I push off the boulder, taking a few steps closer, my movements careful and measured. “Hey, stop moving,” I command, my voice dropping, more serious now. “You’re only going to make it worse. Take a deep breath. Look at me.”
She hesitates, and I see the battle playing out in her eyes—her pride versus the raw fear that’s twisting her up. But then she shifts her gaze, dragging it away from the drop and fixing it on me. Her eyes are wide, and for a second, I feel a punch of something I don’t want to name. She’s scared, but beneath it, there’s that fire she tries so hard to hide.
“That’s it,” I murmur, keeping my voice steady. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. Move your right foot down about six inches—there’s a small ridge. You can feel for it with your boot. I’ve got you if anything happens, okay?”
She bites her lip, glancing at the spot I mentioned, then back at me. There’s a flicker of trust there, just enough to make her shift her weight. For a moment, my breath catches, but she finds the ridge, her boot settling against it. I resist the urge to reach out and steady her myself, forcing my hands to stay at my sides.
“Good. Now, take your left hand and slide it down to where the rock juts out. Yeah, right there. You’ve got this.” I move closer, close enough that I could catch her if she slips. My knee throbs with the strain, but I don’t care. I keep my focus on her, on the tremor in her limbs and the sharp rise and fall of her chest.
She’s breathing hard, but she follows my instructions, inching her way back toward solid ground. When she’s finally close enough, I reach out, catching her arm with a firm grip, and pull her the rest of the way to safety. She stumbles against me, her body pressing into mine, and for a second, the world goes quiet.
She’s warm, soft, all curves and sharp breaths, and I can feel her heart pounding through the thin fabric of her blouse. The scent of her wraps around me, wildflowers and something sweeter, mingling with the mountain air. It slams into me, unexpected and intense, and I catch myself leaning into it before I pull back, dropping her arm like it’s burned me.
She jerks away, brushing off her skirt and trying to regain some semblance of dignity. Her cheeks are flushed, and she avoids my gaze, but there’s a stubborn set to her jaw that makes me want to smile. “I could have handled it,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest like she’s trying to put a barrier between us.
I raise an eyebrow, letting my smirk curl up one corner of my mouth. “Yeah, sure you could’ve. That’s why you were glued to the rock like a cat in a tree.”
She shoots me a glare, but it’s all bark, no bite. Instead, she just looks... embarrassed. Vulnerable in a way I didn’t expect from her. It tugs at something in me I don’t have a name for, something that makes me soften despite myself.
“Look, next time you’re going to try scaling cliffs, you should probably learn a few basics first. Might keep you from ending up in a situation like this,” I say, my tone rougher than I mean it to be.
Her shoulders stiffen, and she glances at me, her eyes narrowing. “And what, you think you’re the one to teach me?” She tries to sound dismissive, like she’s brushing me off, but I catch the thread of uncertainty in her voice.
I shrug, trying to play it cool even though the idea of spending more time with her twists something in my chest. “Why not? I’ve got time, and you clearly need help. Consider it my good deed for the day.”
She hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her camera. I can see the wheels turning in her head, the way she’s weighing her pride against the need to not make a fool of herself again. Finally, she sighs, her shoulders dropping a fraction. “Fine. One lesson. But don’t think this means I’m going to owe you anything.”
I chuckle, stepping back with a lazy confidence I know will irritate her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess. Just try not to fall on your face next time.”
She shoots me a look that could melt ice, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and it hits me in a way I’m not prepared for. As she brushes past me, heading back down the trail, I watch her go, my gaze tracking the sway of her hips even as I tell myself I don’t care.
But the truth is, maybe this city girl is more interesting than I thought. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be the distraction I need from the restless ache that’s been gnawing at me since I fell off that damn cliff.
As the wind picks up, carrying the scent of the river and the promise of a storm, I can’t help but think that I’m looking forward to whatever comes next.
Chapter Three
Lila
The sun burns high above the jagged cliffs of Devil’s Peak, its light searing against the craggy rocks and casting shadows that stretch like fingers over the mountain’s rough terrain. I stand at the base of a beginner’s climbing route that begins at the edge of the Devil’s Peak Lodge property. I tug at the straps of my new harness, trying to figure out how to adjust it. My floral dresses and skirts are back at the lodge, replaced with fitted hiking pants and a snug athletic top that clings to my curves. Even dressed like this, I feel out of place here—too polished, too careful for the rugged wildness of the Rockies.
I glance up at the rock face, my stomach twisting with a mix of determination and nerves. I won’t let this man see me falter. He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches me fumble with the harness. The man is maddening, with his infuriating confidence and the way he seems to see right through me. I try to ignore him, focusing instead on the buckles in front of me, but his presence looms large, filling the space between us.
“You know, princess, that harness won’t do much good if it’s twisted like that.” His voice is all gravel and amusement, cuttingthrough the quiet of the mountain. He doesn’t even try to hide his laughter.
I grit my teeth, refusing to look at him. “I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of figuring this out myself. And stop calling me princess.” The words come out sharper than I intend, but my hands betray me, trembling as they fumble with the straps.
“What should I call you then?” His grin deepens.
“Lila,” I say simply.
A low chuckle escapes him. He takes a step closer, boots crunching on the gravel, until his shadow falls over me. He doesn’t ask for permission as he reaches out, fingers brushing against mine, guiding the harness into place.
“Nice to meet you, Lila. Name’s Holt,” he murmurs, leaning in close enough that his breath warms my ear. His hands move with an easy confidence, tightening the harness around my hips, pulling the straps until they’re snug against my body.
I go still, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of his touch. His fingers linger, brushing over the curve of my waist, and my breath catches in my throat. I hate that my skin prickles under his hands, heat flooding my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see me flustered.
Holt’s eyes meet mine, his smirk edging into something more predatory, and I square my shoulders, tilting my chin up defiantly.
