Chapter 5
Chapter Five
J uniper
“Watch your step,” Flint mutters, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
I glance up from the uneven trail, rolling my eyes. “You’ve said that ten times in the last half hour. I get it—don’t trip, don’t fall, don’t die.”
He turns, and even in the dappled sunlight, his scowl is as dark as a storm cloud. “Wouldn’t have to say it if you didn’t look like you were one rock away from breaking your neck.”
I plant my hands on my hips, glaring up at him. “I’m perfectly capable of walking without a babysitter.”
His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. “Sure you are, city girl.”
There it is again. City girl. Like a nickname he knows will rile me up.
“Keep calling me that, and I’ll start calling you Grizzly Adams with a chainsaw,” I shoot back, unable to resist.
His smirk wins the battle, curving slow and smug. “Better than a city girl who thinks hiking boots are a fashion statement.”
My mouth opens, ready to snap back, but the way he’s looking at me stops the words in my throat. His dark eyes gleam with amusement, but there’s something else there too—something that makes my stomach flip.
I look away, breaking the moment before it gets too intense. “You could try being nice, you know. It wouldn’t kill you.”
“Nice doesn’t keep people alive out here.”
The bluntness of his reply catches me off guard. I glance back at him, and for a split second, I see past the gruff exterior. There’s something in his expression—a flicker of something haunted—that makes me wonder what he’s seen, what he’s carried.
But then he turns, continuing down the trail like the conversation never happened.
We stop at a clearing near the river, the sound of rushing water filling the space between us. I drop my backpack, my shoulders aching from carrying all my gear.
“Break time?” I ask, plopping down on a flat rock.
Flint nods, crouching to refill his canteen in the river. His movements are precise, methodical, and I can’t help but watch the way his shoulders flex under his T-shirt.
“You do this often?” I ask, more to fill the silence than anything else.
“Do what?” he replies without looking up.
“Guide helpless city girls through the wilderness,” I tease.
His gaze flicks to mine, and there’s a spark of humor in his eyes. “Nope. You’re my first.”
I grin, leaning back on my hands. “Lucky me.”
He straightens, shaking the excess water from his canteen. “That’s one word for it.”
“Come on,” I press, leaning forward. “You’re telling me no one’s ever asked for your help before? You’re, like, the unofficial mountain guardian of Devil’s Peak.”
He snorts. “Most people around here know how to handle themselves.”
“Well, I think you secretly like it,” I say, my tone playful. “Being needed. Being the gruff protector.”
He steps closer, towering over me, and the air shifts. His gaze pins me in place, dark and unreadable.
“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
My breath catches, but I refuse to back down. “I think you’re not as tough as you want everyone to believe.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The tension crackles like static, the air between us charged with something I can’t name but can definitely feel.
Then he steps back, breaking the spell. “We should keep moving. Sun’ll start setting soon.”
As we hike deeper into the forest, Flint surprises me by pointing out small details I would’ve missed—a deer trail winding through the underbrush, claw marks on a tree from a black bear, the delicate bloom of a wildflower nestled between rocks.
“You really love this place, don’t you?” I ask, unable to hide the admiration in my voice.
He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his expression. “It’s home.”
I nod, understanding more than I expected to. “I get it. There’s something about this place... It’s wild, but it’s alive. Like it has a heartbeat.”
He glances at me, something unreadable in his gaze. “Not what I expected from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figured you’d see it as another project,” he says, his tone blunt. “Something to fix or save.”
I bristle, his words hitting a nerve. “I’m not here to ‘fix’ anything. I’m here to show people why it’s worth protecting.”
“And you think a camera’s gonna do that?”
“It’s a start. Not everyone gets to live in the middle of it,” I smirk, “some of us have to fight to make people care,” I tease.
He stops, turning to face me. “You think I don’t fight, hmm?”
I take a step closer. The words hang between us, heavy with implication. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But instead, he pushes a stray lock of hair out of my face before his lips hover just inches from mine. “Careful, sugar. You got that look in your eye.”
My eyes narrow. “What look is that?”
“The one that says you want me to kiss you.”
My mouth pops open with shock. He’s so stubborn and gruff, I never expected him to even think about kissing me.
A smirk covers his face then, the pad of his thumb sliding across my lower lip. “You’re dangerous for a man like me, princess. Maybe the most dangerous thing on this mountain.”
“Oh,” I breathe, my thoughts swimming so fast I can hardly catch him.
He grins, eyes sparkling with amusement. “We should set up camp before it gets too dark.”
I swallow the bundle of nerves lodged in my throat, shockwaves pulsing through me as I realize I’m disappointed that he didn’t kiss me.
We set up camp near the edge of the forest, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the ground. Flint starts a fire, his movements efficient and practiced, while I lay out my camera gear, trying to capture the golden light filtering through the trees.
“You always this prepared?” he asks, nodding toward my equipment.
“Always, I’ve got to be prepared–you never know when an opportunity for the right show might present itself,” I reply, glancing at him. “Documentary filmmaking isn’t a glamorous job.”
He chuckles, the sound low and unexpected. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just didn’t peg you for the rough-it-in-the-wilderness type,” he says, smirking. “Figured you’d have a team of assistants doing all the heavy lifting.”
I toss a twig at him, laughing when it bounces off his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he says, his smirk softening into something almost... tender.
The fire crackles between us, and for the first time all day, the silence feels comfortable. I lean back, watching the flames dance, and steal a glance at Flint. His profile is sharp against the firelight, his expression unreadable as he stares into the flames.
“Do you ever think about leaving?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
“Leaving Devil’s Peak?”
“Yeah. Starting over somewhere new.”
He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the fire. “This is where I belong.”
I nod, understanding more than I expected to. “I guess that’s why Barron asked you to keep an eye on me. He knew you wouldn’t let me get lost.”
Flint looks at me then, his eyes dark and intense. “You’re not lost, Juniper. Some people even find themselves on this mountain.”
The weight of his words settles over me, and for once, I don’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, I hold his gaze, the air between us thick with something I can’t name.
And for the first time, I don’t want to.