Scorching Mountain Man (Hot Mountain Nights 2)

Chapter 1

Clover

I’m an experienced social media influencer and I’ve done hundreds of solo hikes. I even spent six months hiking the Appalachian trail. While my posts and photos are pretty with my signature aesthetic I’m used to the bugs, sweat, and discomfort.

But the guided hiking tour I’m on in Crescent Ridge, Colorado does have one thing I’m ill-prepared for.

Simon Fitzpatrick. The firefighter-paramedic, and all-around hunk.

His dirty-blonde hair floats around his ears, the golden strands interwoven with brown highlights that make his green eyes sparkle.

We met at the tourist center when I stopped by to speak with Gloria.

She’s hired me to do a PR tour for the small mountain town.

Nothing too crazy. Some hiking vids and a few social media posts showcasing local shops and businesses.

Sponsorships are easy. Men? They might as well be from a different planet.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t need a filter to make his skin glow, or a bodysuit to help him fill out his T-shirt. The man is ripped, and dripping with sex appeal.

He could make thirst traps online to pay his bills but instead he’s working as a first responder.

That’s right. He’s gorgeous, and noble. Kill me now.

Gloria introduced us, but I was too tongue-tied to speak. My normally bubbly personality failed me at a crucial moment, and I was left staring at the man like a lunatic.

Not that he seemed to mind. I’m sure he’s used to his effect on women by now.

“You don’t normally volunteer for the hikes,” Gloria said when he asked what time my group was leaving.

“I need the fresh air,” he replied with a grin that made my thighs squeeze together. “I’ve been cooped up at the station for too damn long.”

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head, but she sent him along with my group all the same. Having a first responder attached to every tour group is something I’ll make sure to include in my video.

I’m no stranger to the dangers of solo hiking, and even groups can run into trouble in isolated areas. Having a trained professional could make the difference in a life-or-death situation.

My only issue with Simon is my inability to talk when the man is near. And he stayed close by. Even when I purposely walked slower, his strides shortened to match mine. The entire hike he is never more than two feet away, and his proximity is making it impossible for me to record anything!

Our group is an odd mix. A teenage couple that complains loudly about the heat, an older man who has a monogrammed walking stick, and three college students who I can confidently say are too hungover for this hike.

I wait for one of the students to draw Simon’s attention with a question, and I step off the trail. I stay in view of the group, but I spin around so that the background for my video is a mix of big beautiful sky and some of the mountain brush.

“Hey everybody,” I say to my camera. Ignoring the low buzzing of some nearby insects I do my best to film a quick intro. It’ll pair well with the b-roll footage I’ve been filming.

I feel a sharp pinch on my arm, and I look down to see my mortal enemy. Yellow and black, the bumblebee crawls along my arm before flying away. I notice the blue flowers off to the side of my chosen location and the bees gathering pollen.

Shit. It starts with my tongue feeling too big for my mouth. Swallowing instinctively my throat feels scratchy. Stumbling towards the group panic sets in.

I didn’t tell anyone about my allergy.

“H-Hel-p,” I try to say stuttering through the word.

Patting my pockets aggressively, I can’t draw a good breath, and I can’t find my pen. I don’t remember falling, just one moment I was walking forward and then the ground was rising to meet me.

“Allergic reaction,” I hear a deep voice say. “Patient is experiencing anaphylactic shock.”

My breath comes out in short wheezing gasps. My lungs burn with the need for air. The short bursts aren’t enough to sustain me.

The edges of my vision blur as I become lightheaded.

“She has an EpiPen.”

I feel the stick in my thigh. Moments later I already feel the effects. The swelling in my throat goes down and I can finally draw a full deep breath.

“Thatta girl,” that same voice praises me. “Slow deep breaths.”