Chapter 3
Delilah
The mountain scenery blurs past the truck”s windows as we wind along the narrow road, the dense evergreen trees giving way to sweeping vistas that take my breath away. I can”t decide if the knot in my stomach is from the hairpin turns or the unresolved tension crackling between Stylz and me.
”Beautiful, isn”t it?” he remarks. ” I”ve lived in Silverpine my whole life, but I”ll never get tired of these views.”
I nod mutely, drinking in the majestic scenery. This place has a raw, untamed beauty, a stark contrast to the polished sophistication of my world. And yet, I find myself drawn to it in a way I can”t quite explain.
”This place has a way of growing on you, doesn”t it?” The words slip out in a hushed murmur before I can stop them.
Stylz”s smile widens ever so slightly. ”Just the place?” he counters, his voice thick with unmistakable suggestion.
I roll my eyes, but there”s no real malice behind the gesture. ”The people too, I guess,” I admit with a rueful grin.
Like a moth to a flame, I”m helplessly drawn to this man and the life he represents. This sudden desire to abandon everything I”ve worked for and start over should terrify me. But there”s also an undeniable thrill to it, a tantalizing promise of freedom and new horizons.
After a few minutes of silence, he speaks again. ”Can I ask you something?”
”I guess so.”
”You seem...” He pauses, like he”s carefully considering his words. ”Tense. Wound up. What”s got you so uptight?”
His words catch me off guard, mostly because there”s no trace of his usual teasing this time. For once, he sounds genuinely curious rather than purposefully provocative.
”I”m a lawyer,” I say at last, keeping my tone brisk and professional. ”It’s a hazard of the job.”
”Sure,” he concedes easily. ”But even lawyers have an off switch sometimes, don”t they? You can”t tell me you don”t ever let that wild side out to play.”
He punctuates the statement with a wicked grin, no doubt thinking back to our heated tryst the night before. I feel my cheeks flush at the memory, and I”m grateful when the truck slows to a stop in front of a rustic flower shop with a cheerfully lopsided sign and overflowing window boxes that seem to burst with more blooms than should be physically possible.
Stylz pulls the truck into the gravel lot and kills the engine. Pushing open the door, I slide out of the truck and follow him to the door.
A bell jingles as we step inside. The sweet fragrance of wildflowers and fresh greenery instantly envelops us.
”Well, hello there!” A cheery woman with streaks of silver in her dark hair emerges from a back room, dusting potting soil from her hands. “How can I help you folks today?”
”We”re here to pick up some centerpiece arrangements for the Croft-Delgado wedding,” Stylz explains.
”Of course, of course!” The woman”s face falls slightly. ”I”m afraid they won”t be quite ready for another hour or so. My supplier was running late this morning.”
My shoulders sag with a sigh. So much for a quick, painless errand. ”I guess we”ll come back—”
”Actually...” Stylz cuts me off, resting a hand at the small of my back. The unexpected contact makes me stiffen. ”Why don”t we take a little walk while we wait? There are some trails just up the road that offer amazing views.”
I blink at him, caught off guard by the suggestion. ”A walk? In these clothes?”
But the woman”s eyes light up at his words. ”Oh, he”s right, dear! The Pine Ridge Trail is absolutely breathtaking this time of year.”
”Oh, what the hell.” I blow out a resigned breath, already regretting the decision. ”Lead the way, mountain man.”
The trail is, admittedly, stunning—a winding dirt path carved into the mountainside, flanked by towering pines and the occasional babbling brook. Wildflowers seem to burst from every nook and crevice in the rocks.
I do my best to keep up with Stylz”s long, confident strides, but the uneven terrain isn”t exactly made for high heels. More than once, I stumble, clutching his arm to steady myself.
”You”re sure enjoying this, aren”t you?” I huff as he waits for me to regain my footing.
”What”s not to enjoy?” He sweeps his arm out, gesturing to the scenery around us. ”Fresh mountain air, total serenity...” His gaze drops briefly to where I”m gripping his bicep, and a lopsided smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. ”Beautiful company.”
I roll my eyes, but I don”t release his arm just yet. ”This is all a bit much for me,” I admit, unable to keep the slight edge of self-deprecation from my tone.
To my surprise, Stylz”s expression turns serious. ”Don”t sell yourself short, Delilah.”
The sound of my name on his lips, stripped of any teasing endearments, sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. I blink up at him owlishly, momentarily stunned into silence.
He continues, ”You seem like a woman who can handle just about anything she sets her mind to.”
I open my mouth, ready to deflect the unexpected compliment. But then I remember the opportunity I”ve been offered here in Silverpine, and the words die on my lips.
Could I really trade in the cutthroat corporate world for a simpler life in this charming mountain town? It seems unfathomable, yet the more time I spend here, the more it calls to me in a way I can”t quite explain.
Before I can gather my thoughts, Stylz is already moving ahead, his long strides carrying him toward a small wooden bridge arched over a gurgling stream.
Rolling my eyes, I hurry to catch up with him, the rocks shifting treacherously beneath my high heels. I manage to make it to the bridge without incident, but I hesitate at the edge, eyeing the rickety wooden slats with trepidation.
”Oh, no. No way am I crossing that death trap in these shoes.”
”Where”s your sense of adventure?” Stylz counters, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
I huff out an indignant breath. ”I must have misplaced it somewhere between the corporate mergers and client meetings.”
Stylz chuckles. ”Well, we”d better get it back, then.”
Before I can puzzle out what he means, Stylz bends and sweeps me into his arms in one fluid motion, cradling me against his chest. I let out an undignified squeak of surprise that quickly melts into breathless laughter as he easily strides across the rickety bridge.
”Put me down, you caveman!” I demand without any real conviction, unable to keep the smile from my face.
Stylz just grins down at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ”What, you”d rather risk breaking an ankle?”
”Better that than being manhandled by a mountain man!” I try for an indignant huff, but it comes out more like a breathless giggle.
He gently sets me down on the bridge”s far side, his hands lingering at my waist a beat longer than necessary. ”There. All in one piece, princess.”
I roll my eyes but can”t deny the thrill that shoots through me at his touch, at the casual endearment that should grate on my nerves but somehow doesn”t. Clearing my throat, I bend to slip off my shoes, reveling in the feeling of the cool dirt between my bare toes.
”That”s more like it,” Stylz remarks with an appreciative sweep of his gaze. ”You look way more comfortable now.”
”Don”t get used to it,” I quip, tossing my hair over one shoulder. ”This is just temporary insanity.”
But even as the words leave my lips, I can”t help but savor the simple pleasure of being barefoot in nature, surrounded by the crisp scent of pine and wildflowers. It”s freeing, in a way my regimented city life rarely allows.
We continue along the trail, my steps lighter and more confident now. Stylz keeps pace easily, his rangy frame exuding a casual grace that makes me wonder just how at home he must feel out here.
Eventually, the trail opens up to a breathtaking vista—a grassy plateau dotted with wildflowers, offering an unobstructed view of the jagged peaks and snow-capped mountaintops in the distance. I come to an abrupt halt, drinking in its sheer, rugged beauty.
”Wow,” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away. ”It”s like something out of a painting.”
Stylz steps up beside me, so close that the sleeves of his flannel brush against my bare arm. ”You should see it at sunrise,” he murmurs, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. ”The way the light hits those peaks... it”s like the whole world is on fire.”
I turn to look at him, caught off guard by the unexpected poetry of his words. His gaze is trained on the horizon, but there”s a softness to his expression, a sense of reverence and appreciation that I”ve never seen from him before.
In that moment, I glimpse the man beneath the bravado and teasing remarks—a man deeply attuned to the wild beauty surrounding him, a true steward of these mountains. And something inside me seems to shift.
Like a door I didn”t even realize was closed is finally creaking open, just a sliver.
Stylz must sense my regard because he tears his eyes away from the view to meet my gaze head-on. There”s an intensity there that steals my breath, an unspoken yearning that has nothing to do with the scenery and everything to do with the sudden, heated tension sparking between us.
My lips part on a shaky inhale as he steps closer, lifting one hand to brush a stray curl away from my face. I should step back, put some distance between us before this goes any further. But I”m rooted to the spot, caught in the pull of his stare.
”Delilah...” he breathes, so softly it”s nearly swallowed by the whisper of the wind.
His phone rings, the shrill tone shattering the heavy silence and the tense moment.
Stylz curses under his breath, pulling away to fish the device from his pocket. ”Yeah?” His voice is a low rumble as he answers the call.
I exhale a ragged breath, my heart still pounding as I try to regain my composure. What the hell just happened? Our tryst in the bar bathroom was supposed to be a one-time fling, a moment of reckless abandon before returning to reality. I can”t be developing actual feelings for this man.
This sudden longing, this bone-deep yearning... it has to be temporary insanity brought on by the crisp mountain air and Stylz”s rugged charm.
Doesn”t it?
He ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket, regarding me with an inscrutable look. ”That was the florist. She”s got the centerpieces ready for us.”
”Oh.” The word comes out sounding smaller than I”d intended, almost disappointed. I clear my throat, squaring my shoulders in a feeble attempt to regain my dignity. ”Well, I suppose we should head back then.”
He nods, already turning to lead the way back down the trail. But there”s a lingering heat to his gaze that suggests our earlier moment is far from forgotten.
The walk back is quiet, the only sounds our footsteps crunching through the underbrush and the occasional birdcall piercing the stillness. I trail slightly behind Stylz, needing the space to sort through the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions swirling inside me.
What is it about this place—about him—that makes me want to let my carefully constructed walls crumble? God, the very idea of getting tangled up with the man should have me running for the hills. He”s brash, arrogant, and seems to take immense pleasure in getting under my skin at every turn.
But there are glimpses of something deeper there, too. A steadiness, a connection to this land and everything it represents. An authenticity that has been so glaringly absent from my own life for longer than I care to admit.
By the time we reach the flower shop once more, I”m no closer to figuring out what I’m going to do. Stylz holds the door for me, that infuriatingly charming half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
The bell above the door jingles as we step inside, announcing our arrival. The older woman emerges from the back room, beaming at the sight of us.
”Well, there you two are!” she exclaims, gesturing to a large, breathtaking arrangement of wildflowers and lush greenery. ”Aren”t these just lovely?”
”They”re gorgeous,” I murmur, reaching out to trail my fingertips over the soft petals. ”Daisy”s going to love them.”
”I certainly hope so,” the woman agrees with a warm smile. ”You know, you two make such a lovely couple yourselves. The way he looks at you...” She shakes her head dreamily. ”Why, it reminds me of how my Frank used to gaze at me back when we were just starry-eyed kids.”
I open my mouth, fully prepared to correct her mistaken assumption. But the words seem to catch in my throat as I glance over at Stylz and find that same heated intensity in his stare, that undeniable spark of... something.
He holds my gaze for a beat too long before turning to the shopkeeper with an easy grin. ”My girl certainly keeps me on my toes, that”s for sure.”
The words are clearly meant in jest, a playful deflection to avoid an awkward situation. But something about how he says it—the casual intimacy, the underlying affection—makes my breath hitch despite myself.
The older woman laughs, utterly charmed. ”Well, you two just take good care of each other, you hear?”
Her words seem to take on a weighted significance as Stylz”s gaze finds mine once more. Those green eyes hold mine for a heavy moment.
I should look away, deflect with a casual remark or teasing quip of my own, put an end to whatever this is before it goes any further.
But those steadfast green eyes hold me transfixed, sparking with the promise of new adventures and experiences beyond anything my carefully regimented life has offered so far.
And suddenly, I”m not quite ready to let that possibility go.