Chapter Five
Vesper
I’m still buzzing from everything that happened at Lookout Rock.
The incredible photos I took, Parker opening up about his past and how the Jacksons took him in, and the way he held me when I told him about my ex-fiancé’s betrayal.
When he put his arms around me, I felt protected and safe for the first time in… well, forever.
“Thank you,” I say as we make our way back down the trail. “For listening to me and for understanding.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share.”
We walk in silence during the hike back to his truck, and I keep stealing glances at him.
This mountain of a man has somehow become extremely important to me in less than forty-eight hours.
The thought of having to leave him after my week here is over fills me with dread.
If only there were a way to spend more time with him.
I can’t, though. He’s already helped me so much today.
He’s also got a job, so I can’t expect him to drive me around town all week.
But maybe he doesn’t have to. I have the perfect idea for an after-hours photoshoot.
Last week, I got an email from Outdoor Living magazine asking for photograph submissions for their upcoming authentic wilderness lifestyle pieces.
I thought I wouldn’t have time to submit something, but the deadline isn’t for a couple of days.
“Parker, what if I told you I had an idea for another photoshoot? One that centers around the whole rugged mountain man lifestyle. You live in a remote cabin, right?”
He frowns. “I do. But… what kind of photoshoot are you thinking?”
“There’s this magazine called Outdoor Living, and they’ve been looking for authentic wilderness lifestyle pieces.
Not the fake stuff, but real people living real lives in remote areas surrounded by wilderness.
I’m talking stuff like cooking over a fire, chopping wood, drinking self-brewed coffee outside a rustic cabin… You’d be perfect for it.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “You want to photograph me?”
“I want to photograph the lifestyle. The way people live up in the mountains, connected to the land. It would be incredible. Do you have a fire pit? Outdoor cooking setup?”
He nods. “I have all of that and more at my cabin.”
My heart skips a beat at his words. His cabin. For this to work, I’d have to be in his private space.
“Would you be willing to let me shoot there?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if I’ve asked for too much, but then he says, “Yeah. I’d be willing.”
“Really?”
“Really. But first, we’ll need supplies if we’re going to do this right. Like fresh ingredients for cooking over a fire.”
He turns the truck toward Main Street. “Let’s stop at Joy’s store. She’ll have everything we need.”
We pull up to the Maple Ridge General Store, and I immediately fall in love with it. The wood siding is perfectly maintained, with cute seasonal fall decorations. A couple of rocking chairs sit on the front porch, and everything about it screams cozy small-town charm.
“This place is adorable,” I say as we walk up the front steps.
“Joy’s been running it forever. She knows everyone and everything that happens in this town.”
The moment we step inside, I’m hit with the scent of cinnamon and coffee.
The wooden floors creak pleasantly under our feet, and handwritten price signs are posted throughout the store.
It’s exactly what I’d expect from a small mountain town with its perfect mix of everyday essentials and local handmade goods.
“Parker!” A plump woman with the warmest smile I’ve ever seen bustles over to us. “And you must be the photographer everyone’s been talking about.”
People are talking about me?
“Vesper,” I say, extending my hand.
Instead of shaking it, she pulls me into a hug. “I’m Joy Munson. Welcome to my little corner of the world.”
“Thank you. Your store is beautiful.”
“Oh, honey, you’re as sweet as pie.” She looks between Parker and me. “So what brings you two in together today? Planning something special?”
Parker clears his throat. “We need supplies for outdoor cooking. Vesper wants to do a photo shoot.”
“A photo shoot with our Parker?” Joy’s eyes light up. “Well, isn’t that something! You know, Parker’s one of the best outdoorsmen in these mountains. If anyone can show you authentic wilderness living, it’s him.”
I smile. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”
“You picked the right man for the job,” Joy says with a wink.
“Parker’s been taking care of himself up in that cabin for years.
Grows his own vegetables, hunts, fishes, cooks everything over an open fire when the mood strikes him.
And the Jacksons always praise him for his work at Jackson’s Orchard. ”
A couple of other customers wander in, and I notice them glancing our way with curious expressions. Wow. Word travels fast in small towns.
“What do you need for this photo shoot?” Joy asks, leading us toward the food section.
“Basic ingredients,” Parker says. “Something I can cook over the fire that’ll look good for the camera.”
As we walk through the aisles, I’m charmed by the eclectic mix of items—canned goods placed next to handmade quilts, and fishing lures near locally made soaps. A bulletin board by the register is covered in flyers.
“How about a nice steak?” Joy suggests. “And some fresh vegetables for roasting?”
We’re gathering ingredients when the door chimes and two men in their thirties walk in, clearly locals.
“Hey, Parker,” one of them calls out before his gaze lands on me.
Parker tenses beside me, and his hand moves to rest on my lower back. It’s a small but possessive gesture that sends heat shooting through me.
“Jake, Tommy,” he acknowledges with a nod.
“This the photographer?” The one called Jake looks me up and down appreciatively. “I’m Jake Morrison. If you need any other locals to photograph, I’d be happy to volunteer.”
The flirtation in his tone is obvious, and Parker’s hand presses more firmly against my back.
“Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need,” I say politely.
“Come on now, Jake,” Joy interjects with a smile. “Can’t you see these two are busy? Besides,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “you know what they say about Maple Ridge in the fall…”
“That when the leaves fall in Maple Ridge, the mountain men fall too,” Tommy finishes with a grin, giving me a wink.
Parker’s jaw tightens, and possessive energy radiates off him. He quickly gathers everything we need and pays Joy before I can so much as blink.
What was that all about? The weight of his hand on my back, possessive and protective, like he wanted everyone to know I’m his.
My stomach somersaults at the idea. I can hardly breathe the entire drive to Parker’s cabin because I realize that nothing about this is professional anymore. I want more. I want… him.
“Here we are,” Parker says, pulling into a gravel driveway.
His cabin takes my breath away. It’s not some rustic shack. It’s a beautiful log home nestled among tall pines, with a wraparound porch and large windows that must offer incredible views.
“Parker, this is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” He grabs our bags from the store, and I follow him up the porch steps. “I built most of it myself.”
Of course he did. Is there anything this man can’t do?
“The light out back will be perfect for photos,” he says, setting the groceries on a rustic wooden table. “And the fire pit is already set up.”
I nod, pulling out my camera, but I’m distracted by how domestic this feels. Like we’re a couple planning dinner together instead of a photographer and her subject.
“Should we start with you building up the fire?” I ask, trying to refocus on work.
“Sure.” He heads outside, and I follow him.
I watch as he builds the fire with practiced ease. His muscles flex under his flannel shirt as he arranges the logs, and I find myself taking more pictures of him than of the actual fire. He won’t mind if I keep some for my personal collection, will he?
When he starts preparing the food, seasoning the steak, and wrapping vegetables in foil, I can’t stop shooting. There’s something primal and deeply attractive about watching him work with his hands, completely in his element.
“You’re a natural at this,” I say, moving closer to get a close-up shot of the fire.
We’re inches apart from each other now, and my heart won’t stop racing. When our arms touch, he stops in his tracks and turns to me.
“Vesper,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something. Now. Before we continue this photoshoot. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
“Okay,” I say with a shaking voice.
“I feel things for you that I’ve never felt before. I know it sounds crazy. But I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not falling for you. Tell me you feel it too,” he says, his voice rough. “Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
“You’re not imagining it. I feel it too. God, I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Something fierce and primal flashes in his eyes. “Vesper.”
Then his hands are cupping my face. His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, and I’m drowning in the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I caught you in that orchard,” he growls.
His lips crash against mine with raw need, like he’s been holding back for too long and finally snapped. His mouth moves against mine with hungry desperation, claiming me completely.
And I let him. I grab his shirt and pull him closer. One of his arms wraps around my waist, hauling me against his hard chest, while his other hand tangles in my hair.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my lips, the word vibrating through my body. “You’re mine, Vesper.”
The possessive declaration should scare me. Instead, it sends liquid heat through my veins. I’ve never been claimed like this, never felt so completely wanted by a man.
“Yes, I am,” I breathe against his mouth, surprising myself with how easily the words come.
But I mean them. Fuck, I want to be his. Forever.
“Christ, Vesper. What are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I whisper.
His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave either.”
It’s true. I came here for a job, with plans to return to Charleston and rebuild my career. But standing here in Parker’s arms, with the taste of him on my lips, Charleston feels like another lifetime.
“Then stay,” he says as he picks me up and carries me inside his cabin.