Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
We emerged from the treeline into an open clearing, and I froze. The sky blazed with streaks of amber and rose as the first rays of sunlight crept over the jagged edge of the horizon. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, peering through my phone’s viewfinder to make sure I was capturing it all.
The mountains stretched endlessly, snow-capped peaks catching fire in the light of dawn.
Wisps of clouds turned to spun gold, and the valley below us filled with a purple haze.
“Stay right there,” I said, backing up a few steps.
This time, Noah didn’t dodge away when I pointed the camera in his direction. He stood at the edge of the clearing, Yeti sitting proudly beside him, both of them silhouetted against the blazing sky.
I captured dozens of photos, then switched to video. The sun continued its slow climb, painting everything in impossible colors, as if cast from a wizard’s spell. The mountains stretched endlessly, each peak wearing a different crown of clouds.
“Victoria wanted authentic content? Wait until she sees this,” I said. “She’s going to lose her mind.”
I couldn’t even believe what I was seeing through my camera lens. I began calculating the number of likes and shares in my head.
“You’re missing it, you know,” said Noah.
I looked at him through my viewfinder. “Missing what?”
“The actual view.” Noah walked over and gently nudged my phone down out of my face. He put both hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “See?”
I did see. Looking at everything in front of me, unfiltered, took things to a whole other level.
“What do you think?”
“This is …” All I could manage was a nod, rendered speechless by mountains and sky bigger than any post could capture, more beautiful than any caption could describe.
“Beautiful.” Noah finished, his voice soft beside me.
“Yeah,” I said simply. “This might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Worth getting up at four AM?” Noah asked, finally pulling his hands away from my shoulders.
“Totally.” Even though they’d only been there a few seconds, the absence of his touch was like missing a limb.
We just stood there for a moment, side by side.
Not talking. Barely breathing.
Just soaking up the scene.
Placing my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun, I saw something in the distance. “What’s that?” It looked like a small wooden structure on the side of a mountain, nestled amongst the trees. “People live out here?”
“That’s an old fishing cabin. There’s a bunch of them scattered all over the mountain.”
“I bet the view with your morning coffee doesn’t suck. People rent them out?”
“Used to. They were part of the original lodge before LuxeLife shut ‘em all down.”
“Why would they shut them down?”
“No gourmet kitchen,” he quipped. “Also, no running water. Victoria didn’t think her LuxeLife clientele would appreciate roughing it.”
The parallel between the old cabins and the Adventure Center hung in the brisk mountain air between us. Noah didn’t say anything. But he didn’t have to. It was a good reminder of why we were even out there to begin with.
The sun fully crested the mountain ridge, bathing everything in golden light. I couldn’t stop staring at the way it caught the edges of the clouds, turning them into floating rivers of fire.
“I better get some more pictures.”
“Good idea.”
When Noah stepped away, I was suddenly very much aware of the altitude.
It felt like all the oxygen got sucked right off the top of the mountain.
It took all my mental fortitude to pull my eyes away when he knelt down on the ground beside his backpack.
You know, so I wouldn’t accidentally on purpose stare at his perfectly shaped butt.
While I grabbed more content, Noah rustled through his backpack, pulling out a collapsible bowl and filling it with water for Yeti.
The wolf-dog lapped it up enthusiastically, spraying water in every direction.
When she was finished, she bounded back into the trees, presumably patrolling our perimeter for squirrels. Or chipmunks. Or disco chickens.
“What about you, you thirsty? Hungry?” Noah pulled a black and red plaid blanket from his pack.
“Starving, actually.” My stomach growled at the thought, a rumble fierce enough to give Yeti a run for her money.
Noah spread the blanket on a relatively flat patch of ground, then pulled several foil-wrapped bundles from the depths of his backpack. I caught the scent of fresh herbs and warm butter.
“Did you get those from the resort?” I asked as he laid out what looked like breakfast burritos and fresh fruit.
“Nope. I made them fresh this morning.”
“You made these?” They looked even better than they smelled. Crispy toasted tortillas on the outside, gooey melted cheese oozing from the middle.
“Can’t hike on an empty stomach.” Noah kept a careful distance as he unscrewed a thermos. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.” I reached for it, but he pulled back.
He shook his head. “I like these hiking boots too much to risk them.”
“That was one time …”
“Three times actually.”
Noah poured the steaming liquid into a metal cup, maintaining a safe distance as he handed it over. “Better blow on it first. It’s hot.”
“I’m not completely helpless, you know.” But I blew on it a couple of times anyway, the rich aroma making my mouth water.
Noah sat at one end of the blanket, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the thermos, and I sat at the opposite corner.
“I have to admit, this sure beats my usual breakfasts,” I said, taking a sip. The coffee was still hot, but not so hot that I felt the urge to spit it on him.
“Your fancy LA restaurants don’t do sunrise picnics?”
“Usually just avocado toast with microgreens, or carefully arranged acai bowls.” I unwrapped the burrito, taking a small bite that turned into a bigger one.
The eggs were perfectly seasoned, spicy, but not too spicy, and chunks of potato mixed with green chilies, black beans, and salsa.
The symphony of flavors exploded on my taste buds.
“This is incredible,” I said between bites. “Who are you, Gordon Ramsey? Or did you get the recipe from TikTok?”
“It was my mom’s recipe, actually.”
“Well, tell her I approve.”
Noah only smiled, taking another bite of his food.
“Most guys I know can barely make instant ramen. Although Parker makes a mean ramen mac and cheese.”
As Noah looked off into the distance, the morning light caught his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. He had a small scar near his temple I hadn’t noticed before. Somehow, it made his rugged look even more rugged.
“I’m not giving you the rest of mine if that’s why you’re staring at me.”
“I’m not staring.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I stuffed my mouth with burrito, a brilliant maneuver to avoid coming up with an excuse for staring at him again.
“Save room for dessert?” Noah asked.
“I always have room for dessert,” I said, mouth still full.
Noah reached in his backpack, pulled out two tightly wrapped mounds. He handed one to me, and I caught the slightest hesitation, not uncertainty about giving it to me, but something that looked almost like anticipation.
I peeled back the foil to discover a perfectly baked muffin, light and fluffy on the inside with a sugar-crusted top, bursting with bluish - purple berries. The smell was life-altering.
“Blueberry?”
“Huckleberry.” Noah pointed into the distance. “Picked from the side of that mountain right over there.”
I took a bite and the spongy deliciousness melted on my tongue. The flavor was complex, tart, and sweet all at once. “This is incredible.”
“Wild berry flavors are more intense, so I balance the tartness with maple syrup and orange zest.”
“You bake and you zest?” He wasn’t just throwing ingredients together; he actually knew what he was doing.
“I guess I’m full of surprises.” He poured more coffee into my cup, his movements precise and careful. When his fingers brushed mine for a split second, he didn’t pull away immediately. The touch lingered just long enough to send a jolt through my arm that had nothing to do with the caffeine.
“So,” I ventured, watching him over the rim of my cup. “Does someone special ever buy you Pilates lessons? Because these muffins suggest hidden depths.”
His shoulders stiffened beneath his flannel, fingers tightening around the wrapper. “Nope.”
“Come on, a guy who can cook and bake like that? There must be a story.”
“There isn’t.” But one look into those blue eyes of his and I could tell that there was.
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“So now it’s been said.” That made him smile. Almost.
We sat in silence. Eating muffins. Drinking coffee. I saw small signs I’d missed before. The way Noah checked my reaction to each bite. The way his jaw relaxed slightly when I smiled.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
“I’m not being nice.”
“In most civilized societies, baking muffins for someone is generally considered an act of niceness.”
“Act of niceness? That’s not even a thing.” He took another sip of coffee and looked off into the trees.
I whipped out my phone, fingers tapping across the screen. Noah watched me out of the corner of his eye. “There. ‘Act of niceness.’ Now it’s a thing.” I showed him my phone — a picture of a muffin-holding Noah with the hashtag #actofniceness.
“Incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant it in a bad way.”
“What? Does doing something nice go against your Grumpy Mountain Man Code?”
“I’m just here to do my job. A job you forced me into, by the way.”
“So, then you make breakfast for all your hiking companions?”
“This whole thing was Maya’s idea, remember?” Storm clouds gathered in his eyes.
“So Maya made you be nice.”
“Did you think you were special?” He flinched. Almost as if the words had been as much of a surprise to him as they were to me.
“Of course not.”