Burly and Rugged (The Men of Silver Pine Ridge #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

LINDY

L indy, you’re going to have fun, I promise. I think you’re really going to like David!” my best friend Rebecca promised when we got to Uncle Joe’s Bar half an hour ago.

Boy, was she wrong. Our food hasn’t even arrived yet, but I’m already certain I’d rather be home with some beer and Netflix. I’d rather watch a documentary on the history of grass growing than talk to this guy.

Rebecca’s new boyfriend, Mike, is currently too busy scrolling on his phone to notice us talking. Rebecca says they’re happy, but it doesn’t look like it. Next to me is David—my blind date—who might actually be the least interesting man I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure he’s equally disinterested in me.

I resist the urge to sigh into my cocktail. “Tell me about the competition at the Sweetheart County Fair.”

“Oh, right!” Rebecca’s eyes light up. “My cousin Grady invited me to compete with them in the chili contest! We’re going to make our grandfather’s chili recipe. We’ve been fiddling with the recipe a little, though I’m not sure if we’ll compete with any changes. I don’t think it’s likely we’ll win, but it’ll be fun.”

“That’s really cool, Rebecca! I bet you’ll both win something—your chili is ah-mazing. Your grandfather made the best chili I’ve ever had.” I remember when we were little, sometimes we’d go over to her grandparent’s house in the summer, and so often her grandfather was cooking a batch of his chili. He always entered local and state competitions, too, and Rebecca has kept his tradition alive since he passed away.

“Thanks,” Rebecca beams, glancing at Mike, who’s still ignoring us. The light dims in her eyes. I hope she’s as happy as she claims. They haven’t been dating very long, but Rebecca always falls head over heels when she meets someone she likes. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know, but she’s had the hardest time finding someone who deserves her heart. “You need to get out more. You spend too much time in your studio.” She looks at me hopefully and whispers, “David’s nice. Right?”

I look at Rebecca and shrug, hoping she’ll change the subject. David is…fine, I suppose…for a woman who isn’t me. He’s more interested in the basketball game on the bar’s TV than he is in me. I don’t know how Rebecca could think he and I are a match. He hasn’t asked me a single question since we sat down—unless I count, So, what do you do again? which he asked with all the enthusiasm of a man who felt obliged to, not out of genuine interest. That was followed by the predictably offensive, But what do you really do? Painting is just a hobby, when I said I was an artist, and You actually make money at that? when I said that it was my job.

Rebecca, determined to fill the silence, pulls out her phone and waves it in my direction. “Oh! I meant to ask you. I saw this ad for a survival course up in the mountains. You ever heard of Silver Pine Ridge?”

“Isn’t that over on King Mountain?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “My dad used to take me camping when I was a kid. Maybe I could learn how to fight off bears with my bare hands. That’d be a useful skill.” I laugh and take a long drink of my beer. I can already feel tipsy-ness setting in, but I’m not feeling like I need to be on my best behavior with David, so…why not get tipsy?

Rebecca grins. “Well, I think the goal is avoiding the bears, but yeah. It sounds pretty intense. No phones, no Wi-Fi, just learning how to survive in the wilderness.”

I’m not really outdoorsy. It’s not that I have anything against it, but I spend more time in my studio or the art store than anywhere else. There’s definitely something appealing about the idea of being cut off from everything, forced to rely on nothing but yourself. I’m already independent, but this sounds like an interesting challenge. Not something I’d ever sign up for, but interesting.

I finish my beer and put it on the table. “Huh. That actually sounds kind of cool.”

That’s when David finally gives me his full attention, and not in a kind way. “Hiking? You ?” The way he says it—so casually dismissive—makes me see red.

I blink and try to count to ten before responding, but I don’t make it that far. “Excuse you?” If I stay on this stupid blind date much longer, I won’t be responsible for what happens to David…but I might need bail money.

David laughs, not hiding how he looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my stomach. “No offense,” he says in a way that can only be taken as derisive. “But you don’t exactly strike me as the outdoorsy type.”

I motion for the server to bring me a fresh drink and take another deep breath. “And what exactly does the outdoorsy type look like?” I challenge David.

He shrugs, and it’s almost worse than him saying because you’re a fatty fatso . “I don’t know. Someone…toned and athletic?”

There it is. The assumption that I can’t do something because I’m fat. The generic, lazy put-down I’ve heard more times than I can count. That I’m not the kind of woman capable of doing hard things. That I must be a stranger to exercise.

Sensing the shift in my mood, Rebecca gives me a wary look. But it’s too late. My blood is already boiling.

“Let me see that,” I say, reaching for her phone.

Rebecca hesitates but hands me her phone. “Lindy…”

I don’t wait. I grab the phone, click through to the registration website, and fill in my information.

David laughs and his eyes go wide. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I verify all my information is correct, and before I can second-guess myself, I tap Submit. I don’t know what I’m doing signing up for this course, but I’m not letting a jerkface tell me what I can and can’t do. So yes, maybe I’m signing up out of spite, but now I want to know if I can conquer this challenge.

My phone dings a second later, and I hold it up to show the confirmation email notification on the home screen.

I thank the server as she hands me a fresh pint of beer. Turning, I glare at David, who’s staring at me with a stunned expression, and give him my best smile. “It’s dangerous to underestimate me.”

Two weeks after the disastrous double date, I park in front of The Lodge at Silver Pine Ridge. It’s beautiful up here. I may not really be one for long hikes in the woods, but it’s easy to see why people are enthusiastic about hiking and camping. Maybe I’ll be a convert , I think to myself and chuckle.

I step out of my car, stretching after the long drive. The air is different here—crisp, woodsy, and fresh in a way that makes me inhale deeper. No hum of traffic, no city sounds. Just the whisper of the wind through the trees and the distant call of birds.

I adjust my backpack over my shoulder and check my phone one last time before turning it off and putting it in the glove compartment of my car. It’s going to be weird without my phone, but not being tethered to life and Instagram seems like it will actually be a nice break.

Here we go!

As I head toward The Lodge, the door swings open.

The man who walks onto the porch makes me stop in my tracks. He’s tall but not too tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark cargo pants and a fitted T-shirt that shows off arms with more muscles than I can possibly count but desperately want to touch. He has piercing eyes, a dark beard, and a gaze that makes me stand up straighter and stick out my chest.

Whoa. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a man and had this kind of deep, instantaneous physical reaction. I’m going to be spending a week with him ? I might self-combust before I even learn how to build a fire.

His eyes flick over me—not in a way that feels inappropriate, just...assessing. Like he’s already figuring out how I’ll do. More than anything, I want to measure up. I definitely want his approval.

“Lindy Reade?” His voice is deep. God. How am I going to survive a week with this man without jumping him?

“That’s me,” I say, lifting my chin slightly, preparing myself for if he turns out to be another jerk who judges people based on their appearance.

He nods once, stepping aside. “I’m Cody Bryson. Your instructor. Come on inside and we’ll get things going.”

I step past him into The Lodge, and the moment I do, I can feel him behind me.

“You ever done anything like this before?” Cody asks.

I suppress a shiver as his breath tickles the back of my neck, and his body heat makes the hair on my arms stand up.

I shake my head, smiling and telling myself to keep my raging hormones in check. I came up here to learn something new and push my boundaries, not to fantasize about climbing on top of my guide and using his body as my own personal playground. And grinding. So much grinding. “Nope. First time. I used to go camping with my dad when I was little, but that was a long time ago.”

Cody nods slowly, and for a second, his eyes flicker with something I can’t decipher. If he can read my mind, he’s doing a superb job hiding his reaction. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

“Alright,” he says after I’ve signed some paperwork and he’s checked that I brought the suggested supplies for the week. “Let’s get going.”

By the time we reach the first campsite, my legs burn, and my shoulders ache from carrying my pack, even though it didn’t feel that heavy when we started. Cody barely looks even winded.

A hint of a knot in my shoulder annoys me as I drop my pack. Rolling my shoulders, I’m thankful I brought ibuprofen. “So, what’s first? Wilderness yoga?”

Cody doesn’t react to my attempt at a joke. Instead, he kneels by a ring of flat stones and pulls out supplies—fire starter, kindling, sticks, dry grass. I watch as he clears a space for a fire and begins layering everything.

“Fire,” he says, casting his brown eyes up to me. “It’s one of your most important skills out here.”

I kneel across from him, watching. He strikes the steel against the flint. A bright spark ignites immediately, curling into the dry grass. The flames take hold, stretching and growing in seconds.

I blink. “That was fast.”

He doesn’t answer; he just lets the fire burn before snuffing it out with his boot. Then he hands me the fire starter.

“Now you.”

I take it, shifting into position, trying to mimic what he did. I want to get this right. Not just for myself—though I know that’s the real reason I’m here—but because I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of Cody.

I strike the flint. Nothing.

Frowning, I try again. A weak spark flickers and then dies as quickly as it appeared.

Cody watches, arms resting on his knees, his expression patient. How many times has he had to sit through this?

I grit my teeth. Again. Still nothing.

Frustration starts to creep in. I keep trying, but the sparks keep fading faster than they appeared.

“Dammit,” I mutter. “Is this one of those ‘if you were stranded, you’d already be dead’ moments?”

Cody’s mouth twitches—almost a smile, but not quite. “Not yet. You’re doing fine.”

Somehow, that makes me feel better. It catches me off guard that he seems like a nice guy, not a jerk with a chip on his shoulder. Girl, maybe you’ve been on too many bad dates if you assume every man is the worst .

I adjust my grip, focusing harder. My hands are sore, but I refuse to quit.

Strike. Spark. Still not catching.

I exhale sharply, steadying myself. Try again. And again. And—finally—a tiny ember glows in the dry grass.

I freeze and hold my breath, watching as the ember flickers, fragile. Heart pounding, I lean in carefully, blowing gently, coaxing it to life and hoping I don’t blow the flame out. The flame catches, spreads.

Satisfaction floods through me as I sit back, triumphant. “I did it! Fire!” It feels like I’ve tried a thousand times, but I don’t care now because it finally worked.

Cody nods, watching the flames. “Well done.”

There’s no teasing in his voice, no mocking. Just a simple acknowledgment.

I should feel embarrassed that it took me so many tries, but I don’t. Because Cody waited. Not to see me fail—but to give me the room to try to work on it until I was successful. No berating. No annoyed sighs. Just calm patience and a vibe that if I needed to ask for help, he’d give it freely.

He reaches for a few larger sticks, showing me how to build the fire up without smothering it. His voice is even and steady as he explains how too much wood too soon will kill it and how the balance has to be just right. I listen, but my eyes keep fixating on his mouth and his firm lips.

I came here for me—to push my limits, to prove something to myself. But now?

I want to impress Cody and make him see me as more than the girl who took a thousand tries to start a fire.