Chapter 9 Maya
MAYA
The scent of pastry and berries filled the harvest shop, doing its best to soothe my nerves. Noah hadn’t called. It was past two in the afternoon, and I was starving. I wasn’t about to wait around for a cowboy who apparently couldn’t use a phone.
Mrs. Sutton beamed as she pulled a fresh buffaloberry crumble from the display case. “Now, sweetheart, I know you’re not leaving without a slice of this.”
She had the kind of energy that said she didn’t just run this place. She was the place.
I huffed a laugh. “I’ve only been here a few days, and it already feels like you’ve known me since I was a baby.”
“I know everybody too well,” she teased, wrapping up my order with expert hands. “Heard you were at the wedding rehearsal last night. Sheryn’s been raving about the whole setup…says Claire’s got that special touch.”
I nodded, pretending my brain hadn’t just conjured Noah’s hands on my waist the second I heard “the whole setup.”
“Yeah. The Lazy Moose cleans up nice,” I said.
My fingers twitched. I glanced at my phone again.
Nothing.
He’d practically looked like an eager puppy when I’d asked him to lunch. And now? Radio silence. Maybe he got busy. Maybe he changed his mind.
Or maybe—
What if he’d found the necklace?
I sucked in a breath. No. No way. It was hidden. No one had been out there last night.
Shaking my head lightly, I shoved the thought aside.
Mrs. Sutton gave me a look, as if she saw more than I wanted her to. “You taking this feast somewhere special? Fresh air is good for the soul.”
I tapped the second bag I’d added to my order—a sandwich and fresh cider. “Thinking I’ll eat down by the river. Might even check out the waterfalls.”
She tsked approvingly. “That’s a fine idea. And don’t let a single soul guilt you out of it.”
I smiled. That was the thing about Buffaloberry Hill—people could be nosy, but never cruel.
My mind was made up. I was going to enjoy my lunch. The river sounded perfect. Peaceful.
I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going, only that Raven Bluff Trail led to the river. I’d overheard enough in town to piece it together. Locals kept talking about some tucked-away spot where you could hear the waterfalls before you ever saw them.
Good enough.
I followed the winding dirt road, letting instinct guide me. When the tree line broke into a small clearing, I pulled over, stepping out.
A narrow path cut through the brush, uneven and wild. It was probably not even a real trail, but I walked it anyway.
No waterfall. No river. No Noah.
Still, the view wasn’t bad. The trail led me to a cliff, a little ledge facing out across a dense forest of pine and aspen. The Rockies rose jagged and indifferent in the distance. Quintessential Montana.
I sat, brushing pine needles from the log beside me and brushing off the disappointment just as quickly. Of course he hadn’t shown. Whatever the reason, I didn’t want to think about the worst yet.
I just had to get through this wedding. That was the deal. No backing out, no letting Sheryn down. Not after everything she’d done for me.
One day at a time.
Lunch now. Tomorrow, the vows and the crowd. After that…I’d figure something out.
A rustle.
I turned, scanning the tree line. It was not just the wind. It could’ve been an animal, but it didn’t feel like one.
Then, it stopped.
My phone beeped.
Mr. No-Show.
I’m on my way. So so so sorry. Where are you?
Typical!
Another rustle. Closer this time.
Guess he figured it out after all.
I shrugged my shirt down to my arms, letting the tank top underneath do the talking. If I forgave him—and that was still pending—he could at least work for it. I angled myself on the log. Relaxed. Disinterested. Strategic.
Footsteps followed.
Then—
“Oh, hello there!”
It was not Noah.
Who the hell…?
The man smiled, his hands raised. “Sorry—sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was smooth. “I’m Napoleon.”
Napoleon?
At least the name matched the outfit. Polished leather shoes, cream trousers, and a navy jacket. He looked like someone who’d been dropped here by a drone.
I didn’t take the hand he offered.
Didn’t smile either.
He kept going. “I’m scouting for venues.
Word is, Bitterroot Valley’s crawling with untapped charm.
I plan weddings from coast to mountains.
From Beverly Hills to Bridger Canyon. People book flights to places they couldn’t find on a map just to attend.
Then they post, and suddenly the whole world’s heard of the place. ”
Bridger Canyon.
That name alone iced through my bloodstream. Too close to what I’d run from.
“Good for you,” I said flatly. “There’s plenty of room out here.”
I gestured widely, hoping he’d take the hint and give me breathing room. He didn’t. He was still hovering. Still looking at me.
“People always ask why I scout alone. I could bring my assistant, sure. But there’s something about being in a place by yourself. I become the newlyweds—feel what they’d feel, see what they’d see. Trade secret.” He let out a short laugh, then added, “Not that I mind the company.”
I tugged my shirt back on, his gaze dragging along my arms.
His attention shifted to the bluff. “This might not be the best place for a wedding arch,” he mused. “But a photoshoot? Now that has potential. Rustic. Raw. Ideal for those adventurous couples.”
Then his eyes landed on me again. “Mind if I take a photo of you? You’d be perfect in the light.”
He didn’t wait for a yes.
He pulled out his phone and raised it.
Click.
And another.
I lunged forward and snatched it from his hand. Before he could react, I flung it. The phone sailed over the edge of the bluff and disappeared into the ravine.
“Bitch!” he yelled.
“Serves you right!” I snapped.
“That was my life in there!” His voice rose with fury as he stared down, searching the tangle of green and stone as if the phone might still be clinging to a chance.
“My pictures were in there!” I threw back.
He rounded his fingers, his fists twitching. Then he stomped the ground—hard—like the rage needed somewhere to go. “Argh! And my crystal—fuck! My crystal cover!”
“You should’ve thought. You should’ve stopped back when I still had mercy to give.”
He took a step, the ground thudding under his weight. He pulled my collar, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he hissed.
The earth shifted.
Literally.
The ground beneath him crumbled, roots snapping, rock sliding. His footing gave out. He screamed, panic overtaking him as his grip on me slipped. Next, he was skidding down the side of the ravine, his arms flailing.
My instinct kicked in before my brain did. I dropped to my knees and grabbed for his arm.
“Hold still!” I shouted. “I’ve got you. Just…hold still!”
He clung to the ledge, his legs dangling. I stretched out, my fingers locking around his wrist. Our eyes met, and for a second, I was sure the panic would take him before the fall ever could.
“Climb,” I said, bracing and pulling. “You can do it.”
He scrambled up like a crab on scorched rock. At the top, he grabbed me.
“No! Not—” I screamed, the force of his grip jerking me off balance.
He made it up the ravine. I didn’t.
I slammed down onto the slope where he’d been seconds before. The ledge cracked, loose dirt giving way.
My hand shot out, catching roots, rock, and anything I could grip. But everything slid with me.
The man was already running.
I screamed after him. “Help me! You asshole! Don’t leave me!”
But he didn’t look back.
Didn’t even pause.
The dirt kept collapsing around me, coming down in waves, loose and merciless. At the Belrose mansion, I could scale stone walls using whatever footholds I could find. But here, with the ground shifting above me and nothing to anchor to, survival wasn’t just a matter of strength.
It was luck.
And mine was running out.