“Maybe. Maybe not,” she says, her tone playful. “But I’m starting to.”
Her words settle between us, heavy with meaning, and I don’t know how to respond. Instead, I focus on the road, the hum of the engine filling the silence.
Chapter Five
Juniper
“Watch your step,” Flint mutters, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
I glance up from the uneven trail, rolling my eyes. “You’ve said that ten times in the last half hour. I get it—don’t trip, don’t fall, don’t die.”
He turns, and even in the dappled sunlight, his scowl is as dark as a storm cloud. “Wouldn’t have to say it if you didn’t look like you were one rock away from breaking your neck.”
I plant my hands on my hips, glaring up at him. “I’m perfectly capable of walking without a babysitter.”
His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. “Sure you are, city girl.”
There it is again.City girl.Like a nickname he knows will rile me up.
“Keep calling me that, and I’ll start calling you Grizzly Adams with a chainsaw,” I shoot back, unable to resist.
His smirk wins the battle, curving slow and smug. “Better than a city girl who thinks hiking boots are a fashion statement.”
My mouth opens, ready to snap back, but the way he’s looking at me stops the words in my throat. His dark eyesgleam with amusement, but there’s something else there too—something that makes my stomach flip.
I look away, breaking the moment before it gets too intense. “You could try being nice, you know. It wouldn’t kill you.”
“Nice doesn’t keep people alive out here.”
The bluntness of his reply catches me off guard. I glance back at him, and for a split second, I see past the gruff exterior. There’s something in his expression—a flicker of something haunted—that makes me wonder what he’s seen, what he’s carried.
But then he turns, continuing down the trail like the conversation never happened.
We stop at a clearing near the river, the sound of rushing water filling the space between us. I drop my backpack, my shoulders aching from carrying all my gear.
“Break time?” I ask, plopping down on a flat rock.
Flint nods, crouching to refill his canteen in the river. His movements are precise, methodical, and I can’t help but watch the way his shoulders flex under his T-shirt.
“You do this often?” I ask, more to fill the silence than anything else.
“Do what?” he replies without looking up.
“Guide helpless city girls through the wilderness,” I tease.
His gaze flicks to mine, and there’s a spark of humor in his eyes. “Nope. You’re my first.”
I grin, leaning back on my hands. “Lucky me.”
He straightens, shaking the excess water from his canteen. “That’s one word for it.”
“Come on,” I press, leaning forward. “You’re telling me no one’s ever asked for your help before? You’re, like, the unofficial mountain guardian of Devil’s Peak.”
He snorts. “Most people around here know how to handle themselves.”
“Well, I think you secretly like it,” I say, my tone playful. “Being needed. Being the gruff protector.”
He steps closer, towering over me, and the air shifts. His gaze pins me in place, dark and unreadable.
