His eyes narrow, and the playful edge is gone, replaced by something more serious, more dangerous. “You want a guide? Fine. But I’m not making this easy for you.”
I arch a brow, stepping even closer, until I can feel the prickling heat of his body on my skin. “Good. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Slate holds my gaze for a beat longer, something dark and heated passing between us, before he turns abruptly, stalking towards the back room to grab his gear. The air seems to deflatewith his departure, the charged energy between us leaving a tense, hollow space behind.
His brothers chuckle, and I hear Zane mutter, “This is gonna be fun to watch.”
I ignore them, letting out a shaky breath, my pulse still racing. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I watch Slate disappear into the back room, muscles bunching under his shirt with each step.
He’s infuriating. Arrogant. And he looks so damn good, it makes my head spin. I hate that he can still get under my skin, still make me feel like this. Like I’m right back where we left off, teetering on the edge of something that’s always felt too wild, too consuming.
I shake my head, trying to regain some sense of control. This isn’t about the past. It’s about the job. It’s about proving that I don’t need him. That I never did.
But as Slate emerges, slinging a heavy pack over his shoulder, his eyes finding mine with that same, smoldering intensity, I know I’m lying to myself. Because some part of me is still that girl who fell for him all those years ago, who never quite stopped wondering what could have been.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of me that’s hoping this time, we’ll finally find out.
Chapter Two
Slate
I lean against the mantle, feeling the heat from the fire licking up my back, but the warmth doesn’t reach the chill settling in my chest. Emma stands a few feet away, arms wrapped tight around that damn camera bag like it’s a shield. The lodge is quiet, just the crackle of flames and the muffled sound of snow hitting the windowpanes. Outside, darkness is falling fast, the sun dipping behind Devil’s Peak, shadows stretching long across the snow-covered twin peaks, aptly named The Orphans, in the distance. Inside, it’s a different kind of dark—thick, tense, the kind that wraps around you until it’s hard to breathe.
I watch her, waiting, and she finally looks up, meeting my gaze. Her mouth twists into a tight, forced smile, but I see right through it. It’s been years, but she’s still got that same fire in her eyes. And hell, if it doesn’t twist something deep inside me.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I keep my voice casual, but there’s an edge to it I don’t bother hiding. “You still running off to take pictures of grizzlies, Emma? Or did you finally grow out of chasing danger?”
Her jaw tightens, and there’s a flash of something—defiance, maybe—before she smothers it with a smirk. “National Geographic loves my work. And last time I checked, rescuing stranded tourists wasn’t exactly safe either. How many snowshoers did you have to save last week?”
I shrug, my expression cool, but my grip on the edge of the mantle tightens. “Three. Had to call in reinforcements. The mountains don’t care how much you think you know them, Emma. They’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
She steps closer, closing the distance between us, her eyes blazing. “I can handle myself. I grew up on these trails, Slate. I don’t need you looking out for me.”
The fire pops behind me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat simmering between us. I push off the mantle, moving closer, my voice dropping lower, rougher. “This isn’t about needing me, Emma. It’s about staying alive out there. You know how fast the weather can turn.”
Her chin lifts, her lips curling into a stubborn smile, but I catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You know what? Thanks for the concern, but I don’t need a guide after all. I’ve got this.”
I take another step, and now I’m right in front of her, looking down, the scent of her filling the space between us—something wild, something I’d know anywhere. My voice is barely a whisper, but I know she hears every word. “You really think I’m going to let you march out there alone? After everything?”
Her breath catches, just for a second, and I see the crack in her resolve, the uncertainty she’s trying so damn hard to hide. But then she squares her shoulders, lifting her chin even higher. “I don’t remember asking for your permission, Slate.”
My jaw clenches, frustration burning hotter than the fire behind me. “You always were too damn stubborn for your own good. But I’m not letting you get yourself killed out there.”
She laughs, but it’s short, sharp—no real humor in it. “You think I came back to town to hear your lectures? I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”
She turns on her heel before I can respond, her camera bag bouncing against her hip as she stalks towards the door. The wooden door slams behind her, sending a gust of cold air through the lodge that bites against my face. I watch her go, my jaw tight enough to hurt, my chest a knot of emotions I’ve been trying to bury for too long.
Through the frosted window, I can just make out her silhouette, disappearing into the snow that’s starting to fall heavier, thicker. Her stubbornness is going to get her into trouble—again. And I know I should let her go. Let her do what she’s determined to do.
But I can’t.
“Fine,” I mutter, my voice a low growl in the empty lodge. “You want to play it your way, woman? I’ll play. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
I grab my coat off the back of a chair, shrugging it on with more force than necessary. The fabric stretches tight across my shoulders, the weight grounding me, reminding me what I have to do. I know these mountains like the back of my hand. And I know Emma. She’s not as invincible as she thinks.
I slip out the back door, the cold hitting me like a slap as I step into the night. Snow crunches under my boots, the darkness swallowing me up as I move through the shadows that cling to the edges of the lodge. My breath fogs the air, mixing with the snow swirling around me, and I keep my eyes trained on the path she’s taking, her figure just a shadow in the distance.
She doesn’t know I’m here. And I plan to keep it that way.
