Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
THE DECEPTION
GRIFFIN
I made it three steps outside Town Hall before my hands started shaking.
Not from cold. Not from the wind picking up across Main Street, carrying the smell of snow. From pure, white-hot fury at Vivian Collins and her meddling, grant-chasing, matchmaking bullshit.
And from the way something in her gaze hit the same place in me the rope had when it went slack.
Those eyes, sharp green, assessing, unflinching, had sized me up in two seconds flat.
She'd seen the anger, the scars, the deliberate distance I kept from everyone in this town.
And she hadn't flinched. Hadn't stepped back.
Just stood there with her chin up and her shoulders squared, looking like she could rappel down a cliff face or punch through a wall with equal competence.
I sure as hell didn’t want to notice her.
But I had. Every damn detail.
And that made Vivian's stunt ten times worse.
I yanked open the door to my truck, then reconsidered. Rafe was expecting a call. I needed to handle this before the situation got more out of control. The SAR base was two blocks over, I could walk it and cool down before I said something I'd regret.
The door opened behind me.
"Griffin, wait."
Her voice stopped me cold. Calm, controlled, with an edge that said she'd dealt with worse than small-town chaos. I turned.
Ava stood on the sidewalk, her messenger bag slung across her body, paperwork folder in hand. Snowflakes caught in her hair. She'd left the reception, which told me everything I needed to know about her tolerance for Vivian's theatrics.
"I need a straight answer," she said. "Did you actually make a Mountain Mates profile, or did your mayor catfish me across three states?"
Her stance didn’t shift, but her voice carried command, like she was used to calling shots on a cliff face.
"I've never touched that app," I said flatly. "Vivian made the damn profile. Probably thought she was doing me a favor."
"So you didn’t message me?"
"No. But someone used my name, my photos, my job, and a bunch of things I’d never say out loud." I could feel the veins in my forehead popping. "Vivian’s been on a matchmaking spree. Apparently I was next on her list."
Ava's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “So I didn’t match with you. I matched with your mayor.”
“Yeah.” His mouth tightened. “And I’m sorry as hell you got dragged into it.”
I watched her process that, saw the tension ease slightly from her shoulders. "The rest is Vivian playing Valentine's matchmaker with other people's lives."
"Does she do this often?"
"You're the fourth 'engagement' she's announced this month." I couldn't stop the bitter edge. "None of the others stuck. Turns out most people don't appreciate being ambushed into marriage."
"Shocking." This time, the smile reached her eyes. Then it faded. "But the grant funding, if I take the job without the marriage clause, does the team lose the money?"
Smart question. The kind that told me she was already thinking about the team, not just herself.
"I'll handle Vivian," I said. "You focus on whether you actually want the job. Because Bitterroot's not easy. We're remote, understaffed, and the mountains here don't forgive mistakes."
Something flickered across her face. Pain, maybe. Or memory. It was gone before I could name it.
“My grandmother raised me on trail maps and cliffs,” she said. “She believed fear was something you practiced your way out of. I can handle mountains.”
The wind gusted, sharp enough to make her shiver. I checked the sky, clouds thickening, that particular yellow-gray that meant heavy snow was incoming. We had maybe two hours before the pass closed.
"Storm's moving faster than forecast," I said. "If you want out before you're stuck here, we need to leave."
She studied me for a long moment. I made myself hold still under that gaze, even though every instinct screamed to look away. To put distance between us. To stop noticing the way snowflakes melted against her flushed cheeks.
"Why are you helping me out?” she asked. "You don't know me."
"Because you got lied to." Simple as that. "And because I know what it's like when someone decides your life for you."
Understanding flickered in her eyes. She nodded slowly. "Okay. Let me grab my duffel from the car."
"Meet me at the SAR base you can meet Rafe. Two blocks north, blue building with the helipad." I started toward my truck, then stopped. "Ava?"
She turned back.
"For what it's worth, you seem like you'd be good at the job. Real good." I held her gaze. "But you shouldn't have to marry some grumpy bastard to do it."
Her smile came back, softer this time. Dangerous. "What if the grumpy bastard's worth it?"
Heat shot through me, low and sudden. I couldn't tell if she was joking or testing, but either way, I was in trouble.
I climbed into my truck without answering.
The SAR base was organized chaos when I arrived.
Rafe stood at the main desk, radio in hand, coordinating a medevac for a skier with a broken femur at Ridgeline Resort.
He was built like he'd been carved from the mountains themselves, six-three, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that made people listen.
His dark hair was going gray at the temples, and the scar across his jaw was a souvenir from a wildfire rescue three years back.
He saw me and pointed at his office. Wait.
I paced while he finished the call, my mind still snagged on Ava's parting words. What if the grumpy bastard's worth it?
She'd been teasing. Had to be. But the way she'd looked at me, direct, unflinching, like she saw past the scars and the walls, made something in my chest tighten.
I didn't want to be seen.
And I sure as hell didn't want to want her.
Rafe hung up and jerked his chin toward the office. I followed.
"Vivian called," he said before I could speak. "Tried to explain her 'Valentine's Initiative.' I told her if she ever pulls that shit again, I'm requesting a new mayor."
"Ava didn't know," I said. "She thought she was just taking a job."
"I know. I read her application myself. She's overqualified for what we're paying." Rafe leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Which makes me think she's running from something. You notice anything off?"
I thought about the flicker of pain when I'd mentioned mountains not forgiving mistakes. "She's been through something. But she didn't fold when Vivian ambushed her. And she asked about the team funding before worrying about herself."
Rafe's mouth quirked. "You like her."
"I don't know her."
"That's not what I asked."
I looked away, jaw tight. "Doesn't matter what I think. She's probably leaving as soon as I drive her out."
"Is she?"
Before I could answer, the door opened. Ava stepped in, duffel bag over her shoulder, and stopped when she saw Rafe.
"You must be Rafe Callahan." She shifted the bag and extended her hand. "Ava Winters. I'd say it's nice to finally meet you, but the circumstances are a little weird."
Rafe's handshake was firm. "Welcome to Bitterroot Ridge. And I apologize for our mayor. She means well, but subtlety isn't her strong suit."
"I noticed." Ava glanced at me, then back to Rafe. "Griffin said the position's real. Is that true, or are you just being polite?"
"It's real. I need someone who knows technical rope systems and can handle alpine environments. Your resume says you've done multi-pitch extractions in Washington and Colorado. That accurate?"
Something guarded slid into place behind her eyes. "Yes."
"Then the job's yours if you want it. No marriage required. Vivian will get her grant money another way, or she won't. Either way, that's not your problem."
Ava's shoulders dropped an inch. Relief. "I want it."
"Good." Rafe pulled a key ring from his desk. "We've got a cabin for team housing. It's basic, but it's yours. Griffin can show you..."
Thunder cracked overhead. We all looked up.
Not thunder. The low rumble of a snowslide somewhere in the high country.
Rafe moved to the window. "That came from the north ridge. Griffin, check the weather."
I was already pulling up the radar on my phone. The system had accelerated. What should've been a gradual evening storm was now a wall of white bearing down on us.
"Pass'll close in thirty minutes," I said. "Maybe less."
Ava was at my shoulder, close enough that I caught her scent, something clean and sharp, like winter air. She studied the radar, then the window. "That's not just snow. That's a system stacking against the ridge. We'll have whiteout conditions by dark."
She'd clocked it in seconds. Rafe and I exchanged a glance.
"Guess you're staying," Rafe said. "At least until it clears."
Ava's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Understood."
"Griffin, get her to the cabin before visibility drops. Make sure the heat's working." Rafe handed me the keys. "I'll deal with Vivian."
"Good luck with that."
Ava grabbed her bag. "I can follow you in my car..."
"Roads are already ice." I took the duffel from her before she could argue. "Truck's got chains and clearance. We'll get your car tomorrow."
She opened her mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it. Smart. Fighting about logistics in a storm was a good way to get stuck.
We headed for the truck in silence. The snow was falling thick now, fat flakes that clung to everything. I threw her bag in the back and climbed into the driver's seat. She slid in beside me, and suddenly the cab felt too small.
Way too small.
Her knee brushed mine as she buckled in. I gripped the wheel hard enough to hurt.
"How far is the cabin?" she asked.
"Ten minutes in good weather. Twenty now." I started the engine, flipping on the heaters. "It's off the main road. Quiet. You'll have privacy."
"And you?"
I shot her a look. "What about me?"
"Where do you live?"
"Couple miles north. Closer to the base." I pulled onto the road, focusing on the white lines barely visible through the snow. "You won't see much of me unless there's a call."
"Is that your preference, or mine?"
The question hit harder than it should've. I didn't answer.
She was quiet for a minute, watching the mountains disappear into the storm. Then: "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a grumpy bastard."
"You've known me an hour."
"And you've been decent the entire time. Angry at the situation, not at me. That counts for something."
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That I was exactly the kind of man who didn't deserve decent. That she should stay as far away from me as possible.
Instead, I kept driving.
The cabin appeared through the snow like a ghost, small, wood-sided, firewood neatly stacked outside. I parked and grabbed her bag.
"I'll check the interior."
"I can..."
"Just let me check."
She followed me up the steps anyway. Stubborn. I liked that more than I should.
Inside, the cabin was clean. One main room with a kitchenette, a wood stove, and a loft ladder leading to a sleeping area. Basic, but solid. The kind of place that could weather any storm.
I let her look around while I got the fire going.
"It's perfect," Ava said, dropping her messenger bag on the table. "Thank you."
I should've left. Should've handed her the keys and walked back into the storm.
But I stood there, watching the delight play across her face, and couldn't make myself move.
"Griffin?" She stepped closer. "Are you okay?"
"No." The word came out rougher than I meant. "I'm not."
Because she was here. Because she was beautiful and competent and looking at me like I was something other than broken. Because in an hour, this woman had gotten under my skin in ways I'd spent eight months preventing.
And because the storm outside was nothing compared to the one building inside me.
"I should go," I said.
"Probably." But she didn't move either.
The space between us felt charged. Electric. Dangerous.
I made myself turn toward the door.
"Griffin?"
I stopped, hand on the knob.
"Are we going to have a problem since I'm staying?"
I looked back. Held her gaze. "That depends."
"On?"
"On whether you can work with someone who's going to want you every single day and never do a damn thing about it."
Her breath caught. I saw the flash of heat in her eyes before she controlled it.
"Then I guess we'll both have a problem," she said quietly.
I left before I could do something stupid.
Like kiss her.