Chapter 3
Kim
Morning came too soon, announced by sunlight streaming through the wall of windows Neil had positioned to catch the dawn.
I lay in his bed for a few minutes, surrounded by his scent, trying to process the surreal fact that I was waking up in a mountain man's cabin after getting lost in the wilderness.
It was like a fairy tale, a virgin princess meets a beast who is more humane than most males she knew.
The flannel shirt had ridden up during the night, leaving my legs bare beneath the soft quilts. Everything about the situation should have felt awkward or uncomfortable. Instead, it felt strangely right, like I'd been waiting my whole life to wake up in this exact place.
The sound of movement from the kitchen drew me from the warm cocoon of blankets. I finger-combed my hair into some semblance of order. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the cabin. Neil stood at the stove, already dressed in a chamois shirt and jeans, looking like he'd been awake for hours.
"Morning," he said without turning around. "Coffee's ready if you want some."
"Thank you." I approached the kitchen area cautiously, still feeling like an intruder despite his obvious acceptance of my presence. "You didn't have to make breakfast."
"Had to eat anyway." He glanced over his shoulder, and I caught him taking in my appearance again. Something heated flared in his eyes before he turned back to the stove. "Hope you like eggs."
The domestic scene felt both natural and charged with tension I didn't know how to navigate. This was uncharted territory for me—sharing morning routines with a man whose presence made my mouth water. He was dangerously sexy, and I was way out of my league.
He handed me a mug of coffee, and our fingers brushed during the exchange. The contact sent a jolt of desire through me, and from the way his jaw tightened, he felt it too.
"Did you sleep all right?" he asked.
"Better than I have in months. Your bed is incredibly comfortable."
"Good." The satisfaction in his voice made my toes curl. "You needed rest after yesterday."
I settled at the dining table while he finished cooking, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt or how his large hands handled the cooking implements with surprising dexterity.
"What's the plan for today?" I asked as he set a heaping pile of eggs and bacon in front of me.
"First, we check on your car. Then we figure out where you need to look for those journals." He sat across from me, and the table suddenly seemed smaller. "Do you have any idea where this cache might be hidden?"
"The historical records mention a logging camp called Miller's Station, somewhere in this area. But the coordinates are from 1850s land surveys might not correspond to modern maps."
"Miller's Station." Neil paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.
"I can get you to the old foundation I mentioned yesterday.
It could be what you're looking for. I stumbled across it a few years ago while tracking a deer, but I never paid much attention to it.
There's lots of abandoned old buildings scattered through these mountains. "
"I’d love to see them all,” I said eagerly. Then I tried to dial back the enthusiasm. "I mean, if it's not too much trouble."
His mouth curved in amusement. "Doc, after yesterday, I'm not letting you wander around these woods alone again. If you're going to search for buried treasure, I'm coming with you."
The protective undertone in his voice sent another spike of awareness through me. I know I didn't know him well, but I was starting to really like Neil.
"I hope they're not buried," I said. "Unless they're protected. Otherwise after so many years, we might just find a bunch of rotting paper."
"Think positive."
"It's nice to have a little encouragement. Back home, they think I'm a little nuts for thinking I'm going to find something so historically significant."
"Sounds like they're underestimating you." He grinned.
I nodded. "Story of my life."
"So, let's rewrite it."
"I like the sound of that."
After breakfast, I reluctantly changed back into my hiking clothes while Neil gathered supplies for our expedition. He loaded up a backpack with water, first aid supplies, and some serious looking hiking equipment.
"Ready?" he asked, shouldering the pack with easy strength.
"As ready as I'll ever be." I had all my notes on my phone and the map I had printed out. "Lead the way."
This was going to be fun. I was glad Neil was coming with me. It was a lot less scary and lonely with him beside me.
We headed first toward where I'd left my rental car, Neil leading us down a different trail than the one he'd taken to his cabin. After about forty minutes of hiking, we emerged onto what had once been a road but now looked more like a muddy disaster zone.
"There," Neil pointed to a sad sight about fifty yards ahead.
My rental sedan sat at an awkward angle, the front driver's side wheel completely through what used to be road surface, the undercarriage resting on mud and broken asphalt. The recent rains had washed out the shoulder, creating a small ravine that the car now partially bridged.
"Oh no," I groaned, seeing the full extent of the damage. "The rental company is going to kill me."
"It’s not your fault the road washed out.
" Neil circled the vehicle, assessing the situation with a critical eye.
"Even if we could get it unstuck, which would take a winch and probably damage the undercarriage more, you couldn't drive it out.
Road's completely gone for another quarter mile that way. "
I pulled out my phone, hoping for a miracle. Still no signal.
"We'll call from my cabin later," Neil said. "I've got a landline. But it's going to take a specialized tow truck, and they won't come up here until the county stabilizes the road first."
"How long will that take?"
He shook his head and whistled.
"A few days," Neil said, seeing my panic.
"Jerry from St. Johnsbury could get up here with the right equipment, but the road needs to be stabilized first, or he'll just get stuck too.
County might get someone out here tomorrow or day after to assess it.
So realistically? Three to five days, maybe a week at most."
He must have seen my distress because his expression softened. "Look, if you need to get back urgently, I can drive you to Burlington. But you’re welcome to stay with me. It’s no trouble.”
"Three to five days," I repeated, trying to process this.
"We'll call the rental company from my cabin, let them know what happened.
This is clearly road failure, not driver error.
They'll have insurance for this kind of thing.
" He gave me a reassuring look. "You're not the first person to get stuck up here, Doc.
These mountain roads are unpredictable, especially after heavy rain. "
I retrieved my purse and my overnight bag that I'd left in the trunk, trying not to think about being stranded on a mountain for a few days with a man who made my pulse race every time he looked at me.
"Ready to find your treasure?" Neil asked, shouldering my additional bag like it weighed nothing.
"Ready," I said, pushing aside my anxiety about the car. I was here for the documents, and I had the best possible guide. Everything else could wait.
The hike to Miller's Station revealed another side of Neil Parker that left me breathless for reasons beyond physical exertion.
He moved through the forest like he was part of it, reading signs in broken branches and animal tracks that were invisible to me.
When I stumbled over roots or struggled with steep terrain, he steadied me.
His hands were large, callused, and surprisingly gentle. Each touch sent sparks up my arm.
"There," he said after an hour of walking, pointing through the trees to what looked like a pile of moss-covered stones.
My heart hammered as we approached the ruins.
This could be it—the site where Underground Railroad conductors had hidden documentation that would prove Burke Mountain's role in the freedom network.
The foundation was barely visible beneath decades of forest growth, but the stone chimney still stood proud against the sky.
"The records mention a root cellar," I said, consulting my research notes. "Storage for supplies and documents."
Neil was already examining the ground near the foundation, his experienced eyes reading the landscape in ways I envied. "Here," he called, kneeling beside what looked like ordinary forest floor. "Depression in the earth, different vegetation pattern."
I hurried over, my excitement building as I saw what he meant. Years of leaf litter covered an area that could have been a cellar but was now mostly filled in by time and nature.
"We need to be careful," I said, pulling on the work gloves I'd borrowed from his supplies. "If there are documents down there, they'll be extremely fragile."
"You're the expert," Neil said, but he was already clearing debris with the kind of care that spoke of someone who understood the value of patience. "Tell me about the Underground Railroad connections," he said as we worked. "What makes you think this area was involved?"
"Logging companies were perfect covers," I explained, carefully removing a section of collapsed timber.
"They employed large numbers of workers, moved equipment and supplies regularly, had legitimate reasons for night operations.
A company sympathetic to the abolitionist cause could hide escaped slaves among their workforce. "
"Smart." Neil lifted a stone that would have taken me both hands and considerable effort, making it look effortless. "Remote location, established supply lines, plenty of places to hide people if authorities came looking."