Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
His words hang between us like a challenge, electric in the air. For a moment, I can’t find my voice, torn between the urge to slap him and the confusing pull of whatever this is—this tension that crackles like a live wire between us. My heart thuds against my ribs, and I force myself to take a breath, pulling my shoulders back.
“Maybe I will,” I manage, my voice sharper than I feel. “But don’t think I’ll be hanging around waiting for lessons from a man who thinks he’s the king of the mountain.”
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my chest. His mouth quirks into a slow, infuriating grin, his gaze tracking every movement I make as I step back. “We’ll see about that, city girl,” he drawls, his voice like gravel rolling over smooth stone. He doesn’t turn away as I pivot on my heel and march off, and I can feel his eyes on my back, a physical weight that makes my skin tingle.
The sound of the river fades as I put distance between us, my steps crunching over the uneven ground. I fight the urge to look back, telling myself that he’s just another subject—just a stubborn, arrogant climber who happens to have a nice face. But the memory of his challenging smirk, the way his voice wrapped around me like rough velvet, lingers in my mind longer than I’d like.
I round a bend in the trail, the sun dipping lower in the sky and casting long shadows over the rocks. My heart is still racing, my palms damp against the strap of my camera, and I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of irritation—and something else—that he’s left behind. I don’t like the way he got under my skin, the way he made me feel so...off-balance. But there’s no denying that he’s stirred something up in me—something restless and wild that I thought I’d buried long ago.
I pause at a bluff overlooking the river, catching my breath, and lift my camera again, aiming it at the way the light dances over the water. As I click the shutter, I tell myself that this man is just part of the scenery here, like the mountains and the river. A challenge, maybe, but nothing more. Still, as I lower the camera and turn back toward the lodge, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just stepped into something I’m not quite ready for.
Chapter Two
Holt
The crisp morning air bites at my skin as I push up the trail, my knee protesting with each step, but I grit my teeth and keep going. Devil’s Peak stretches out around me, the shadows of the mountain long and dark in the early light. I think back on the accident that changed everything for me–my career as one of the most famous free-climbers in the area vanished in the span of a single moment. I blink away the memory of the 30-foot freefall that busted up my knee and left me hobbling around the lodge for the last ten weeks. I’m on the mend now with the help of hours of physical therapy every day, but I’ll never climb like I used to. There’s still something about this place that always gets my blood pumping, though, even if I can’t climb like I used to. The rhythm of the trail, the scent of pine and cold river water—it’s a reminder that I’m still here, still a part of the world I’ve spent my life conquering.
I round a bend, the sun barely breaking over the ridge, when I catch a flash of movement up ahead. My eyes narrow, focusing on a splash of floral that definitely doesn’t belong up here. I squint, recognizing the prim little figure clinging to a narrow ledge, her knuckles white as she grips the rock. It’s her. The city girl from this morning.
Damn it. What the hell is she doing up there?
She’s frozen, her face pale as she stares down at the drop below, and I can hear her ragged breathing even from here. A spark of annoyance flares in my chest, mingling with something else—something that makes me move before I can think better of it. I haul myself up the rocks, my knee screaming in protest, but I ignore it, muttering under my breath the whole way.
When I get close enough, I can hear her whispering to herself, trying to steady her breathing, but it’s not working. She’s panicking, barely hanging on by the edge of her nerves.
“Need some help, princess?” My voice cuts through the air, and I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm in my tone. Her head jerks toward me, eyes wide, lips parted like she’s just seen a ghost.
She swallows, trying to glare at me even though fear is written all over her face. “I’m fine,” she snaps, but her voice wobbles, and it’s obvious she’s anything but. She clings to the rock, her fingers digging into the rough surface like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling.