Rescued By the Mountain Man (Crystal Falls #1)

Chapter 1

Annie

I’m typically not the girl who gets nervous about a little nature.

But Savannah, the inn’s receptionist, is giving me the kind of look you would give someone about to slow-dance barefoot through a rattlesnake pit.

She’s got this ‘I’ve seen it all’ vibe going on…

latte-colored hair pulled back in a messy bun, chipped nail polish, and eyes that judge a person with no mercy.

She leans over the counter, chewing gum, and oozing small-town skepticism. “So, you’re going on this hike, up Raven’s Ridge… alone?” Her eyebrows climb halfway to her hairline, and I know she’s sizing me up…neon-pink Nikes, ‘adventure-proof’ raincoat, the works.

I hit her with my best I-totally-got-this smile, the one I use when my life is actually on fire, a raging shitshow.

“That’s the plan. It’s either hiking or another day of doom-scrolling through social media and the dread of self-realization.

I figured being surrounded by trees and nature is healthier than Twitter, right? ”

She snorts, blows a perfect pink bubble that pops loud enough to make my inner child cringe. Her eyes move up and down, taking in my outfit like she’s mentally writing my obituary. “You’re not from the country, are you? Girl, have you ever been hiking before?”

“Guilty as charged. Charlotte… born and raised. And no. Is it that obvious?”

Savannah only nods and pops her gum again.

“Just don’t wander off the trail, okay?” she says, her tone turning dead serious.

“City folk come out here, think the woods are just a good story for their Instagram. Then they get cocky, take a shortcut, and wind up on a missing person poster at the post office. If you see clouds rolling in, you turn around. Don’t wait.

Mother Nature doesn’t give warning shots around here. ”

I place my hand over my heart. “Promise. I have zero desire to star in the new season of some true-crime series on Netflix.”

Her lips twist into a smirk. “Good. If you’re not back by dinner, I’ll send a search party. Or at least text you a warning meme.”

“Or you might want to check The Cozy Corner first,” I say, hoisting my backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. “If I’m not back, I’ve probably OD’d on cinnamon rolls.”

She laughs, shakes her head, and I’m out the door, half buzzing with excitement and half a little worried she might be right.

The old wraparound porch creaks under my feet as I step into the sharp, piney air.

Sunlight slants through the trees, instantly warming my face.

I pause for a second, taking a deep breath, and for a brief moment, I actually feel alive, like all my broken pieces are being stitched back together by mountain air and the sound of birds chirping.

My sneakers crunch on gravel as I hit the trail. The world smells alive…wet earth, sap, and the kind of fresh you can’t buy in a bottle. I tap my phone, crank up my playlist, and let the music fill the spaces in my head that are usually occupied by endless work emails and anxiety meltdowns.

I’m actually enjoying myself, half-dancing to Lizzo, swinging my water bottle like a backup dancer in a music video nobody asked for.

The deeper I go into the woods, the quieter it gets…

just the wind rustling the dead leaves, the distant rush of water somewhere, and birds flying over the mossy rocks.

For the first time in months, I’m surrounded by nothing but space, nature, and the steady beating of my heart.

Savannah’s warning replays in my mind: stay on the trail. I spot the trail markers, little wooden arrows nailed to trees. Honestly, it’s a little cute. I roll my eyes. “How hard can it be? It’s idiot-proof,” I mutter. “Even for me.”

That’s when the sky goes dark. Not just a little gray, but full-on, end-of-days, Old Testament, dark.

Because why not, it’s me. I have the luck of a black cat breaking a mirror under a ladder.

The first raindrop is cold and fat, hitting my nose. Then the sky opens up, dumping buckets of rain. I shriek, yank my hood up, and try to wipe the water from my eyes. My phone buzzes, probably Savannah with a meme, but it’s too late now. I can barely see my own hands, let alone a trail marker.

I spin around, searching. All I see is green, brown, and more green. Where the hell did the path go? All the trees blur together; it looks like a hundred dark shapes coming at me. My stomach drops so hard I actually feel dizzy.

Shit.

The markers are gone. Did I walk in a circle? Did the rain wash them away? Or did I just do the impossible and get lost on the world’s easiest hiking trail?

“Okay, Annie, keep it together,” I say, but my voice sounds strained; even I don’t recognize it. “Worst case, you get mud up your ass and a story for Insta.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out a little unhinged.

Water seeps through my jacket, trailing my spine, down to where it’s starting to pool in my socks.

My shoes squish with every step. My phone is no help; the screen fogs instantly, and there’s exactly zero bars of service.

I’ve gone completely off the grid, literally.

I randomly pick a direction and go with it.

I stumble, trying to squint through sheets of rain, my arms crossed tight over my chest. At least I’m not at work, right?

At least I’m not formatting spreadsheets for my boss, who’s probably allergic to sunlight.

At least if I die out here, my mom will have to use my dental records and my mortifying playlist to identify me.

A crack of thunder splits through the air, so loud I nearly jump out of my skin. I hug myself tighter, shivering. “You wanted an adventure, Annie. Here’s your damn adventure.”

Just as the words leave my mouth, my toe gets caught on a root, and I go down, hands-first into the mud.

“Damn it!” I yell.

I’m already soaked, now muddy, shaking, and practically in tears. This is it. My embarrassing, soggy end. I’m going to die out here.

Then, through the blur, I see it…a glow. Warm, golden flickering just ahead. I get myself up and start moving toward it, hope and excitement rising in my chest. Please let it be real. Please don’t let it be some serial killer hideaway in the woods.

At this point, I’m willing to take my chances.

As I get closer, it turns into a cabin. My actual, honest-to-God salvation. I break out into a run, mud flying, as I rush up the rickety wooden steps, fists pounding on the door.

“Hello? Is anyone…please, I’m lost!”

The door swings open. So hard, I think it’s about to fly off the hinges. “What is going on out here?” A large figure comes barreling out, nearly knocking me out of the way. In two strides, he’s at the edge of the porch, looking right then left, up and down the yard.

Spinning back around, he pins me with his intense gaze. “Who the hell are you?”

Holy. Shit.

It was at that exact moment that everything…the rain, my fear and panic, the way my lungs are burning…all of it, completely goes away.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. A mountain in a flannel shirt, broad shoulders, muscles straining against the fabric, dirty boots, standing with his fists clenched at his sides like he’s ready for a fight…dirty blond hair, a jaw sharp with stubble.

He says nothing. Just stares, looking back at me with a set of blue eyes that are stormy and dangerous, taking me in from head to toe. I know I look like a drowned rat, with blonde hair plastered to my face, mascara streaked down my cheeks. Every ounce of dignity gone.

“You lost, princess?” This time, his voice sounds low and gravelly, with just a hint of threat.

The nickname isn’t endearing at all; it’s a test. I square my shoulders, but my voice betrays me, coming out as a squeak. “Yeah. The trail went away. Or I did. Sorry, I just…the rain, I couldn’t…”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, biceps bulging, mouth set in a line that says I’m barely worth his time. “You got a death wish, wandering out here alone? Or just a bit crazy?”

“Both, apparently,” I shoot back. The sass is weak, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. “I was doing fine until the sky opened and tried to drown me.”

“Women,” he grunts, and I swear it sounds almost like a laugh. Is he mocking me? Stepping aside, he motions toward the door. “Get your ass in the house before you freeze to death, and I’ve got a bigger situation to deal with.”

I’m not sure whether to be offended or grateful. So, I brush past him, stepping inside.

“Wow.”

The words come out of my mouth before I have time to think about anything else. His cabin is absolutely gorgeous.

No, I take that back…it’s primal.

There’s a floor-to-ceiling, stone fireplace sitting directly in the middle of the house, burning real wood…

not those gas logs most people have, worn rustic beams run across the structure of the high ceilings, and a leather sectional sits along the perimeter of the living area.

On the far wall are antlers hanging above a bookshelf packed with old, worn paperback books, and yep…

there’s a bottle of whiskey that looks like it could get me drunk in one sip.

The whole place smells like cedar and spice, but there’s also a hint of something darker.

Him.

I catch his eye, and my heart does this little flip thing.

He huffs and stalks toward the kitchen. Is he angry that I’m here? He comes back almost immediately with a towel, tossing it at me. “You know these woods eat idiots for breakfast, right?”

I wrap the towel around my shoulders, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. “Well, then, consider me chewed.”

He’s not amused. “Next time, check the weather. Or don’t. Less work for me.”

“What’s with the attitude? You sound like you’d rather the woods just swallow me up than me be here.”

He shrugs, not denying it. “People don’t belong out here unless they know what the hell they’re doing. Which, from the looks of it, you have no clue.”

I glare at him, my hands shaking with anger. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Grizzly Adams.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t give in to it. “You want tea or something stronger?”

“Tea is fine.”

I follow him to the kitchen, noticing how every motion he makes is intentional and sharp.

His hands are big, scarred, with veins that trail up his forearms like rivers.

I watch, mesmerized, as he pours steaming hot water into a mug, sliding it across the counter toward me.

I reach for it, and our fingers brush…his skin is hot.

The electricity between us makes my face flush.

I clear my throat and force myself to look away, searching for something, anything to distract me, filling the silence. “So…do you always make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress, or am I a special case?”

He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, his face unreadable. “Most people don’t make it out this far; they stick to the path. The town is full of warnings. Guess you missed them.”

I squint, holding his gaze, refusing to let him see my flinch. “Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

A muscle in his jaw flexes. “No, maybe about it, princess.”

The air between us is undeniably thick, charged. He’s not flirting. If anything, he’s sizing me up, trying to figure out how much trouble I’m going to be. He makes me feel stripped bare, like he can see every reckless flaw in me, and he doesn’t care. Or maybe he does, and that’s even worse.

“You can hang your coat by the fire. It’ll dry faster that way. Or you can just keep leaking all over my floor.”

I fumble with the zipper, the fabric material is plastered to my skin, making every movement to get the stupid thing off awkward.

I can feel his eyes on me, lingering, and I swear he’s not hating the show.

When I finally peel my way out of it, tossing it onto the nearest chair, I collapse onto the edge of the leather couch, still shivering.

He reappears with a flannel shirt in hand. “Put this on,” he grunts. “The bathroom is down the hall. Throw your wet stuff out, and I’ll put them in the dryer.”

Everything in me wants to be defiant…refuse. But what sense would that make? Without a word, I yank the shirt out of his hand, ducking into the bathroom. Honestly, I can’t get out of these wet clothes fast enough, tossing them out like he said.

I pull the flannel over my head, taking in my reflection in the mirror.

The thing is fucking huge, fitting me like a dress.

It smells like woodsmoke and man, and something else I’m not ready to name.

I catch another glimpse of myself, this time noticing my wild hair, pink cheeks, eyes wide, and a little wild.

When I’m finally done trying to make myself look as presentable as I can, I walk out, noticing he’s nowhere around, and my wet clothes are also missing. His absence is both a relief and a disappointment.

I hover by the fire, wrapping the flannel tighter around me, trying not to imagine how he would look if he were the one wearing nothing but this shirt.

He reappears, this time from a different hallway, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, and one eyebrow cocked. “So, what’s your name, city girl?”

I look up, meeting his gaze. “Annie. And you are…?”

There’s a pause, like he’s debating whether or not he wants to answer. “Garrett Hall.”

“Garrett,” I repeat it, reaching for the tea I left sitting before I went to change.

He keeps standing there, watching me, his face unreadable. “You always this much of a disaster, Annie?”

I grin, hiding behind the rim of the mug. “Not usually. But I’m full of surprises.”

Something comes across his eyes…a challenge, an invitation, a warning. For a second, it feels like we are the only two people left in the world, the storm outside nonexistent. I want to touch him, to see if he’s as solid as he looks, to find out what kind of trouble we could make together.

But I don’t. I can’t.

I just sip my tea, my heart pounding, already thinking of ways I can get this grumpy man to smile…or maybe just see if I can make him growl.

Either way, I’m not leaving this cabin any time soon.