. “Mind if I give you a quick tutorial?”

She glances around at the others. Alex and Alexandra are still debating pole configurations, Brandon still hasn’t looked up from his manual, and Harmony is now smudging her chosen spot with sage. I frown. How many of those sticks did she bring with her?

The smoke drifts toward Peyton. She blinks and waves a hand in front of her face, eyes watering.

“Jealous of that sage stick, are we?”

“That tent site’s been spiritually cleansed at least three times already. Any more and Harmony might start levitating,” she says with a grin. “I think a tutorial will be better for me than using sage.”

I bite back a smile. I love how Peyton sees the humor in everything. Usually, people aren’t as cheerful by the end of the first day. Most of them are tired, hungry, and irritated. But Peyton doesn’t seem fazed one bit, even though she didn’t even want to be here in the first place. It’s admirable.

I show her how to lay out the tent footprint, connect the poles, and thread them through the sleeves.

I watch her follow my tent instructions, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lines everything up.

When she successfully clips the last corner and stands back to admire her work, the proud smile on her face does something to my insides.

It’s not just that she’s beautiful, though she definitely is. It’s the way she refuses to give up.

“There,” I say as we step back to admire her handiwork. “Not bad.”

She beams. “It’s actually standing up.”

“And it’ll probably stay that way all night.”

“Probably?”

“I’m just kidding,” I say with a wink.

“I hope so. If it collapses on me during the night, I’ll make a victim out of you in my next thriller.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

She shrugs. “Depends on how loud you snore.”

“Well, I do snore. So you’re planning revenge for that already, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

I laugh as I walk away to gather firewood. By the time everyone’s tent is up, the sun is starting to dip behind the peaks, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that no camera ever quite captures right. I start a fire and heat water for dinner while the group settles into camp chairs.

“This is incredible,” Peyton says, staring up at the mountains. “I mean, I’ve seen the brochure pictures, but this is something else entirely.”

“Pictures don’t do it justice,” I agree, adding dehydrated chili to the pot. “Wait until you see the stars tonight. No light pollution up here.”

“That sounds amazing. There’s always light pollution in the city,” she says. “Anyway, can I help with anything?”

“You could hand me some of those medium-sized sticks,” I say, pointing to the pile of firewood I gathered earlier. “We’ll need to keep feeding the fire if we want it to last.”

She crouches next to me, and I catch a whiff of her shampoo mixed with pine needles and wood smoke.

It’s enough to have my thoughts short-circuit for a moment.

I don’t know what it is, but every time I’m around Peyton, my heart rate seems to increase.

It’s not just attraction. It’s more than that.

Like I want to impress her. Like I want her to see me for who I really am. Like I never want this week to end.

“Thanks for being patient with me today. I know I’m probably not your typical client,” she says as she hands me another stick.

“What’s a typical client?”

She snorts. “Someone who doesn’t need a pep talk to cross a stream?”

“You’d be surprised. Last month, I had a guy who brought a hair dryer. To the mountains. He was convinced there’d be electrical outlets at the campsites.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Scout’s honor. He also packed dress shoes for hiking because he wanted to look ‘put-together’ in his Instagram photos.”

She’s laughing loudly now, the sound mixing with the crackle of the fire and the distant call of an owl, and my heart skips another beat.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not the worst client you’ve had,” she says.

I grin. “Not even close.”

Dinner is surprisingly successful. The chili tastes good, and nobody complains about eating from camping bowls.

Once everyone has had second helpings, they do the dishes and talk and laugh like they’ve known each other for ages. This group is honestly starting to grow on me. It’s the best one I’ve been assigned in a long time.

After the clean dishes are packed away, I call them all to the campfire, and Christine immediately suggests telling some stories.

“I’ve got some great hiking stories,” Brandon offers, pulling out a thick notebook. “Did you know that the Appalachian Trail has over three thousand documented cases of—”

“How about something spookier?” Christine interrupts. “We’re sitting around a campfire in the middle of nowhere. Seems like the perfect time for ghost stories instead of historical facts. No offense, Brandon.”

“Oh, I love ghost stories!” Harmony claps her hands. “They’re so spiritually cleansing. All that release of negative energy is exciting.”

“I’m not sure that’s how ghost stories work,” Alexandra says, looking terrified already. “Those kinds of stories can haunt your dreams if you’re not careful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, Sugarplum,” Alex says, pulling his girlfriend closer to him.

“Anyone got a good one?” I ask.

“Peyton, you should tell one,” Harmony says. “You write thrillers, so if anyone can tell a spooky story, it’s you.”

“I don’t know,” Peyton says, her cheeks turning pink.

“Do it,” Christine encourages. “Give us something properly terrifying.”

Peyton looks around the circle, firelight dancing across her face. “All right. But don’t blame me if you can’t sleep tonight.”

She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “This happened to a friend of a friend, so you know it’s true.”

Everyone leans forward, too, eager to hear more. Even Brandon puts down his notebook.

“She was hiking alone, which I know, Knox, is a terrible idea, but she was experienced, and it was a trail she’d done dozens of times.

About five miles in, she heard footsteps behind her.

Not unusual, right? She thought the footsteps belonged to other hikers.

Except every time she turned around, no one was there. ”

The fire pops, sending sparks up into the dark sky. Alexandra looks terrified. I grin. I’m giving it five more minutes before she’s climbing onto Alex’s lap.

“She kept hiking, figuring she was being paranoid. But the footsteps kept matching her pace exactly. Step for step. When she sped up, they sped up. When she slowed down, they slowed down. Finally, she decided to step off the trail and let whoever it was pass by.”

Peyton pauses, letting the silence stretch. The only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees. I’m amazed at how invested in the story she’s making us feel. I’m starting to see why Peyton is Reese’s favorite author. She’s an excellent storyteller.

“She waited. And waited. But no one came. The footsteps stopped the moment she stepped off the trail. She was convincing herself she’d imagined the whole thing when she heard something that made her blood freeze.”

“What?” Harmony whispers.

“Her own voice. Calling her name. From somewhere deeper in the woods.”

Christine actually shivers. “Nope. I don’t like where this is going.”

“She knew she should run. Every instinct told her to return to her car and never look back. But the voice sounded so sad. So lost. Like whoever it was needed help.” Peyton’s eyes reflect the firelight as she looks around the circle. “So she followed it.”

“Bad choice,” I mutter, as caught up in the story as everyone else.

“The voice led her deeper into the woods, always calling her name. And then, in a clearing she’d never seen before despite hiking this trail for years, she found them.”

“Them?” Brandon squeaks.

“Seven other hikers. All sitting in a perfect circle, like we are now. All staring straight ahead. And when she called out to them, when she asked if they were okay…” Peyton’s voice drops to barely a whisper.

“They all turned to look at her at exactly the same time. And they all had buttons for eyes.”

Harmony lets out a small shriek. Alexandra clutches Alex, who looks equally pale. Even Christine looks unsettled.

“What happened to her?” I ask.

Peyton leans back with a satisfied smile and shrugs.

“No one knows. They found her car at the trailhead three days later, but she was never seen again. Some people say that if you hike that trail alone, you can still hear her voice calling from the woods. And if you’re really unlucky…

” She pauses dramatically. “You might just find that clearing.”

The fire crackles and pops, making everyone jump.

“I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight,” Harmony says, clutching her crystals like they might save her.

“It’s just a story,” Christine says, though she doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“A really good story,” I admit. “You had us all hanging on every word.”

Peyton smiles. “Occupational hazard. I spend my days thinking up ways to terrify people.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Christine says. “I’m going to be checking my tent for button-eyed hikers all night.”

“Me too,” Brandon says and yawns. “I’m calling it a night, though. I’m exhausted.”

The rest soon follow. I’m tired, too, but I linger by the dying fire with Peyton, not wanting to leave her side.

“That really was a great story,” I tell her. “Where’d you come up with it?”

“Professional secret,” she says with a wink. “Actually, I just combined a bunch of classic urban legend elements. Missing hikers, voices in the woods… Throw them together with good timing and atmosphere, and people’s imaginations do the rest.”

“You’re good at this.”

“At scaring people?”

“At storytelling. And other things. You’ve surprised me today, Thriller Girl.”

“How so?”

I should probably keep this professional, stick to guide-appropriate compliments about her hiking skills, but something about the stars above us and the mountain air makes me more honest than usual.

“I expected you to struggle more. To complain. But you adapted and figured things out. Even when you were scared.”

“I was terrified,” she admits. “I’m still terrified, actually. But also…” She looks up at the stars. “I’m starting to understand why people do this. Something about being out here makes everything out there seem smaller. Less important.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly why I love this so much too.”

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, poking at the dying embers with a stick.

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever get lonely up here? I mean, it’s beautiful, but it’s so isolated.”

“Actually, I prefer the solitude most of the time. In town, there’s always someone who needs something, always noise and other complications.

Out here, there’s only pureness and wilderness.

No pretense, no small talk, no one expecting you to be anything other than what you are.

” I glance at her across the flames. “What about you? Writing’s pretty solitary too. ”

She nods. “I used to think I preferred it that way. Keep my head down and keep to myself.”

“Used to think?”

“This week is making me reconsider a lot of things, even though we’ve only just started. Actually, you should put that in the brochure. Life-changing from the first day .” She laughs, and a jolt zips through me like I touched a live wire.

Peyton yawns, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I should probably get some sleep.”

“An entire day outside tends to be exhausting.”

“You’re not tired?”

“I am, but I’ll be keeping watch for now.”

“Really?”

“Standard procedure. Someone needs to keep an eye out until the fire’s completely out. The last thing we need is a forest fire, right?”

She stands and brushes off her pants. “Well, if you see any button-eyed hikers, scream and we’ll all come and help you, okay?”

“Deal.”

She heads toward her tent, then turns back. “Good night, Knox. I had a great first day, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Peyton disappears into her tent, leaving me alone with the dying fire and the realization that this week might be more complicated than I thought. Because the truth is, I didn’t look forward to this week’s retreat at all, but now, I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.

It’s all because of Peyton.

And that’s a problem I wasn’t expecting.