Page 13 of Rowan: His Exception

Then I head to join the rest of the group, who are already gathering near the trailhead, strangers in expensive gear they probably bought yesterday. I spot Dave from check-in, all easy smiles and confidence, and I head toward him.

He’s safe.

And because he doesn't make my stomach clench with something I don’t like or want to acknowledge.

"Hey," he says, falling into step beside me. "Ready to suffer?"

"Absolutely not."

He laughs, unbothered. "That's the spirit. I got the impression this Rowan guy doesn't mess around. I’ve heard he’s got a reputation."

"A reputation for what? Being an asshole?"

He laughs again. "For being the best at what he does. And the worst." Dave adjusts his backpack, "Survival instructor, former military, apparently did some stuff he can't talk about. You know the type."

Actually, I don't. I've never known his type. My ex-husband was soft…soft hands, soft spine when it came to choosing between me and his mother's opinion. Something Rowan definitely isn’t.

I feel him before I see him, that prickle at the back of my neck that makes me want to turn around and run toward him instead of away. The group stops their chatter as he approaches, all broad shoulders and this don't fuck-with-me energy. He's changed into a dark gray t-shirt that stretches nicely across his broad chest, sleeves pushed up to reveal inked forearms corded with muscle, veins, and scars I want to trace with my fingertips.

He doesn't look at me. Not even once.

“Everyone ready?” he asks, his voice carrying without effort. "As I said before, this isn't a nature walk. Within these five miles, the elevation gain is two thousand feet. And to reiterate, you fall behind, you get left behind. I don't carry anyone's baggage, physical or emotional. Are we clear?"

There are murmurs of agreement. While I say nothing.

He finally looks at me with those blue eyes, and I feel it like a touch. "Last chance, does anyone have any questions? Now’s your chance."

Dave raises his hand. "What about wildlife? Bears, mountain lions?"

"Make noise. Don't run. If something charges at you, stand your ground." Another glance my way, so fast I almost miss it. "Most predators can smell fear. Don't give them the satisfaction."

He turns and starts up the trail without waiting for a response. The group follows after him, and I'm caught in the current, my sneakers finding minimal traction on loose rock as safety disappears behind us.

The trail starts with a climb that doesn't waste time. And before we even get fifty yards, my calves are screaming, my lungs feeling like they're being squeezed by invisible hands. I focus on my breathing, on the rhythm of each step, trying not to think about how much I suddenly hate cardio.

Behind me, someone wheezes. While another person mumbles about needing a cigarette. But Rowan doesn't slow down.

I keep my eyes on his back. Not because I want to, but because looking anywhere else means acknowledging how badly I'm failing.

Not once does he look back. The group struggles to keep up with him, a line of idiots who paid good money to go through hell, leaving me somewhere in the middle, pretending I belong here.

The sun beats down on us, angry. I can feel the sweat rolling down between my shoulder blades. Not to mention this big ass backpack I'm having to lug around…my own personal sauna, complete with chafing and the slow death of my will to live.

This is what you wanted, Claire. I remind myself. Challenge. Change. Not sitting in an empty house, overthinking why my marriage failed.

"You guys doing okay back there?"

Dave again, not even winded, which I find personally offensive. He's moved up to walk beside me, putting off that cocky confidence that probably works on women who aren't currently obsessed with their emotionally unavailable survival instructor.

"Fine," I lie.

Dave laughs, easily and too friendly. "He knows what he's doing. Apparently, he’s the best guide in the region."

I don't care what he is.

The trail starts to narrow. Jagged rock on one side and a drop-off on the other. It's not a huge one, maybe twenty feet, but it would be enough to break something. I focus on my feet, making sure to step carefully, not about how much I suddenly hate heights.

Rowan stops, and the whole group shuffles to a halt, grateful.