But you know what? No. Last night takes the cake. It was a top tier suck fest. Lying on that lumpy twin mattress in that echoey hotel room, listening to the pipes gurgle and floorboards settle, replaying every detail of what happened with Rowan over and over until my chest seared with pain… that was the worst night of my life. Bar none.

  The anger.

  The bitter disappointment.

  And the longing.

  So much longing I could barely breathe.

  Seriously. Did Rowan have to kiss me like that if he never planned to keep me? Did he have to casually ruin me for all other men, like it was no big deal? Such a jerk!

  All night long, my fingertips reached up to brush my mouth again and again, like I might feel the ghost of his kiss left on my lips. And all night long, a needy hum buzzed under my skin—because the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge wound me up like a clockwork toy, then left me empty and wanting.

  So. When the pale light of dawn creeps around the hotel curtains, I roll off the bed with a growl. The bed frame shrieks and the mattress springs all plink in a janky chorus, and I stomp to the bathroom, muttering.

  I scrub at my teeth like I’m trying to sand them down to stubs.

  I gargle mouthwash and spit viciously at the mirror.

  And I take the angriest, most huffy shower that poky little cubicle has ever seen, muttering under my breath about stubborn mountain men and scrubbing my skin until it’s pink and raw.

  Ten minutes later, I charge out onto the street, my backpack bouncing on my shoulders. My shiny new hiking books squeak with every step, rubbing at my toes and heels through my thick socks, but I don’t care.

  The sting is good, actually. It distracts from the hole in my chest.

  Goddamn Rowan.

  My legs feel strong after yesterday’s hike, and my ankle doesn’t twinge at all after that stupid fall. As I lengthen my strides, finding a good rhythm, some of the stiffness in my hamstrings melts away, and the breeze drifts over my hot cheeks like it’s trying to soothe my temper.

  My damp hair is braided back, with my crocheted headband keeping any flyaway strands out of my eyes. I’m in moss green leggings and a purple tank top, a gray sweater stuffed in my backpack with my other supplies in case I get cold.

  Hard to imagine my core temperature dropping even a single degree. Not with this much anger boiling in my veins.

  When I saw myself in the mirror this morning, I barely recognized myself. Since when has steel glinted in my eyes? Since when have I looked ready to cut a bitch? Evie Daniels has always been one of life’s peacemakers, more likely to soothe than snap. But here I am storming through town, ready to chew out a certain wild man.

  The area map is folded away in my backpack, with my previous best guess for the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge’s location crossed on it in a big X. Could use it again, I suppose, since it sort of worked the first time, but for now I point my feet at the right mountain and march through the empty town streets.

  My boots thud hollowly against the sidewalk. A dog walker passes on the other side of the street, nodding politely as their dog gives me a sloppy mutt grin.

  Gusting out a long breath, I wave back and force a smile.

  The tightness in my chest loosens a tiny bit when I step from the sidewalk to packed dirt. It loosens again when I reach the grassy slopes at the base of the mountain, my arms pumping and sweat already trickling down my spine. The air tastes like fresh spring water and pine.

  Yes.

  This is right. This is necessary.

  I can’t let Rowan go without a fight, damn it. That stubborn jerk is mine.

  Arms swinging, thighs burning, I climb and climb without even stopping to gasp for air. As birds burst into song all around me, blasting out their dawn chorus, I climb the base of that mountain like the freaking Terminator. And only when I’m past the tree line, with trunks stretching high to the sky all around, do I finally stumble to a halt with a gasp.

  Because charging down the mountain path between the trees, a look of fierce determination etched on his features, is Rowan.

  A blue flannel shirt covers his broad chest, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and he’s wearing boots again. There’s some kind of leather satchel slung across his back, and god, I forgot how unfairly handsome he is now with his hair and beard tamed. That jawline is sharper than a hunting knife.

  Rowan falters too when he sees me, relief and uncertainty and regret flitting across his face in rapid succession. His steps slow, and his piercing gray eyes watch me closely as we meet on the path.

  Silence stretches, filled instead by the birds and the breeze through the trees. I’m panting from the climb, sweaty and red-faced, and yeah, now I wish I’d gone a little slower, reining in my rage.

  At least then I’d be cool and composed when I faced down the man who broke my heart. Instead I’m clutching at a stitch in my side.

  “Going for a pre-breakfast wander?” I snap. Something about seeing him this morning, all handsome and solemn and not winded at all by his hike, makes me want to tear out my own hair and kick him in the shins. If I thought my anger was bad before… well, now it’s choking me.

  “No.” Rowan grips his satchel strap. That broad hand took my waist yesterday, tugging me against his body; it squeezed my hip and slid around my back. “I was on my way down to find you, Evie.”

  Ha!

  “Well, I was right where you left me.” Rowan winces as the words land, but still watches me steadily. Gone is the agitation that twisted him up yesterday; he’s calm. Sure of himself.

  Unlike me. What the hell has gotten into me this morning?

  I’m not an angry person. I never, ever stomp or yell, and usually when I get annoyed it fades as quickly as it came. But now it’s like meeting Rowan, longing for Rowan, has cracked open deep wells of emotion I never knew I had.

  “You’re not in your hotel room now,” he notes. “Did you come up here looking for me?”

  Yes. “No.”

  Can’t admit that now. Can’t make sense of any of this, not when my exhausted brain has barely slept a wink and my broken heart is slumped inside my ribs. Why is he here? Why is he wearing a shirt and boots?

  “Are you sure?” Rowan asks gently.

  Ugh.

  Why did I come up here? What was I gonna do, drag Rowan back to town with me by his earlobe? Then what?

  He didn’t want me. Not enough to try, anyway, and storming up here like this is just another humiliation to add to the pile. Worst of all, it’s like he reads all these thoughts flitting across my face, because Rowan’s mouth turns down and he steps forward, arms reaching.

  “Evie—”

  “Don’t!” A rock skitters as I stumble back a step. If he holds me again, if he pretends to want me again then takes it back, I will lose my freaking mind.

  The birds go quiet for a few moments, like they’re eavesdropping on the drama below. The morning wind whistles through the tree trunks and cuts right through my tank top, and shoot, it is cold up here. Forgot that, somehow, in my red haze of rage.

  Because I nearly froze in Rowan’s cave only two nights ago. Nearly lost my damn toes. And he built up that fire and spooned me on his pelt until warmth spread through my body again, soothing me to sleep.

  My face crumples at the memory.

  Rowan makes a low, anguished sound.

  “I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so fucking sorry.” His deep voice rumbles through me, settling that agitated buzz that’s been gnawing on my bones. Gray eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to listen. “Those—those episodes always mess me up, always leave me so raw and on edge. I can’t think straight right after them. Can’t shake off the sense of doom. It’s like anything I touch will turn to dust, and I’m so sure that’s true, so fucking sure, that I can’t trust myself with anything good. And you’re not just good, Evie. You’re perfect.”

  Empathy throbs in my chest, but I stare up at the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge, not speaking. I need to hear this. Need to let him get it all out.

  We won’t be able to move forward until he does. Until I can trust that he means what he says.

  “It’s not real, though. I know those thoughts aren’t real.” Rowan’s chest lifts as he sucks in a deep breath. “And I know I can do better for you… if you’ll let me.”

  My throat is tight as I swallow. My feet ache as I shift my weight.

  Already, I feel lighter.

  “Do better?” I scrape out, my voice so quiet on the mountainside.

  What exactly does Rowan mean, he’ll do better? As in, he’ll work on it up here in his cave? He’ll let me come visit him sometimes? He’ll start some caveman journal to process his feelings? What?

  “There’s a cabin,” Rowan says, barely blinking as he stares at me. Like he can’t bear to miss even a split second of having me in front of him. “Down near the treeline. A thirty minute hike from town—a middle ground, like you said yesterday. It’s for sale, and I want to buy it. If you think you’d like that.”

  My bruised heart stutters. I sway in my boots. “If I’d like that?”

  Rowan’s jaw firms. “Yes. Because I want you there with me.”

  This time when he steps forward, I place my hands on his shoulders and let his arms wind around my waist. My pulse flutters in my throat.

  He’s so strong. So warm. So sturdy.

  As I gust out a long sigh, a whole load of my agitation slips away too. Because how can I hold a grudge over this? My wild man is wounded—I knew that. Life has not been easy on him, has it?

  But he’s here, charging down the mountain path at first light for me. Looking for me, wanting to try again. To fight for this.

  All I need is that he’s willing to try. Because I know, even if Rowan has his doubts: he’s a fighter. He can overcome anything—even the demons that have haunted him for so long.

  “So you want me in this cabin as your roommate?” I tease, warmth spreading slowly from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. It’s impossible to stay cold when Rowan looks at me like that, with fierce hunger and longing, like I’m an angel sent down from heaven just for him. Yeah, he’s never gonna let me go again—it’s clear from his possessive grip on my waist.

  “Fuck that,” he says, and I burst out laughing. The birds are singing up in the branches again, bored now that the tension is melting away down here on the path. “You’re not my roommate, Evie. You’ll be my heart. My woman. My wife. If you’ll have me.”

  Vulnerability flickers across his face, and I can’t stand the sight of it. Can’t stand the answering pinch of pain in my chest.

  Of course I’ll have Rowan.

  Of course I’ll fight for him too. What else am I doing stomping around this mountainside?

  We’re made for each other, him and I.

  “I have one very strict condition,” I tell him, cupping his smooth jaw. He must have shaved it again this morning, neatening himself before he came down to find me, and that sends a tingly glow through my insides. My thumb strokes his cheek, the contact making him shiver, and I can hardly believe this is happening.

  Rowan’s offering me a new life on the mountain? A life in a cabin, with a bed, and in walking distance of a town where I can make friends? A town where I can find a better job than with shitty Pretzel Media, then go home every night to the man I love?

  I don’t need to think about this at all. It feels so right.

  “Anything,” Rowan rasps. “Name it and it’s yours.”

  Clearing my throat, I fix him with my most serious look. “I want another fancy bath, Wild Man.”

  There’s a stunned pause—then Rowan throws his head back and laughs, the sound booming through the trees. Above us, birds explode from the branches and flap away, crying out to each other.

  “You startled them,” I say, watching them go.

  “You startled me.” Rowan picks me up easily, slinging me into his arms like I weigh nothing, and carries me off the path into the trees. “They’ll live.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Rowan arches an eyebrow. “Where do you think? We need privacy, Evie. Privacy for all the things I’m going to do to you. No random hiker is going to see you like that, not on my watch. Besides, I have a bathtub to fill.”

  His cave.

  Of course.

  A pleased rumble reverberates through Rowan’s chest as I lean up and kiss his neck. He can take me there if he likes, but you’d better believe I’m gonna tease him the whole way.

  Ten

  Rowan

  If my arms weren’t both occupied, I’d slap myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. That this—Evie in my arms, soft and warm, nibbling her way along my jaw—is real, and not a hallucination.

  Hard to believe I carried her to my cave like this only two days ago. Hard to believe that she’s here again, up on my mountain; that she came searching for me after I let her down so badly last night.

  God knows I don’t deserve the grace she’s shown me. But mark my words: I will earn it. From this day on, I will never waver like that again. I’ll never choose the coward’s path and run away from love. I’ve always been a fighter, damn it—I just lost my way lately. But Evie’s brought me back to life. Back to myself.

  And I’ll prove how much this woman means to me, day in and day out, until she never questions that fact ever again.

  Ever.

  “I’m starting to think this is a kink of yours.” Evie flicks the top three buttons of my shirt open and slides her hand inside, resting her palm against the steady thump of my heart. “Carrying damsels off to your cave.”

  My legs are strong beneath me, stepping across tree roots and rocks. My head has never felt so clear.

  “Just the one damsel, actually.” When I squeeze her, Evie laughs. And it’s somehow the longest walk of my life to get back to the cave, even though the whole journey must take less than twenty minutes all told, both of us chatting happily the whole way.

  “Wait, the stick—”

  Too late. The icy waterfall dunks us both as I step inside. Evie slaps at my chest, spluttering, and my grin makes my cheeks ache as I stride to the brown pelt by the fire.

  “Oh, you jerk! I’m soaked to the skin!”

  I know. Evie’s nipples are hard, pressing against the thin cotton of her tank top, and my mouth waters as I set her down.

  “I’ll warm you up again, city girl.” With a bath, yes, but first—this.

  She huffs in response, but she’s not mad really. She’s playing along, all while staring at me with hungry eyes.

  I light a fire. For the first time in years, my hands shake and I drop a match. I’m too eager to get back to her; too worked up and trying to rush.

  “Amateur hour,” Evie says.

  Pausing, I turn and raise an eyebrow at her. She grins and wriggles on the pelt, and fuck, when did she peel that top off?

  Because Evie’s bare from the waist up, her skin milky in the dim cave, and her pink nipples are hard little beads. As I watch, goosebumps raise on her chest and arms, and she’s squirming even worse now, biting her lip under my perusal.

  The fire catches. Thank god.

  Tossing the burned match onto the logs, I stand and tug my shirt off in one go, then fling it into the shadows. My boots go next, kicked off one by one.

  Fuck ‘em. I’ll wear them in town, I’ll blend back into society for my future wife, but there will always be part of me that longs for the mountain breeze on my bare chest. That wants packed dirt and tree roots beneath my feet. And I won’t hide that side of me, not from her—and especially not when Evie giggles with delight and shimmies her leggings down.

  We undress in a clumsy blur of limbs, pieces of clothing flung all around the cave. One of Evie’s hiking socks lands perilously near the fire, but neither of us care enough to stage a rescue.

  Can’t do anything now except crash to my knees on the pelt, my legs throbbing from the hit of uneven stone, and drag my woman closer by the ankles.

  “Rowan!”

  Yeah. That’s what I want: my name on her lips. When I press her thighs wide, Evie spreads easily beneath my touch. Her hips tilt up, trying to draw my gaze down to the thatch of auburn curls between her legs.

  She’s pink and swollen and slick down there, glistening in the firelight. Already so needy for me. It calls to some ancient instinct of mine to sink deep inside her and pound my troubles away until I forget the whole world.

  But first…

  Settling down on the stone ground, I don’t care about the chill that seeps immediately into my body. Don’t care about the lumps and pebbles beneath the pelt. All I care about is shouldering my way into position, tossing her ankles over my shoulders, and leaning down to breathe on Evie’s slit.

  “Oh–oh!” Her back arches, body rolling on the pelt. Haven’t even touched her yet, and already she’s writhing. Evie peers down her body at me, both turned on and alarmed. “What are you…?”

  “I’m going to taste you here.” A single finger taps on her pubic bone, and Evie twitches again, choking back a yelp. “I’m going to lick you and suck you and make a fucking mess of you, sweetheart. And when you come, I’ll feel every vibration on my tongue.”

  Her breath quavers. Evie plucks at the brown fur pelt where the tufts tickle her hips, and she seems… shy.

  “Okay. But you should know, I’ve never… Any of this, I haven’t…”

  Her words trail off as I lean down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against her inner thigh. She’s never been touched this way? Never lain with a man before?

  Red hot hunger and possessiveness spiral in my gut at that thought, clenching tight. My skin heats a few degrees, and the chill of the stone floor is long forgotten.

  Christ, I could eat this girl alive. Could swallow her whole.

  Because she waited for me.

  And she’s mine.

  My hot breath pants against her slit. Evie’s squirming again, wriggling on the pelt, gripping the fur even as her heels dig into my back, urging me on. And the fire cooks my left side, the shadows dancing on the cave wall as I duck down and taste her.

  Finally.

 

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