Page 6 of Wild About the Mountain Guide (Maplewood Springs #2)

Knox

I’ve got everyone positioned around the fireplace with their wet gear spread out to dry, trying to ignore the pointed looks from Marcus and his crew.

They’ve claimed the far corner like it’s their personal VIP section, huddled over their maps and making a show of discussing their technical route planning .

Whatever. People like them only see the outdoors as another way to feel superior, when that’s not what the wilderness experience is about at all.

Meanwhile, my group is sharing granola bars and instant coffee, looking like a litter of drowned cats, but laughing.

Peyton sits cross-legged on her still-wet sleeping pad, writing in her journal even though her hands are shaking from the cold. She keeps glancing up at me when she thinks I’m not looking, and every time, I hold her eyes.

It’s turned into a bit of a thing. She looks. I look back. Then she smiles self-consciously and tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s probably nothing. Yet, every time it happens, heat rushes through me, like she’s warming me from the inside out.

That’s not like me. I’ve led dozens of these retreats.

I’ve never cared how someone looks, let alone whether they smiled when they glanced my way.

But with her, I notice. I don’t know if that means something’s building between us, but I do know it doesn’t feel like nothing.

It’s not just us becoming friends. It’s… more.

I tear my gaze away and look at the rest of the group.

Alexandra’s ankle is elevated on Alex’s pack, and he’s fussing over her like she might faint if he stops paying attention for five seconds.

Brandon has somehow managed to find cell service and is checking his weather apps, while Christine efficiently organizes her wet gear into the most logical drying arrangement.

Harmony’s doing something with her crystals that involves a lot of humming and prayer hands.

They’re all completely different, but this group works. Which brings me to what I wanted to talk about this morning before the rain postponed my plans.

“All right, everyone,” I say, getting their attention. “We’re at day two of our Spirit of the Wild retreat, and I’ve spent the last day and a half watching you guys.”

“Should we be worried?” Christine asks.

“Not at all. Here’s the thing. What would a Spirit of the Wild retreat be without actual goals? It’s time we set some intentions for the rest of our week.”

Christine raises an eyebrow. “What kind of intentions? Was this in the welcome email?”

I chuckle. “Yes, it was. And don’t worry, I’m not talking about technical stuff.

These are individual goals that will push you outside your comfort zones.

” I look around the circle, meeting each of their eyes.

“Like Brandon, for instance. You’ve got more outdoor knowledge than most people I guide, but you experience it all through screens and apps.

What if you tried disconnecting from the tech and relied on navigating the old-fashioned way? ”

Brandon looks genuinely panicked. “But my GPS—”

“Still works. You just don’t check it every five minutes. Trust your other senses for a while. They’re more vital than your tech. What if we arrive at a section where you can’t get a signal? You need to be able to navigate without an app.”

I can see him considering it, probably calculating the risk-to-reward ratio in his head.

“What about me?” Harmony asks, crystals still clutched in her hands.

“You’re so connected to the spiritual side of nature that I wonder if you forget there’s a practical side too. Maybe try grounding yourself in the physical world. Learn some wilderness skills instead of channeling the energy.”

She nods slowly. “The earth element. I can work with that.”

“Christine.” I turn to her. “You’re the most prepared person I’ve ever guided. You’ve got contingency plans for contingency plans. But when was the last time you did something because it felt good, not because it was the smart choice?”

She looks startled. “I… well… I…”

“Maybe try saying yes to something impractical this week.”

Alex and Alexandra are huddled together, holding hands and giving me an expectant look.

“You do everything together,” I start, “which is sweet, but you also rely on each other for everything. Alexandra, what happens when Alex isn’t there to carry your pack or hold your umbrella? And Alex, do you even know what your limits are, or are you too busy managing hers?”

They exchange a look and give me a sheepish smile.

“You’re right,” Alex says.

Finally, I look at Peyton, who’s cold, soaked, and wearing a ridiculously big yellow rain jacket. Despite all that, I still find her the most attractive woman I’ve ever met.

“Peyton,” I say, “you spend your life writing about people who take huge risks, face impossible situations, push every boundary. But when was the last time you did something that scared you? Really scared you?”

Her cheeks flush slightly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Are you? Or are you observing from the sidelines, taking notes for your next book and following along because your editor forced you to come?”

Her mouth tightens slightly. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable, but this whole setting goals part of the retreat is part of my job.

Every time I have the goals conversation with a group, they all get a little defensive.

I’m met with resistance because no one wants to change, but in the end, they all go for it.

“Anyway, that’s it for the individual goals,” I say. “But this week is not only about personal growth. It’s about what we can accomplish together. As a group.”

I stand and walk to my pack, pulling out a topographic map. “Mount Hartley,” I say, spreading the map on the ground between us. “Thirty-two hundred feet, and our destination for day six. We’re going to summit it together.”

“All of us?” Alexandra asks, looking down at her wrapped ankle.

“All of us. As a team. Using everything we learn about ourselves, each other, and the wilderness over the next four days.”

Brandon is already studying the map. “The elevation gain looks significant. Weather patterns at that altitude can be unpredictable. Success rates for amateur groups are—”

“Are higher when those groups work together, push their individual limits, and learn to trust each other,” I interrupt gently.

Marcus snorts from the corner. “Mount Hartley? That’s ambitious for a beginner group. Especially with an injured participant. Good luck.”

“Something to say, Marcus?” I ask with an arched brow.

“Just that maybe you should stick to easier goals. More realistic expectations.” His condescending smile is starting to piss me off. “A walk around town might be more suited for you guys. Leave the serious peaks to serious climbers like us.”

I’ve got so much I want to say to him, but I’ve learned from experience that the best way to deal with fools like Marcus is by ignoring them.

“You know what? I’m not letting someone like Marcus look down on us. We are more than capable of summiting Mount Hartley,” Peyton speaks up, giving Marcus the stink-eye.

She says it without hesitation, and for a second, I forget we’re in a shelter full of damp gear and other people. All I see is her. And all I want to do is pull her close and kiss her.

Which is ridiculous. I’ve only just met her. She’s here for a week before she goes back to her real life. To her publisher, her deadlines, her city. None of this is permanent. It’s the setting that’s making me feel like I’m falling for her.

Right?