Chapter 3
Daisy
The rhythmic crunch of our boots against the rocky trail fills the crisp mountain air as we press on toward the base of the Fang. My calves burn with that delicious, fiery ache that comes from a solid uphill grind, but I push through, determined to hold pace with Wyatt.
I may have proven I can hang so far, but I”m far from done. This is only the beginning.
My gaze drifts up to the imposing granite spire looming closer with every step. Its jagged, unforgiving silhouette scrapes the horizon, and a thrill races through me.
Wyatt glances over his shoulder, dark eyes studying me in that intense way of his. There”s a new glint behind them—respect, maybe? Whatever it is, it only stokes the flames of my determination. I meet that smoldering stare head-on, quirking a brow in silent challenge.
”Not too late to turn back,” he rumbles.
Rather than rising to his bait, I simply laugh, loud and uninhibited. ”Face it, Croft, you”re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
Wyatt holds my stare for a beat before turning forward again, but not before I catch the faint quirk of his lips.
We fall into a steady cadence, the only sounds our rhythmic footfalls and the ragged draw of our breaths. Despite the grueling pace, I find myself relishing the simplicity of it all—the singular focus on putting one foot in front of the other, the world narrowed down to nothing but me, this mountain, and the man striding beside me.
”So, how”d a city girl like you end up wandering the wild?” Wyatt”s gruff voice snaps me from my introspective trance.
I can”t help the wry grin that tugs my lips as I shake my head. ”Is it that obvious?”
Rather than answering directly, he simply arches one dark brow.
”Let”s just say the concrete jungle wasn”t really my scene.” I shrug one shoulder, keeping my tone purposefully nonchalant.
Wyatt seems to sense the shift, his features sobering slightly. ”How so?” he asks.
Before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling out, fueled by that strange intimacy this untamed expanse seems to breed. ”I spent most of my childhood cooped up in a shoebox apartment in the heart of the city, sharing a room with all my siblings and dreaming about wide open spaces like this.”
I sweep my arms out, gesturing to the endless stretch of rugged peaks and valleys sprawling around us. ”Somedays, it felt like those four dingy walls were closing in, suffocating me. So I got out the first chance I had. Traded it all in to live out of a van and chase adventures on the open road.”
Wyatt”s eyes widen slightly at this admission, intrigued. ”You”re living in a van? Seriously?”
I nod, unable to stop my smile from widening at his surprise. ”Yep, just me, my trusty van, and the wilderness. Best decision I ever made.”
He considers this for a moment, curiosity evident. ”But don”t you ever want... I dunno, to put down roots somewhere? Have a real home base?”
I shrug, used to the question but still not sure how to answer. ”It may not be the most conventional setup, but out here on the road, exploring new places? That”s where I feel most at peace, most free.”
Wyatt”s quiet for a long moment beside me, digesting my words. When he speaks again, his deep rumble is laced with a surprising gentleness. ”Well, whatever drove you out here, I gotta hand it to you—you”ve got skills, Delgado. Not many greenhorns would make it this far without crapping out.”
A surprised laugh bubbles up from my chest at his typical lack of delicacy. ”Gee, you sure know how to make a girl swoon.” I bump his shoulder with mine playfully. ”But I”ll take it.”
Wyatt”s eyes crinkle at the corners. ”Don”t get too cocky yet. We”re just getting started.”
Conversation dwindles as the trail kicks up again, growing steeper as we draw closer to the Fang”s sheer granite face. We fall into our rhythm again, and I dig my boots into the rocky path, muscles straining against the punishing incline.
Wyatt glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he surveys the path ahead. ”Watch your step up here. Looks like a recent rockslide left this ridge a damn minefield.”
Sure enough, the trail narrows into a precarious ridge crossing, the path littered with loose shale and unstable rubble. One wrong move could easily send us sliding hundreds of feet down that steep precipice. My pulse kicks up a notch.
Rather than looking deterred, Wyatt simply sets his jaw. ”Stay right behind me and only step where I step.”
He takes the lead, carefully picking his way across the hazardous crossing with a mountain goat”s sure-footedness. I trail in his wake, matching his precise movements with laser focus.
About halfway across, the path bottlenecks around a particularly unstable patch. Wyatt pauses, studying the treacherous stretch for a long beat. Finally, he glances over his shoulder at me. ”Delgado, you”re gonna want to—”
His instructions are cut short as a dislodged rock suddenly shifts beneath my boot. In a heartbeat, my world tilts sickeningly as I lose my tenuous foothold on that razor”s edge.
A startled cry tears from my lips as I pinwheel backward, grasping at empty air. This is it—one false move, and I”m about to become a permanent addition to this godforsaken mountain.
Then, just as the yawning chasm threatens to swallow me whole, a powerful arm wraps around my waist, hauling me flush against a rock-solid chest with a bone-jarring force that drives the breath from my lungs.
I blink dazedly, finding myself staring straight into Wyatt”s rugged, chiseled features mere inches from my own. His arm is an unbreakable vise cinched around my midsection, the only thing anchoring me to solid ground.
”Easy there.” The words are a low, guttural rasp, his warm breath fanning across my parted lips. ”I”ve got you.”
For a moment, neither of us moves, the world seeming to grind to a halt. Wyatt”s intense stare bores into me, sparking heat low in my core.
Then, as swiftly as it began, the moment”s over. Wyatt clears his throat, releasing me from his iron grip. The sudden loss of his body”s solid weight against me leaves me unbalanced, reeling.
I force myself to take a deep, steadying breath, trying like hell to ignore the thunderous pounding in my chest. ”Uh... thanks for the save.”
”Don”t mention it.” Wyatt”s already turning away, his broad shoulders squared as he refocuses on the path ahead. ”Just watch your footing from here on out.”
We make our way across the rest of the ridge crossing without incident, finally arriving at a small, grassy hanging valley nestled between the granite spires. Shrugging off my pack, I take in our surroundings with a deep, satisfied breath.
”Not a bad spot to make camp, huh?” I gesture to the pristine alpine meadow, ringed by soaring granite walls that seem to glow orange in the fading evening light.
Wyatt grunts his agreement as he sets to work unpacking his gear, that familiar intense focus etched across his rugged features. I can”t seem to tear my eyes from the flex and pull of those broad, muscular shoulders as he works. Christ, this man is a walking thirst trap.
Shaking myself from my hormone-addled daze, I set up my tent and gather some kindling to start our fire pit. By the time I”ve got the crackling flames dancing, Wyatt”s finished with his tasks, settling across from me on a nearby rock.
For a few beats, we sit in surprisingly comfortable silence, the soft crackle of burning wood filling the stillness. My eyes keep wandering over to study the man beside me, taking in the sharp angles of his jaw and the way those tousled chestnut locks fall across his brow.
Clearing my throat roughly, I tear my wandering gaze away, refocusing instead on the mesmerizing sway of the flames. ”So, Croft... you know my story. What about yours? How did you end up out here living the life of a lone wolf in the wilds of Silverpine?”
The flickering flames dance across Wyatt”s chiseled features as he seems to mull over my question. For a beat, I don”t think he”s going to answer—that same stoic, guarded look clouding his eyes.
Just as I”m about to brush it off, he lets out a low, rumbling sigh. ”It”s not a very interesting story.”
I shrug one shoulder, offering a small smile. ”Well, we don”t exactly have anything else to do tonight.”
Wyatt holds my stare for a moment longer before giving the faintest nod. ”Fair enough.”
Tearing his eyes from mine, he reaches for a stick and prods at the crackling flames, buying himself a few extra seconds of silence. When he finally speaks again, his deep timbre seems to vibrate with a quiet intensity.
”I didn”t really have a normal childhood, you know?” He lets out a rueful chuckle, eyes distant. ”Bounced around the system, foster home to foster home. The mountains were the only real constant in my life.”
My brows lift in surprise at this unexpected glimpse into the man”s past. I stay quiet, letting him continue at his own pace.
”The wilds were more home to me than any four walls ever were. Still are.” He glances up at me, a wistful sort of smile ghosting across those full lips. ”Out here, it”s just me against the mountain, stripped down to the most basic elements of survival. No distractions, no bullshit, just pure, untamed freedom.”
There”s a beat of silence as I watch the play of shadows dancing across the hard planes of his face, trying to picture a young Wyatt tearing around these peaks with reckless abandon. The image makes me smile despite myself.
”So you”re telling me you were just born this way?”
Wyatt blinks, his intense stare snapping back to me with a mixture of surprise and—dare I say it—amusement.
”That”s one way to put it,” he rumbles, the barest hint of a smile tugging at those sinful lips.
We lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence again, the only sounds the crackle of burning wood and the distant call of a lone hawk soaring high overhead.
Unable to resist, I sneak another sidelong glance at the rugged man beside me. Gone is the gruff, standoffish vibe he”s been giving off since I arrived. In its place is a quiet openness, an ease about him in these wild surroundings.
Almost like he”s finally letting his guard down a little.
Wyatt must sense my stare because he shifts slightly, pinning me with his eyes. ”What are you thinking?
”Just trying to picture you all tousled and tan as a kid, tearing around these mountains like a little hellion.”
One dark brow arches high as Wyatt lets out a low chuckle. ”Oh, I was definitely a handful. The number of times my foster parents had to send search and rescue out to drag my ass home...”
His words trail off, but there”s a story there—I can feel it. But I know better than to push. Instead, I let the moment breathe, simply watching in silence as the flames cast their flickering glow across Wyatt”s face.
The easy flow of conversation finally ebbs as the last streaks of fiery sunset bleed into inky twilight. Wyatt makes his way over to the smoldering embers and crouches beside me without a word, busying himself with stoking the dying flames back to life.
I open my mouth to tease him about not being able to sit still, but the words die in my throat as he shifts closer to the growing fire. The flickering glow casts his chiseled features in stark, sensual relief—the hard cut of his jawline, the smoldering intensity behind those eyes...
Lord, even coated in a day”s worth of grit and sweat, this man is unfairly gorgeous.
I tear my gaze away before I can get too lost in ogling him, focusing instead on the mesmerizing dance of the flames and reflecting on everything that”s transpired today.
From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew Wyatt would be a tough nut to crack. And yet, over the course of this single day, I”ve already started to glimpse hints of the passion burning behind those gruff exterior walls. The way his face lit up when talking about his love for these mountains, the surprisingly playful side that emerged once he let his guard down around me...
I shake my head, unable to stifle the grin spreading across my face. Looks like Wyatt Croft”s turning out to be one hell of a multi-layered man, full of unexpected depths and hidden fires.
And something tells me I”ve only started to scratch the surface.
As the night chill begins to seep through my layers, I can”t suppress the slight shiver that racks my frame.
Wyatt”s head swivels toward me. ”Cold?”
I wave off his concern. ”I”m good.”
Another shiver wracks my frame as the mountain chill sinks deeper into my bones. I try to play it cool, wrapping my arms around my midsection, but Wyatt”s perceptive gaze doesn”t miss a thing.
”Bullshit.” His deep rumble cuts through the crackling silence, equal parts amused and chastising.
I open my mouth to protest, but he”s already rising to his feet. ”C”mon, you”re gonna freeze your ass off out here like that.”
Without another word, he turns and disappears into the shadows, the faint beam of his headlamp swallowed by the night.
I sit there, dumbfounded for a beat, before scrambling to my feet and hurrying after him. ”Wait, Croft—where the hell are you going?”
His low chuckle drifts back toward me as the beam of his lamp bobs into view again. ”Relax, Delgado. Just get your stuff and follow me.”
With an exaggerated huff, I stomp back over to my tent and hastily cram my sleeping bag into its compression sack before shouldering my pack. By the time I”ve gathered my things, Wyatt”s already holding the flap of his tent open, one brow arched expectantly as I approach.
”You can”t be serious.” I eye the cramped quarters of his single-person tent, suddenly feeling self-conscious in a way I can”t quite explain.
”What? It can”t be any smaller than your van.”
”Yeah, but I”m alone in my van, not crammed in there with some huge mountain man,” I shoot back, unable to stop the playful lilt in my tone.
Wyatt”s eyes dance with amusement as he gives an overdramatic sigh. ”We”ll see if you’re still complaining about the tight fit tomorrow morning.”
With a wink, he ducks into the tiny tent, leaving me flustered and a little breathless in his wake. Damn mountain man and his flirty games.
With an overly dramatic eyeroll, I duck under the open flap and crawl inside.
Immediately, the heavy scent of campfire smoke and earthy musk surrounds me, thick and heady. Wyatt follows right behind me. I shift onto my side, trying to make room as he settles in beside me with a low grunt, our bodies pressed together from shoulder to calf. Every inch of my hyper-aware skin feels like it”s humming with electricity from his closeness.
Wyatt doesn”t seem the least bit fazed by our intimate proximity as he unzips his sleeping bag, draping it over us both like a shared cocoon. The sudden enveloping warmth sends a shudder through me that has nothing to do with the lingering chill.
”Better?” His low rumble vibrates against my back, hot breath fanning across the nape of my neck.
”Mmhmm.” It”s all I can manage with my throat feeling so suddenly tight.
For a few beats, we lay there in tense silence. I can feel the steady rise and fall of his broad chest against my back, the solid weight of one muscular arm draped across my midsection in a loose embrace.
How the hell am I supposed to sleep like this? Every nerve ending feels like it”s been set ablaze, hyper-aware of the man pressed against me. I”ve never felt so deliciously caged in my life.
But eventually, my eyelids grow heavy as the exhaustion from today”s grueling trek seeps into my very bones. Wyatt”s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm against my back, each breath fanning across the sensitive skin of my neck. I can”t resist leaning into that solid warmth just a fraction more, my body”s own treacherous craving for his closeness.
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrates against me. ”Comfy?”
I stiffen, heat flooding my cheeks. ”Shut up,” I mutter, struggling to maintain a shred of nonchalance.
Another soft huff of laughter, this one dangerously close to my ear. ”Just get some sleep, Delgado.” His arm tightens incrementally around my waist, pulling me flush against the hard planes of his body. ”You”re gonna need it for what I”ve got planned tomorrow.”
With that delicious promise lingering in the air, my heavy lids drift shut, letting the steady thump of Wyatt”s heartbeat against my back lull me into a deep, untroubled sleep.