Chapter 6
L auren balanced the paper plate of s'mores in one hand, her flashlight in the other, as she made her way up the narrow trail toward Mac's cabin.
It'd taken her several enquiries to find out where he lived.
Finally, a middle-aged man staying in Cabin Six told her he'd spotted Mac walking behind the lodge several days in a row. Her questioning had paid off.
Unlike the perfect weather she'd experienced all week, the air was thick, humid, and restless, like the mountain held its breath. The sky had darkened faster than expected, clouds rolling in with urgency. Thunder rumbled low in the distance, a warning growl that it was coming closer.
There was a note tacked on her cabin door that morning, warning her about the upcoming storm and how she could stay safe. It was imperative to stay away from the lake in case of lightning. She wasn't going far, and she was underneath the canopy of trees. It should be okay.
She looked ahead as far as the beam of light would allow. The man never mentioned how far she'd have to walk. She glanced behind her, shining the flashlight. The lodge was already out of sight. His house must not be too far.
After Mac helped her get the video earlier in the day, she couldn't stop thinking about him.
He'd paddled around her in the kayak, helping her get the perfect shots.
She'd laughed, flirted, and teased, and he hadn't smiled once.
And yet, he'd stayed. It was ridiculous to think she could flirt with a man like him and he'd respond to her.
He was older. Obviously grumpy. But there was something there when he stayed longer than necessary or saved her from falling that excited her.
The plate was warm, the marshmallows were still gooey. She'd made them in the fireplace of the cabin. Not for content. Not for her followers. Just for Mac. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated him lately, constantly bailing her out of trouble and helping her with her videos and pictures.
Finally, his cabin came into view, tucked between the trees like it had grown there. It wasn't as large as the lodge but much bigger than the cabin she was staying in. She stepped onto the porch and knocked once, then twice.
The door opened slowly.
Mac stood there, shirt damp, his hair tousled like he'd recently come in from chopping wood. His eyes flicked to the plate, then to her face.
"Beckett's at the lodge if you need something," he said in a low voice.
"I was looking for you. I brought you a treat." She lifted the plate. "A thank you for always helping me—"
Thunder rumbled above her. She screamed, almost dropping the plate.
He grabbed the offering and stepped inside. "Get in. The storms right on top of us."
She entered the cabin, surprised to find it cozy and well-furnished. There were fishing rods hung on the log walls, snowshoes, and even a bear rug in front of the fireplace. Her stomach fluttered. The place was lived in and comfortable.
Mac placed the plate on the counter. "You shouldn't be out in this weather."
"I'm not made of sugar," she said. "I won't melt."
That's when she saw a small, mud-streaked backpack slouched against the wall near the door. One of the side pockets held a slingshot. A pair of boots sat beside it, too small to be Mac's.
She blinked. "You have a son."
Cringing inside because he'd already mentioned he had a son, she should've respected his privacy instead of barging into his cabin during a summer storm. Of course, he would have to take care of his child. The last thing on his mind would be her, and her stupid s'mores.
Mac glanced up from the plate. "His name's Jetter. He's twelve."
"Where is he?"
Mac shrugged. "Around."
Lauren stared at him. "You mean outside? In this storm?"
"He knows what he's doing."
She stepped closer, her voice rising. "Mac, it's thundering. There's lightning. I barely made it here without jumping out of my skin, and you're telling me your twelve-year-old son is out there alone? What if he's by the lake?"
"He's not wandering." Mac's expression remained unchanged. "He's probably in the tree behind the lodge or the shed. Sometimes, he'll hide in the cave. He knows where to go.
Lauren's mouth opened, then closed. "He's twelve."
"He's smart. He's careful. I've taught him how to take care of himself."
She shook her head, pacing a few steps. "I don't care how woodsy he is. You don't leave a kid out in a storm."
Mac's jaw tightened. "I didn't leave him. He chose to stay away from the cabin."
Lauren looked at the boots, the slingshot, and the backpack again. All the signs of a boy who still played, imagined, still needed someone watching out for him.
"You're not worried?" she asked, softer now.
Mac hesitated. "I'm always a little worried. But not about his safety in a storm."
That stopped her. She looked at him, really looked. His shoulders were broad, his stance solid—but there was something in his eyes. A flicker. A warning.
She had no experience with kids. She wasn't a mother. She grew up in public school, took swimming lessons, and was part of the Girl Scouts. Her mom and dad, both doctors, were protective but not helicopter parents.
They wanted her to become something big and follow in their footsteps. But she'd turned social media into a career. She earned more than she needed each month and had no huge college loan to repay.
She exhaled. "Okay."
He nodded once, then turned back to the plate. "You want one?"
She stepped closer, the tension still humming between them. "Only if you're going to have one too."
He handed her a s'more, then took one for himself. They stood there, side by side, chewing in silence as the storm growled outside.
"You probably have these all the time, seeing how you live in the campground," she said.
"Nope."
Thunder cracked overhead, sharp and sudden. The windows rattled.
Mac looked out. "You can't walk back."
"I'll wait it out," she said, trying to sound casual. But her heart thudded. Not from the storm—but from being here. Alone. With him. "If that's okay?"
He turned to her, arms crossed. "You always do things like this?"
"Like what?"
"Show up in the middle of a storm with dessert and a smile."
She shrugged. "You make it sound reckless."
"It is."
"Well, you're pretty daring, yourself." She stepped closer. "You didn't have to paddle out on the lake to see me today."
"I thought you were going to drown."
"I thought you were going to ignore me."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. "I try."
Lightning flashed, followed by a roar of thunder that shook the walls. Lauren flinched.
Mac's eyes softened. "You okay?"
She nodded. "It sounds close."
"That's how storms are in the mountains. You're higher to the sky, so everything is amplified."
He reached past her and pulled the curtain closed. "You'll stay here tonight. I'll take the couch, and you can have my bed."
"I didn't bring anything to sleep in." She picked up the hem of her sundress and shrugged.
"You brought s'mores," he said. "That's enough."
She smiled at the teasing coming from him, but it faded when she saw the way he was looking at her.
"I make you uncomfortable," she said.
He grunted his answer.
"But you still let me in."
He didn't answer. Just stepped closer, the space between them charged and humming like the wind that had picked up outside.
Lauren's breath caught. "Mac..."
He continued to gaze at her, really studying her. And for a moment, the storm outside was nothing compared to the one between them.
She held her breath. He was going to kiss her.
At the last second, he straightened to his full height, towering over her. "You can take the bedroom. First door on the right."
She deflated like a popped balloon. When he turned around, she walked to the short hallway and entered his bedroom. Alone.