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)
She shoots me a look that could melt ice, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and it hits me in a way I’m not prepared for. As she brushes past me, heading back down the trail, I watch her go, my gaze tracking the sway of her hips even as I tell myself I don’t care.
But the truth is, maybe this city girl is more interesting than I thought. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be the distraction I need from the restless ache that’s been gnawing at me since I fell off that damn cliff.
As the wind picks up, carrying the scent of the river and the promise of a storm, I can’t help but think that I’m looking forward to whatever comes next.
Chapter Three
Lila
The sun burns high above the jagged cliffs of Devil’s Peak, its light searing against the craggy rocks and casting shadows that stretch like fingers over the mountain’s rough terrain. I stand at the base of a beginner’s climbing route that begins at the edge of the Devil’s Peak Lodge property. I tug at the straps of my new harness, trying to figure out how to adjust it. My floral dresses and skirts are back at the lodge, replaced with fitted hiking pants and a snug athletic top that clings to my curves. Even dressed like this, I feel out of place here—too polished, too careful for the rugged wildness of the Rockies.
I glance up at the rock face, my stomach twisting with a mix of determination and nerves. I won’t let this man see me falter. He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches me fumble with the harness. The man is maddening, with his infuriating confidence and the way he seems to see right through me. I try to ignore him, focusing instead on the buckles in front of me, but his presence looms large, filling the space between us.
“You know, princess, that harness won’t do much good if it’s twisted like that.” His voice is all gravel and amusement, cutting through the quiet of the mountain. He doesn’t even try to hide his laughter.
I grit my teeth, refusing to look at him. “I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of figuring this out myself. And stop calling me princess.” The words come out sharper than I intend, but my hands betray me, trembling as they fumble with the straps.
“What should I call you then?” His grin deepens.
“Lila,” I say simply.
A low chuckle escapes him. He takes a step closer, boots crunching on the gravel, until his shadow falls over me. He doesn’t ask for permission as he reaches out, fingers brushing against mine, guiding the harness into place.
“Nice to meet you, Lila. Name’s Holt,” he murmurs, leaning in close enough that his breath warms my ear. His hands move with an easy confidence, tightening the harness around my hips, pulling the straps until they’re snug against my body.
I go still, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of his touch. His fingers linger, brushing over the curve of my waist, and my breath catches in my throat. I hate that my skin prickles under his hands, heat flooding my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see me flustered.
Holt’s eyes meet mine, his smirk edging into something more predatory, and I square my shoulders, tilting my chin up defiantly.
“So, Holt… Are you always so grumpy or do you just like ordering people around?” My voice is sharper than I feel, but I catch the way it softens at the end, and I see the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
He leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at me. “You’ve got a mouth on you, city girl. Let’s see if you’re as tough as you talk.” He gestures toward the rock face, his grin infuriatingly confident. “And I do like ordering people around. Now start climbing.”
I want to wipe that look off his face, but more than that, I want to prove him wrong. I turn to the rock, planting my hands on the rough surface. The stone is cool under my palms, gritty against my fingers, and I try to focus on that instead of the way Holt’s presence feels like a weight pressing down on me.
“Put your foot here, and lean into the wall,” he says, his voice low and close to my ear as he steps up behind me, his breath warm against my neck. He presses a hand against my lower back, guiding me forward, and the contact is like a jolt of electricity racing through my veins. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, forcing myself to follow his instructions.