Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jenny
We stand there for a beat after he finishes coiling the rope, like neither of us is in a hurry to move.
I clear my throat and glance toward the trail. It should feel easy now. Flat trail. Clear path. No bad decisions in progress.
And yet I'm aware of him. Standing there, watching to make sure I don't immediately wander off into another ravine.
“Well, I guess I should be getting home,” I say. “Thanks, again.”
His eyes meet mine, and now I can see they’re a striking baby blue. “Maybe I should walk with you.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, that I don’t need a babysitter, but instead I hear myself say, “Okay. Thanks.”
We fall into step beside each other. Or more accurately, I walk and he walks slightly behind and to the side.
It's noticeable, the width of him in my peripheral vision. The quiet, unhurried pace of him.
Roxy trots between us and the whole thing feels… nice. Like this mysterious mountain man, his dog, and I are a unit. We couldn’t be more different, and yet it feels right.
We walk a little farther. The trees thin slightly, and I recognize a bend in the trail near where it connects to the path behind my rental.
"Okay," I say, slowing. "I'm just off this way."
I gesture toward a smaller trail that cuts through the trees.
Micah looks at it, then at me. "That’s your house?”
“Yes.” I shift my weight, suddenly aware that this is the part where the normal script says to thank him again, go inside, and forget this ever happened. Get back to the regular scheduled monotony of my life.
Which is fine. That's fine. I’m perfectly content with my life.
Or I was, before I knew of Micah’s existence. Now, I find myself not wanting to part ways quite yet.
I turn toward him. "Thank you," I say. "Again. For the rescue.”
He nods once. "Stay on the trail," he says.
I huff out a breath. "You're really committed to that line, huh?"
"It keeps people out of trouble.”
Indeed. But maybe trouble is what I want at the moment…
“I owe you dinner,” I blurt. “To properly say thanks.”
Micah's gaze sharpens. "You don't owe me anything.”
"I do," I insist. "You put yourself in danger to rescue me. At a minimum, that deserves a nice meal.”