Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Lark planted her fists on her hips, glaring at Ty as if sheer indignation could melt that stubborn, infuriating calm off his face.
“A cabin, Ty. You’re telling me there was an actual cabin—like, with four walls, a roof, maybe even a bed—just sitting out there while I was freezing my ass off in a pup tent with you and a dog?”
He crossed his arms, unbothered. “You said you wanted the real backcountry experience.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to die in the real backcountry experience!” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “Do you have any idea how many times I thought I was going to roll right off that sleeping pad and crush Caesar? Or freeze to death when you stole all the blankets?”
Ty’s mouth twitched, betraying a flicker of humor. “I didn’t steal the blankets. You had you down sleeping bag and plenty of blankets. Besides, you climbed on top of me.”
Her face went up in flames. “That is not the point!”
Behind him, Jake “The Ghost” Nolan leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed, watching the exchange like a man enjoying the world’s quietest comedy show. Caesar sprawled at his boots, tail wagging, clearly siding with whoever fed him last.
Lark jabbed a finger at Ty’s chest. “You could’ve mentioned there were cabins. Just a casual ‘hey, by the way, you don’t have to sleep like a sardine in a nylon sack.’”
He arched a brow. “Thought you wanted authentic. Besides, you seemed pretty comfortable climbing on top of me.”
“I wanted survivable,” she shot back, her face burning hot. “Big difference. And I had no other choice. You took up all the room!”
From behind them came a low, quiet rumble that might have been a laugh. Lark didn’t even bother looking—Jake was probably smirking, and Caesar was probably wagging his tail like this was the best entertainment he’d had in days.
Ty sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. We’ll move to the cabin. Pack up.”
That should have satisfied her. It didn’t. She muttered under her breath while shoving clothes into her pack. “Could’ve mentioned the cabin. Actual roof. Maybe a chair. Oh, nooo, let’s rough it, she said. Let’s freeze to death with the human space heater and his dog, she said. Authentic, my butt…”
By the time they broke camp and saddled up, the worst of her anger had cooled—but it hadn’t gone away.
The ride to the cabin was quiet —the kind of quiet that hummed with everything left unsaid. The rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional jingle of tack filled the air. The forest was damp from the previous day’s rain, sunlight cutting through the canopy in streaks of gold.
Lark kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at Ty even though she could feel him watching her occasionally. Every time she caught his glance from the corner of her eye, her pulse gave an unhelpful little jump.
“So,” she said finally, her tone sharper than she intended. “How long were you planning to keep this whole cabin thing a secret?”
Ty exhaled; his voice maddeningly calm. “I wasn’t hiding it. I just thought… you wanted the real deal. To prove yourself. You said you wanted authentic.”
“I didn’t mean I wanted hypothermia.”
He glanced at her, mouth quirking in what might have been amusement. “You didn’t do half bad for a city girl.”
“I would’ve done a lot better with walls.”
His smirk faded into something softer, quieter. “You handled it better than most. You should be proud.”
Her stomach fluttered—traitorously—but she scowled to cover it. “You still lied.”
“I didn’t lie. I just… didn’t tell you everything.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a side-eye. “That’s one way to spin it.”
They rode in silence again for a few minutes, the air between them taut. Then she spoke, quieter this time. “Have you lied about anything else?”
He hesitated—just a fraction, but she caught it.
“No,” he said finally. Too fast. Too smooth.
She turned her gaze on him, studying the hard line of his jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the reins. He was telling the truth—or at least a version of it—but something in his eyes made her uneasy.
“Right,” she murmured. “Because I should totally take your word for it.”
He shot her a look, half warning, half regret. “Lark…”
She shook her head. “Forget it.”
Jake rode a few lengths behind them, silent as always, but she could feel his eyes on their backs, like he knew exactly what was happening between them and was waiting for it to explode. Caesar trotted alongside Ty’s horse, occasionally looking up as if sensing the tension too.
The trail curved, opening into a clearing—and there it was.
A cabin. Less than three miles from where she’d spent two nights pretending not to shiver herself to sleep.
Okay, she wasn’t at risk of freezing to death.
It was summer, though the nights were cool.
But she would have preferred to sleep in a cabin with solid walls.
Something like what she was looking at right now.
Nestled between the trees, the log cabin looked like something out of a postcard. Cozy, perfect, civilized.
She reined in her horse and stared, jaw slack. “You mean to tell me this was right here? Right here?”
Ty dismounted beside her, hiding a grin behind his hand. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Jake led the horses to the hitching post, muttering something that might have been, “Glad I’m not in your boots,” before heading toward the corral.
Lark turned on Ty, all righteous fury and exhaustion and the remnants of something that still felt too much like want. “You, sir, are lucky you kissed me on that mountain, or I’d be packing up and heading home right now.”
His grin widened, slow and wolfish. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you stay mad enough to keep kissing me, then.”
Her stomach flipped—hard. “You’re impossible.”
He winked, stepping aside to open the cabin door with a mock bow. “And you’re stubborn. We’re even.”
She brushed past him, trying to ignore how his shoulder brushed hers as she entered the cabin. It smelled of cedar and warmth and safety—things she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until that moment.
As the door shut behind them and the soft creak of the floorboards echoed through the small space, Lark’s anger cooled into something more dangerous.
Something closer to longing.
And beneath it all, a whisper of doubt that wouldn’t quiet.
If he’d kept the cabin from her… what else was he keeping?
Dinner had been quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the back of his neck itch.
Lark hadn’t said more than a few polite words, mostly directed to Jake, her answers clipped, her gaze fixed on her plate. She’d been simmering all evening—angry, but not loud about it anymore. That was somehow worse. Her silence had weight.
Jake had taken it all in with the quiet amusement of a man who’d seen too many battles and knew when to duck for cover.
Of course, he probably enjoyed the hell out of Ty’s discomfort, like only a brother could, and Ty resisted the urge to kick his ass out so he could grovel in privacy.
Jake only smirked and shoveled the canned stew into his mouth until his plate was clean.
When he’d finally leaned back in his chair, he’d given Ty a look that said, Good luck, you’re on your own, and stood.
“I’ll bunk with the horses,” he said easily, grabbing his gear. “It’s a little warmer out there. Besides, I’m heading out before dawn. Gotta get a jump on that cat.”
Ty didn’t argue. About fucking time, actually. He just gave a short nod. “Watch yourself.”
Jake’s answering smirk was faint but knowing. “You too.”
When the door shut behind him, silence settled heavy in the cabin again. The fire popped in the hearth, throwing shadows across the rough-hewn floorboards. Caesar lifted his head from where he’d been dozing, ears twitching as if he, too, was aware the air had changed.
Lark stood by the small table, her arms crossed, her hair loose around her shoulders. The firelight played off it, turning the dark strands almost blue. She looked tired, stubborn, beautiful—and still more than a little angry.
Ty watched her for a long moment, unsure where to start. He wasn’t good at apologies. He’d always had an easy way with people, been known as the charming one of the unit. But shit, Lark had him tied in knots, and he didn’t know how to fix it. She deserved better than his silence.
“I shouldn’t have let you freeze out there,” he said finally, voice low. “Should’ve told you about the cabin.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I screwed up.”
Her arms dropped to her sides, tension still lingering in the set of her shoulders. “You made me feel stupid. Like I was some spoiled idiot who didn’t deserve to be out here. Like you were intentionally trying to make me miserable.”
Ty ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.
That was uncomfortably close to the truth.
He should come clean, but something held him back.
Her words about him making her feel safe, about everyone believing she couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t add to it.
“That wasn’t what I wanted. It’s true that you won’t always have a comfortable cabin if you want to pursue wildlife photography, and I wanted you to see what you can handle in a safe environment.
But I should have trusted you with the truth, let you decide for yourself.
You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.
I just—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“I wanted you to see you could handle it.”
Her gaze met his again, guarded. “You could’ve said that without lying to me.”
“Probably,” he said. “I’m not great at doing things the easy way.”
That earned him a quiet huff of laughter, barely there but enough to loosen the knot in his chest.
“I noticed,” she said softly.
Something in her voice tugged at him.
He nodded toward the bedroom. “You should get some rest.”