His Savage Longing: A Curvy Woman Mountain Man Romance

Chapter 7

Aspen

The dimly lit restaurant bustles with a lively din as Zane and I settle into a cozy corner booth. Rustic wooden beams stretch across the vaulted ceiling, while strings of Edison bulbs cast a warm, romantic glow over the intimate space.

Zane gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes my pulse kick up a notch. ”Figured this would be a good place to unwind after all that planning today.”

I lean into him with a soft chuckle, breathing in the familiar earthy musk that clings to his flannel shirt. ”You mean after you tried convincing me that a few rickety cabins and an outhouse qualified as ”premium amenities” for the camp?”

He arches an eyebrow, his lips twitching in that damn near irresistible smirk. ”I”m just saying, there”s a certain charm to embracing a few creature discomforts out there. Builds character.”

”You”re lucky you”re cute, Bishop,” I tease, giving his firm bicep a playful shove just as our server appears with a tray of drinks.

”Campari and soda for the gentleman, and a Negroni for the lady,” she chirps, distributing the cocktails with a polished flourish.

Zane offers the young woman a subtle nod of approval before she drifts off again.

”So...” I trail off expectantly, unable to resist prodding him now that we”ve been granted a temporary respite from our whirlwind camp revival scheming. ”You were saying about ”building character” out in the wild?”

Zane huffs out a low chuckle, absently swirling the amber liquid in his glass before downing a hearty swig. ”You know as well as I do that half the magic of Silverpine is stripping away all the distractions and bullshit modern comforts we”ve gotten so used to. It”s about reconnecting with a simpler way of living, one that forces you to be present and self-reliant.”

I can”t argue with his logic, not when I”d experienced that same primal thrill so often as a camper here. There was something so empowering about waking up to the crisp mountain air, body aching from a day spent climbing jagged cliff faces and hiking through the backcountry.

”Okay, you”ve got a point,” I concede around the rim of my glass. ”But we can”t completely ignore modernizing some things, too, right? I”m all for capturing that rugged authenticity, but we”ll need to strike some balances to attract a new generation.”

Zane considers this for a moment, absently rubbing his whiskered jawline. ”Fair enough. I”m willing to meet you halfway on selective upgrades and amenities.”

The unexpected olive branch makes me perk up, a slow grin spreading across my face. For the first time, we”re actually aligning on a shared long-term vision for Silverpine instead of digging in on opposing philosophies. A strange sense of giddy optimism bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me—one I haven”t felt in longer than I can remember.

Emboldened, I lean across the table and capture Zane”s free hand in my own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. ”You know, for a couple of stubborn jackasses, we might just make a hell of a team after all.”

”Funny, feels like I already said that,” he rumbles, the rough pad of his thumb caressing over my knuckles in a way that has my skin tingling.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words evaporate on my tongue as a raucous burst of laughter echoes from the crowded bar area. Frowning, I twist in my seat to get a better look at the disturbance.

My stomach clenches as I take in the rowdy group holding court at the bar—a pack of overly tanned businessmen in designer suits, reeking of new money arrogance. The loudest one, a stocky guy in an obnoxiously bright red tie, slams his tumbler down with a bark of laughter.

”I”m telling you fellas, there are fortunes to be made scooping up these diamond-in-the-rough properties out in the sticks.” He jabs a thick finger toward one of his buddies.

My pulse kicks up as the old instincts kick in—that finely honed ability to read between the lines, to sniff out an opportunity before anyone else even realizes it”s there.

Zane”s low rumble snaps me out of the momentary trance. ”Everything okay?”

I force my attention back to him, my lips curving into what I hope is a reassuring smile. ”Actually, I think we might have just gotten lucky.”

His brow furrows, but I don’t waste time explaining. Reaching across the table, I give his forearm a squeeze. ”Be right back.”

Before Zane can protest, I”m sliding out of the booth and making a beeline for the rowdy investors.

”Excuse me, gentlemen,” I interject with a polite smile as I wedge myself into their little circle. ”I couldn”t help but overhear your conversation about investment opportunities.”

The loud one—clearly the ringleader—gives me an appraising once-over. ”What”s a pretty little thing like you know about serious business?”

The condescending words are like a physical slap. I can feel my hackles rising, that instinctive flare of temper threatening to boil over. But I instantly smother it, keeping my features schooled into an expression of polite interest as I take a measured half-step closer.

”More than you could ever imagine,” I murmur, letting just a hint of challenge slip into my tone. ”Tell me, how would you and your associates like to get in on the ground floor of a once-in-a-lifetime investment that”s poised to be the next big thing in outdoor adventure tourism?”

The man”s bravado falters ever so slightly at my directness, that arrogant mask cracking just enough for me to see the spark of curiosity kindling beneath. Bingo. I”ve got his attention.

”Gentlemen, what you”re looking at is a chance to revitalize and breathe new life into Camp Silverpine—a once-thriving outdoor mecca nestled in the heart of the Rockies. We”re talking hundreds of acres of pristine wilderness property ripe for development.”

I can see the vision taking shape in their eyes, dollar signs practically glimmering behind their avaricious stares.

”With a few savvy renovations and the right marketing strategy, we”re talking about an opportunity that could deliver a return in the eight to nine figures, easy. All we need is an infusion of start-up capital to get the ball rolling.”

The words seem to hover in the air with a weighty sense of promise. The ringleader exchanges a series of meaningful glances with his crew before turning back toward me with a wolfish grin.

”You”ve got our attention. Why don”t you have your people reach out to my office, say... Monday morning?”

He digs into his jacket pocket and fishes out an embossed card, which he presses into my palm before giving me an entirely-too-lingering once over.

”We”ll hammer out the finer details then.”

My smile is all feigned politeness as I tuck the card safely away. ”I look forward to doing business with you.”

I spin on my heel, the triumphant grin already plastered across my face as I return to Zane.

Except when I scan the dim recesses of our cozy corner booth, it”s glaringly empty. Zane is nowhere to be seen.

A leaden knot forms in the pit of my stomach as the realization sinks in with sobering clarity. Of course, he bolted—I just went full corporate raider on those douchebags without so much as a sideways glance in his direction. After everything we”d talked about keeping Camp Silverpine grounded and honoring its spirit, I let my business-minded instincts take the wheel without a second thought.

Just like that, the delicate balance we were working toward got tossed out the window.

Zane”s stubborn pride and my own overzealous ambition are like flint and tinder. Of course, a stupid move like that would send him running.

The anger sparks to life then. He didn”t even give me a chance before bolting. Again. Zane”s vanishing act is just par for the course these days—the second things get too intense or complicated, he dives headfirst into his self-imposed exile.

Well, this time, his little wilderness hideaway won”t be enough to shake me. Not a chance in hell.

The icy night air slaps me in the face as I burst out onto the street, instantly regretting my lack of warmer layers. Squaring my shoulders, I pivot on my heel and strike off down the deserted sidewalk at a brisk pace.

My breath fogs out in ragged plumes with each determined stride, the rhythmic click of my heels against the pavement keeping time with the furious pounding of my pulse. The neon glow of the restaurant fades behind me, swallowed up by the looming darkness stretching in every direction.

Zane is out there somewhere. I can feel it in my gut, that same primal intuition that used to allow us to track each other through the densest forest or up the most treacherous mountain face without even trying. He”s licking his wounds in that vast, untamed wilderness that has always been his sanctuary.

And I”m going to find him, no matter what it takes.