Page 16 of His Wild Desire

Before I can respond, the creak of the cabin door behind me cuts me off. I glance over my shoulder to find Emma hovering in the doorway, her cheeks flushed with what I can only assume is embarrassment.

"I, uh... I think you might be looking for me," she mumbles, fiddling with the hem of my flannel shirt. Her half-dressed state and messy hair leave no doubt as to what she's spent the last few days doing.

Garrett's brows shoot up as he takes in the sight of her disheveled appearance. A slow, shit-eating grin spreads across his smug face as the pieces click into place.

"Well, I'll be damned. The city girl took a little detour." He lets out a low whistle. "Looks like the mystery's been solved after all."

Before I can say anything, he's already fishing his radio out of his vest pocket. "Dispatch, this is Blackwood. Looks like that hiker we were searching for is shacked up with one of the locals. No need to call out the cavalry just yet."

Then, clearing his throat, he turns to Emma with an apologetic dip of his chin. "Ma'am, your friend Aspen's been worried sick about you. She's the one who called in the missing person's report when she didn't hear from you." He fishes a battered satellite phone from the breast pocket of his worn field jacket, extending it toward Emma. "You might want to put the poor girl's mind at ease before she has half the county out here searching for you next."

Emma hesitates for a beat before taking the phone, shooting me an apologetic grimace.

"Thanks," she murmurs, offering Garrett a tight smile before ducking back inside to make the call, leaving the two of us alone on the creaky porch.

His gaze cuts toward the cabin, looking oddly contemplative. "Gotta admit, I didn't take you for the type to get all tangled up with some high-maintenance society girl. Thought you'd sworn off that kind of complicated baggage for good."

The words freeze in his throat at the murderous look I pin him with. Clearing his throat, he shifts his weight from one scuffed work boot to the other. "My point is, you don't exactly seem like the picket fence and Sunday brunch type these days."

"I'm not," I say, raking one hand through my messy hair. "I was just giving her a place to stay until she got back on her feet."

Garrett's eyes narrow at my dismissive words, clearly not buying my bullshit attempt at nonchalance.

"Sure, Stone. Whatever you say." He lets the skepticism drip from his tone before shifting his weight, crossing those brawny arms over his broad chest. "Listen, man, I'm just gonna lay it out there—when's the last time you actually let someone in?”

I stiffen at the pointed question, my jaw clenching. Garrett's never been one to mince words, a quality I usually appreciate in the gruff search and rescue coordinator. But his uncanny knack for cutting straight to the heart of shit I'd rather avoid is grating on my last nerve right about now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, turning my face away to stare at the towering pines swaying in the distance. But even to my own ears, the dismissal rings hollow.

Garrett huffs out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure you don't, buddy. You've been livin' up here like a damn hermit."

I shift my stance, jaw working silently as a dozen different deflections run through my head.

But Garrett's already steamrolling on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "The thing is, man, you can't keep livin' like one of them damn grizzlies that wander these hills, all alone and closed off forever. It ain't natural—you were meant for more than that."

"That so?" I growl, bristling at the implication that my choices, my lifestyle, are somehow flawed or unnatural. "And I suppose you've got it all figured out, huh? The perfect little family man with a couple rugrats and a white picket fence waitin' for you back home?"

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk. "Hey, I'm not sayin' I got all the answers or nothin'. But even a blind man could see the way you two were looking at each other."

Before I can formulate a sufficiently scathing retort, the cabin door creaks open once more. Emma emerges with the satellite phone in one hand and a battered duffel slung over her opposite shoulder. She’s pulled on leggings and boots but still wears my oversized flannel shirt.

"Sorry about that," she murmurs, handing the device back to Garrett with a tight smile.

"No worries," the burly man replies with an easy grin, pocketing the radio.

Emma's gaze drifts over to mine. For a beat, everything seems to fall away—the rumble of the jeep's engine, the mocking lilt of Garrett's voice, the gentle whisper of the wind through the pines. It's just her and me as our eyes lock across the narrow divide.

Then, the moment shatters as Garrett clears his throat, effectively shattering the fragile tension. "Well, we best get you back down the mountain.”

He gestures to the idling Jeep with a tilt of his head, and Emma's throat works in a convulsive swallow as her attention snaps back to the present. She nods once, a jerky motion, before shifting that duffel higher on her shoulder and turning to face me fully.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," she says, her voice catching ever so slightly over the hushed words.

And just like that, the stark reality of her imminent departure slams into me like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me momentarily winded. The thought of watching her walk away leaves an ache in my bones that's entirely new and unsettling.

But Garrett's words keep echoing through my mind, a relentless litany I can't seem to escape. Closing myself off, shutting out the world—it's the only way I've known how to cope, to heal from the gaping wounds left by loss and disappointment. Letting someone in? The very notion is terrifying. Uncharted territory that has my instincts screaming to retreat, to cling to the safety of solitude before I can become too entangled.

So, I do what I've always done when faced with that primal fear of vulnerability. I shut down, locking away the riot of emotions swirling beneath the surface until only my gruff, unshakable mountain man facade remains.