Chapter 5 Everly
EVERLY
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Heck, I don’t even recognize myself right now—swimming in a lake in nothing but my bra and panties with a man I met yesterday.
I wasn’t expecting Gunnar to be here. Sure, I hoped he would be, but when I left Amelia’s cabin, I was full of doubts.
I started to think I was being crazy, blowing my whole meeting with Gunnar out of proportion, and at one point, I even convinced myself not to come at all.
But I only held out a few hours before I ended up back on the trail, heading straight for Lover’s Lake.
And suddenly, there he was.
I almost collapsed when I saw him standing in the water, looming out of the lake like an iceberg.
Then I caught sight of his clothes piled up on the bank: plaid shirt, dark jeans…
and his boxers. Gunnar is naked right now, and I’m swimming toward him, close enough to touch him.
It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once—enough to suck the breath from my lungs.
The water is cold, but not as cold as I expected.
And when Gunnar meets my eye, the temperature of the lake is the last thing on my mind.
Only his shoulders are visible above the water, stupidly broad, his tan skin lined with ink.
I spy a jagged scar on his right shoulder, remembering what Amelia said about his physiotherapy sessions, and I feel a fresh wave of curiosity as I look at him.
God, he’s so handsome.
Up close, I can see the threads of silver in his beard and the sharp angles of his jaw beneath it.
I can see the way his dark eyes soften to gray in the sunlight, crinkled with crow’s feet at the edges.
His age only makes him sexier, ruggedly mature and so unlike all the boys on campus who my college friends used to date.
Gunnar is all man. Big, burly, and built for the wild.
“You came back,” he says when I reach him, his voice so gruff that I can’t tell if he’s happy to see me or not.
“Yes.” I force a smile, but it’s hard to make my face move normally when all I can think about is that Gunnar is naked under the water. “I like this trail. It’s one of my favorites.”
He cocks his head, water dripping from his dark hair. “How come I’ve never seen you out here before yesterday?”
“I was away for four years at college. I only got back last week. Before that, I used to come out here all the time with my parents. They live up in Winterdale now, but we still go hiking together sometimes.”
Gunnar nods. His gaze is just as intense as yesterday, like he’s trying to solve a crucial puzzle and the answer is hidden in my face.
“What did you study at college?”
“Environmental science. I want to be a wildlife biologist.”
“Suits you.” Gunnar’s mouth tugs into what looks like the ghost of a smile. “Seems like you know how to handle yourself in the wild.”
I warm at the praise. It’s a pretty big compliment coming from a mountain man.
“Thanks. I’ve always loved nature. I could talk about this mountain for hours. Heck, I wrote one of my papers on the effect of Cherry Mountain’s snowmelt on the mating patterns of alpine beetles. It’s pretty fascinating—”
My mouth is running away with me before I can stop it, but Gunnar doesn’t seem to mind as I prattle on about alpine beetles before moving onto the grazing patterns of mountain goats instead. He listens patiently until I finally run out of steam.
“Sorry,” I say, wincing at myself. “I always get carried away when I talk about this stuff.”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is firm and growly, like he’s giving an order. “You’ve found your passion. You’ll be a great wildlife biologist.”
I smile at him, my chest squeezing with affection. “Thank you. I hope so. I just need to find a placement. It’s a competitive field.”
“It will come.” He says it with such certainty, like he has full faith in me, and it sends a tingle of delight down my spine.
“What about you?” I ask eagerly. “Is being a mountain guide your passion?”
“No.”
His answer is so blunt and grumpy that I almost laugh, but I restrain myself, curiosity taking over.
“You don’t like it?”
Gunnar pauses, scowling into the distance like he’s thinking hard.
“I like being out here all day,” he says. “Can’t complain about that. But damn, some of the hikers drive me nuts. Would prefer to work alone.”
“So why do you do it?” I ask tentatively.
He’s quiet again for a moment, running a hand through his wet hair.
“I’m a lumberjack by trade. That’s my passion. But I had to give it up.”
The heaviness in his voice makes my chest sink. “I’m sorry, Gunnar. Was that because of your shoulder injury?”
His brow furrows. “Who told you about that?”
Shoot.
I realize a second too late that I’ve put my foot in my mouth, but I can’t take it back now.
“My sister works at the hospital,” I tell him. “She mentioned you’ve been going to physio appointments.”
Gunnar’s expression is unreadable as he says, “You been talking to your sister about me?”
It’s not what I expected him to say, and I feel my cheeks flame as I remember gushing about Gunnar’s hotness to Amelia yesterday. The answer must be written all over my face. I don’t know how to respond. I open my mouth and close it again like a fish, spluttering, “I…well…it wasn’t—”
I’m saved from answering by the sound of voices.
Gunnar and I both whip around, and in the distance, I can see a group approaching the lake.
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my chest, suddenly feeling exposed.
I was so lost in my own little bubble with Gunnar that I forgot anybody else existed, and something about hearing other people nearby has shattered the moment.
Then I feel a hand under the water, Gunnar’s fingers threading through mine, his grip tight.
“Follow me,” he mutters.
I do as he says and let him drag me away through the water, my heart thumping at his touch.
Follow me.
Heck, I’m starting to think I’d follow this man anywhere.