Chapter 8 #2
Now, the memory burned in him, equal parts satisfaction and regret.
Lark rode just behind him, her posture straight, her hair still damp and curling around her neck. Every few minutes, he’d glance over her shoulder, and their eyes would meet for half a heartbeat before he looked away.
They both knew they’d crossed a line. And neither of them seemed willing—or able—to take a step back. They passed the point of no return, and things would never be the same again. There would not be sides in their tent. Not tonight.
He’d told himself this trip was temporary. A job. One week, a paycheck, and he’d walk away. But the second she’d said he made her feel safe, that had undone him completely. He didn’t want to be the man she felt safe with. He wanted to be the man who could keep her.
The problem was, she didn’t know who he really was—or what he’d done.
As the trail leveled out, he let his horse drift closer to hers. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was charged, heavy, full of everything they hadn’t said. Everything he’d kept from her. And he didn’t know how to bridge the gap without breaking her trust irrevocably.
“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice low.
She nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About earlier?”
Her lips parted, then closed again. “Among other things.”
That hint of a smile tugged at her mouth, soft and secret. He had to look away before he did something stupid, like reach across and pull her into his arms again.
By the time they reached camp, the light was fading, the sky streaked with violet and silver. The fire pit was cold, the tent right where they’d left it, nothing out of place.
Then Caesar went still, tail stiff, ears pricked toward the tree line.
Ty’s hand went instinctively to the gun at his belt—until he saw the shadow step out from behind a stand of pines. Broad shoulders. Weathered camo jacket. Rifle slung easily over one arm.
Jake Nolan.
The Ghost.
“Son of a bitch,” Ty muttered, exhaling through his nose. “Guess word travels fast.”
He swung down from his saddle, Caesar bolting forward with a bark of recognition. Jake didn’t move, didn’t smile. Just gave a short nod, face as unreadable as ever.
“Been a while,” Ty said, clasping forearms with him.
“Too long,” Jake replied, voice low but carrying. His gaze flicked past Ty to Lark, assessing, then back again. “Need a word.”
Ty’s stomach tightened. Jake never wasted words. If he were here, it wasn’t a coincidence.
He handed Lark the reins. “Unload your gear. I’ll be right there.”
She hesitated, clearly picking up on the tension between them. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice careful.
Ty followed Jake toward the far edge of camp, where the wet ground showed faint prints from earlier.
“Mountain lion?” Jake asked, crouching to inspect the ground.
“Yeah. Big male. Too close for comfort. Been hanging around the past few nights.”
Jake stood, brushing dirt off his hands.
“Got a rancher two ridges over lost three goats this week. County wants me to track it, run it off or kill it before it gets bold enough to go after people.” His eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.
“So tell me, Grady—why the hell are you camping out here with a greenhorn when you’ve got cabins a half-day downriver? ”
Ty exhaled hard and rubbed the back of his neck. There it was—the question he didn’t have a clean answer for.
“She wanted the authentic experience,” he said finally. “Wanted to prove herself. I figured—”
“You figured wrong,” Jake cut in. “You know better. There’s a reason I stopped taking tourists.”
Ty’s jaw tightened. He didn’t need the lecture. He already knew he’d made a mess of things. Professionally, emotionally, all of it.
Before he could respond, a frosty voice cut through the tension.
“Excuse me?”
Both men turned.
Lark stood a few paces away, her camera dangling forgotten at her side, her eyes wide with outrage. “We could have stayed in a cabin?”
Her voice rose with every word. “With walls? A bed? A roof?”
Ty winced. “Sweetheart, it’s not—”
“Oh, don’t you sweetheart me, Tyler Grady.” She marched closer, fury sparking in every line of her body. “You let me think that,” she pointed toward the two-person tent, “was my only option?”
Jake crossed his arms, deadpan, but there were unmistakable signs of amusement in the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Caesar plopped down beside him, tail thumping, like even the dog was settling in for the show.
Ty pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lark, I was trying to give you what you wanted. You said you wanted it real.”
“I didn’t mean miserable with wild creatures roaming, just waiting to eat us!”
Her hair was coming loose, cheeks flushed with anger—or maybe from the lingering afterglow of that kiss he couldn’t stop thinking about—and damn it, she looked beautiful even when she was ready to strangle him.
“Do you think you’ll always have cabins where you travel on photo shoots? I was trying to help,” he said quietly.
“By lying to me?”
Jake gave a low whistle under his breath. “And here I thought you’d finally found someone patient, Grady.”
“Stay out of this, Ghost,” Ty growled.
Lark crossed her arms, glaring at both of them. “Cabin. Now.”
Ty sighed, but couldn’t quite hide his smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jake’s low chuckle followed them as Ty began breaking down the tent. Caesar barked once, as if seconding her command.
As the sun dipped behind the ridge, Ty caught Lark watching him from the corner of her eye—still furious, still flushed, still the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to him.
He knew then that the next step between them wasn’t if. It was when.
And God help him, he was already past the point of no return.