Chapter Four
Garrett
The storm isn’t letting up; if anything, it’s intensifying.
Wind rattles through the trees with furious howls, and rain pelts down mercilessly, creating torrents along the path.
Callie trembles slightly in my arms, her soaked clothes providing little warmth.
My grip tightens protectively around her as I weigh our limited options.
“Garrett?” Her voice, barely audible over the storm, carries a hint of uncertainty. “What’s the plan?”
I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling within me—not at her, but at myself for not predicting this, for not coming sooner. I glance back toward the trailhead, knowing full well we won’t make it down safely tonight. Callie’s injured ankle changes everything.
“We need to find shelter,” I say, leaning close to her ear so she can hear me clearly over the wind. “Your tent isn’t far, right?”
She nods against my shoulder, wet hair brushing against my cheek. “Just ahead, through those trees.”
Holding her securely, I press forward, fighting the harsh gusts of wind.
Every step is an effort, the ground muddy and treacherous beneath my boots.
Callie clings tighter, her body pressed firmly against mine, sending a wave of warmth through me that has nothing to do with the physical effort of carrying her.
We reach her small campsite moments later. Surprisingly, the tent, still intact, flaps violently in the wind. Carefully, I lower Callie to the ground, guiding her gently inside before following swiftly, sealing the flap tightly behind us.
Inside, it’s cramped but surprisingly cozy, shielded from the relentless storm. Callie huddles, shivering slightly, and I immediately shrug off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, smiling softly despite her obvious discomfort. “I promise, I didn’t plan this elaborate scheme just to get you alone in my tent.”
Her humor, even now, softens something inside me. I grunt, fighting a smile. “Good, because it’s not exactly an ideal situation.”
She chuckles softly, wincing slightly as she shifts position. My concern spikes again. “How’s the ankle?”
“Sore,” she admits honestly, “but I’ll manage. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I’ve noticed,” I admit quietly, reluctantly impressed by her unwavering spirit. “But you should rest.”
Silence settles between us, broken only by the storm outside and our steady breathing. In such close quarters, I’m acutely aware of every small movement she makes, every sigh, every shift of her limbs.
“So,” Callie begins lightly, breaking the tension, “are you always Pine Hollow’s designated rescuer, or am I special?”
“Special trouble, maybe,” I retort, but there’s no bite in my words. Her soft laugh eases something tight in my chest.
She shifts again, trying to find a comfortable position. I instinctively reach out, steadying her gently. My fingers linger on her shoulder a moment longer than necessary, feeling the delicate curve beneath the damp fabric.
“You should change into dry clothes. I can wait outside while you do.” It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I would love to see this woman naked.
“You can’t go out in that storm,” she smiles. “If you promise to keep your eyes closed I can quickly change into my pajamas.”
“I promise,” I say, closing my eyes tightly. I can hear her taking off her wet things, grunting as she pulls her pants around her swollen ankle. I’m more tempted to look than I’ve ever been before. There’s just something about her that has drawn me in.
“I’m dressed.”
I open my eyes and take in her oversized T-shirt and short shorts. Fuck, I might not survive this night after all. It might have been a better idea to risk going back to town.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to fit you. You need to get out of your wet things, too.” She pauses and looks at me mischievously. “You could always just take it off.”
“What?”
“I have a blanket you can use. I promise I won’t look,” she laughs.
I want to ask her if she wants to see me without my clothes, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable since we are stuck here until the storm moves on.
“Okay, you close your eyes.” I feel like a teenager, awkward with his first crush. I quickly take off my wet shirt and pants. I leave my boxer briefs on, although they aren’t hiding my reaction to her nearness. I grab the blanket she pointed out and place it across my lap.
“Open up,” I say, my voice deeper than it was a few minutes ago.
When she opens her eyes, she looks me up and down. I can see desire pooling in her eyes, and I almost pull her toward me. Then she looks away, the moment is over.
“Tell me something,” she says quietly, eyes meeting mine again, bright and curious despite the dim tent. “Why Pine Hollow? Why here?”
I hesitate, unused to sharing personal details, especially ones from my past that I prefer to keep buried. Yet there’s something about Callie—her openness, her genuine curiosity—that compels me to honesty.
“It seemed peaceful,” I begin slowly, carefully choosing my words. “I needed a fresh start after—well, after things didn’t pan out in my old life.”
“Old life?” she prods gently, sensing there’s more.
I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair. “City life. A high-stress job, a marriage that fell apart. Eventually, everything just… became too much. I wanted quiet. Pine Hollow was as far from that life as I could imagine.”
Her expression softens, understanding dawning. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, dismissing her sympathy gently. “Don’t be. Coming here was the best decision I ever made. It just means I don’t trust again easily.”
“Well,” she says softly, a gentle smile playing on her lips, “you’re trusting me enough to share that. That’s something, right?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “Maybe you’re just annoyingly persistent.”
She laughs again, and the sound warms me, easing the residual tension in my shoulders. “Guilty.”
Outside, thunder rumbles, closer now, reminding me of our vulnerability. My protective instincts flare anew. “We should rest. Tomorrow, we’ll assess the damage and figure out how to get back.”
She nods, her gaze warm. “Thanks for finding me, Garrett. Really.”
My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Anytime, Callie.”
Settling against the tent’s wall, I close my eyes, aware of her presence mere inches away. The storm rages, but inside this cramped shelter, something feels oddly right, despite the circumstances.
Callie’s soft breathing eventually steadies into sleep, her quiet murmurs oddly comforting. As I drift off, I can’t shake the realization that this stubborn, cheerful woman is slowly breaking through my carefully constructed barriers—and I’m surprisingly okay with that.