Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Lark woke to sunlight slanting through the cabin window.
For the first time in days, she was warm. Not mountain-man-furnace warm, but genuinely, comfortably warm. The bed beneath her was soft—if not quite five-star soft—and the faint scent of wood smoke and cedar hung in the air.
She stretched slowly, every muscle deliciously sore in a good way—used, awakened.
Last night had been so much more than she’d ever expected.
Ty was nothing like her usual dates, and the polar opposite of Harrison.
She felt nothing except a hint of revulsion when Harrison touched her, even the impersonal hand he placed on her lower back when they attended galas.
He tried to kiss her once. It was fleeting, dry and flat.
Nothing like Ty. His touch ignited a fire deep inside, with his calloused hands rasping over her skin and his lips kissing every inch of her.
She didn’t think she could ever get enough of him.
But it was more than physical. Ty cared about her.
He wasn’t demanding her entire focus be on him.
He sat back and let her concentrate on her pictures.
He carried her extra camera bag and shifted their angle without even asking.
And while she took her photos, he waited patiently, no matter how long it took.
Once, as she waited for a fawn to emerge from its mother’s side, she glanced back and saw Ty watching just as intently, as if he was as intrigued as she was. She could see herself as partners with him, not an accessory, trotted out on special occasions.
Her lips curved as she rolled onto her side, reaching out for the solid heat she expected to find beside her.
Her hand met only cool sheets. She blinked, propping herself on one elbow. The other side of the bed was empty, the blankets rumpled, Ty’s pillow already cold.
A flicker of disappointment rippled through her chest, but she pushed it down.
He was probably outside, checking the horses or helping Jake get ready to track the mountain lion.
Still, she’d hoped—just for a little while—that maybe he’d stayed.
That she’d wake up in his arms again, like the night before.
Besides, they had to get moving. She had pictures to take.
Then she heard voices.
Low at first, muffled through the walls, but unmistakable. One was Ty’s—calm, rough-edged. The other was deeper, sharper, and carried an edge of anger.
Lark frowned, pulling the quilt around her as she sat up.
“…the hell were you thinking, Grady?”
That wasn’t Jake.
It took her a second to place the voice—Luke. The company owner. The man she had reached out to when she coordinated the whole tour.
Her pulse spiked.
She slid off the bed, pulling on one of Ty’s flannel shirts from the chair by the door—it hung halfway to her thighs and smelled like him. She slipped on her jeans and opened the door quietly until she could see into the main room.
Luke stood near the table, broad and furious, his weather-beaten hat still in his hand. Ty faced him, tense and unflinching, though guilt flickered across his face when Luke’s voice rose again.
“I get a call from Prescott himself last night asking for an update. What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know what that does to me, Ty? You took his damn deal behind my back? Making his daughter’s trip a nightmare to scare her off? You could’ve sunk my whole business!”
Lark froze.
For a moment, she didn’t breathe. The words didn’t make sense. Her father. Deal. Nightmare.
No, he didn’t do that. He swore… wait. He hadn’t actually said that he hadn’t lied about anything else. She just assumed he had told her everything. Damn him. He’d tricked her.
Ty’s jaw worked, but his voice was quiet. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”
Luke barked a bitter laugh. “Seriously? And when did you think you were going to stop? Before or after you fucked her? You think Prescott’s gonna let that slide?”
The sound of a fist meeting flesh echoed in the room, and furniture overturned.
Lark’s stomach twisted. Heat rushed to her face—not the kind from desire this time, but humiliation.
She stepped forward before she had time to think.
Luke had a trickle of blood coming out of one side of his mouth, and he was pinned against the wall, Ty leaning over him.
She glared at them, her voice sharp, with only a hint of shaking. “What did you just say?”
Both men turned, Luke’s apologetic and Ty’s guilty.
The color drained from Ty’s face. “Lark—”
She didn’t let him finish, advancing as he backpedaled. “You took a deal from my father?”
He stopped just shy of the sidewall and held up his hands. “Let me explain—”
“Explain?” Her voice cracked, then rose. “You lied to me. Every single thing you said, every touch, every kiss. Was any of it real?”
“Lark, it wasn’t like that. Of course it was real,” he said quietly. “I—your father made it sound like he wanted to keep you safe. He said—”
“He said?” She laughed, but it came out broken. “You didn’t even question it? You just took his money and played along?”
Luke shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting his timing, but Lark didn’t care. The room felt too small, the air too close, the fire still crackling in the hearth like mockery.
“I trusted you,” she whispered. “You made me feel safe. I fell for you, and the whole time you were working for him.”
Ty flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “It started that way, yeah,” he admitted, voice rough. “But it changed. You changed it. I swear to God, Lark, I never meant to hurt you.”
She shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. You did.”
Silence filled the cabin, thick and suffocating. Even Caesar, sitting by the door, whined softly, ears flat.
Lark backed away, her chest heaving. “Don’t follow me.”
“Lark—”
“I mean it.” Her voice trembled, but her glare was steady. “You don’t get to fix this. Not this time.”
She slipped into her boots, grabbed her jacket off the chair and her camera, then pushed out the door before either man could say another word, slamming it behind her for emphasis. Maybe they would get the message not to follow her.
The cold morning air hit her like a slap, but she didn’t stop.
Behind her, the cabin door creaked, then shut softly, and she thought she heard Ty’s voice—low, desperate—but she couldn’t make out the words.
She just kept walking.
Because if she stopped, she might turn around. And she wasn’t sure she could survive forgiving him.
Ty was out the door before the echo of her footsteps faded, desperation fueling his every step.
“Lark!”
She didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance back. Her figure cut through the gray morning like a slash of color, her hair loose, her jacket half-zipped. She was moving fast—faster than she should’ve with the ground still slick from last night’s rain.
“Dammit,” he muttered, jogging after her. “Lark, just—listen!”
She spun around so fast he almost ran straight into her. Her eyes blazed, cheeks flushed with cold and fury. “Don’t you dare come any closer!”
He stopped short, breath misting in the chill air. The distance between them felt miles wide.
“Please,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “Just let me explain—”
“Explain what, Ty?” she shouted, the sound sharp and cracking like gunfire in the thin mountain air. “That you took money to make me miserable? That every time you said something kind, it was part of the job? That every time you touched me, you were thinking about your next paycheck?”
“No.” He took a step forward despite her warning. “That’s not how it was.”
She laughed—a brittle, wounded sound. “Funny. Sounds exactly like that to me.”
He wanted to reach for her, to grab her shoulders and make her look at him, make her see. But one look at her—eyes glassy, trembling with rage and heartbreak—and he froze.
“Lark,” he said quietly, “I didn’t know it’d go like this. Your dad made it sound like he was worried about you. Like he wanted me to keep you safe, not—”
Her breath hitched. “Not what? Not break me?”
The words sliced through him like a blade.
He opened his mouth, desperate for something—anything—that would make her stay, make her understand.
But nothing came out. Deep down, she wasn’t wrong.
He’d taken the job. He’d taken one look at her and knew she didn’t belong out here.
He thought it would be easy. A couple of nights in the elements.
A few days of hard hiking. She would fold, begging to get back to her comfortable bed, soft life, city world.
But she had surprised him, and she didn’t believe him now. He couldn’t really blame her.
That silence was enough. She shook her head, her expression shattering before his eyes. “You used me,” she whispered. “You made me believe you cared.”
“I do,” he said, the words rough, useless. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”
“Then you should’ve told me the truth.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and before he could move again, she turned and started walking toward the stables where Luke was waiting by the cabin door, his posture stiff and protective.
“Lark!”
She ignored him.
Ty took a step after her—but Luke stepped in between them, his hand pressing into Ty’s chest, hard.
“Don’t,” Luke said, his voice low and lethal. “You’ve done enough.”
Ty pushed at him, anger surging. “She’s walking away, half-crazy with anger and grief, with no survival skills, and there’s a damn mountain lion prowling these ridges. You really think I’m just gonna let her go?”
Luke’s grip tightened. “You think I’m gonna let you follow her after what you pulled? Not a chance. You broke her trust, Ty. You don’t get to fix it.”
Ty yanked his arm free, fists clenched. “I’m the only one who can fix it. She doesn’t know the whole story.”
“Then tell it to yourself while you pack your gear,” Luke snapped. “You’re done. I’ll take her back down to the ranch. Head home.”
The words hit harder than a punch.
He wanted to argue, to fight, to make it right—but he couldn’t find the strength. Not when he could still see the hurt on Lark’s face burned into his memory.
Luke gave him one last look—grim, almost pitying. “You’re a good man, Ty. But you screwed the pooch on this one.”
And then he turned, striding toward the stables where Lark had disappeared.
After several minutes, Lark rode out of the stables on her horse, alone, without looking back.
Caesar lingered near the porch, his head bouncing between Ty and Lark, whining softly until Ty called him over. Even the damn dog was confused.
After a few minutes, Luke headed after her, slower, as if to give her space, but keep an eye on her. He’d have to move faster than that if he wanted to protect Lark.
“Luke, watch out for her, okay? Jake headed out after the mountain lion. I don’t know where it is, but it’s been hanging around us.”
Luke gave him a short nod and rode off in the direction of Lark’s rapidly receding horse.
The silence that followed their departure was deafening. He was left behind, useless, abandoned. A total fuck-up. Again.
Just like with Tony and Afghanistan. He had fucked up there, too.
Recon specialist. He should have seen the danger.
Known what his unit was walking into, realized what Tony had gotten himself involved in.
He should have seen something was off with his brother.
And once the firefight was over, how had missed that Tony was gone?
He rubbed the scar on his side that still ached like a motherfucker in the damp cold. Of the three bullets he took that day. But he would have taken more to save Tony.
And now he had fucked up again with Lark by misreading the situation, not understanding her, and leading her into danger.
Ty leaned against the porch post, dragging a hand over his face. His chest felt hollow, like the mountains themselves had carved him out from the inside.
He’d told himself he’d never get attached again. Never let anyone get close enough to matter.
And then Lark Prescott had walked into his life, smiled that stubborn smile, and proved him wrong.
Now she was gone—and he had no one to blame but himself.