Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
I hate the way my body responds to his nearness, the way my skin prickles with awareness, my cheeks flushing under his intense gaze. But I refuse to let him see it. I lift my chin, meeting his stare head-on. “Not running this time, Slate. And I don’t need you to protect me.”
Slate’s smile is slow, predatory, his voice a low rumble that seems to wrap around me. “We’ll see about that.”
Flint whistles, stepping between us with a broad grin. “Damn, you two gonna keep circling each other, or are we all gonna catch fire from this heat you’re throwing around?”
Holt leans back against the counter, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Slate here’s been sulking ever since you left, Emma. Think you can put him out of his misery?”
Slate shoots Holt a dark look, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Holt, shut the hell up.”
I can’t help the twitch of my lips, amusement slipping through my resolve despite myself. But I quickly shove it down, forcing my attention back to the reason I’m here. “So, Slate, are you available, or should I find someone else?”
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 deflate with 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.”