Soaked with the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Summer 2026 #8)

Dispatch

PAT

The phone rang at six-forty-three, same as it did every morning during high season.

I hit speaker and kept typing, updating the trail conditions log while I talked. "Morning, Burns. You're on Overlook Ridge today. Estimated ten-hour loop, moderate traffic expected."

"Morning to you too, Pat." His voice came through warm and low, the kind that sounded better over the phone than it probably had any right to. "Any weather changes I should know about?"

"Clear skies. Warming up to seventy-five by afternoon. You'll want extra water."

"Always do."

I smiled despite myself. Elliot Burns had been taking SAR assignments for three summers now, and he'd never once needed a reminder about water, first aid kits, or radio protocols. He was steady. Reliable. The kind of seasonal team member who made my job easier instead of harder.

Thiis summer, he was flirting back.

"How's your morning so far?" he asked.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the dispatch board. "Quiet. Two check-ins already, one false alarm from a hiker who thought a marmot was a bear."

"To be fair, marmots can be aggressive."

"Not bear-aggressive."

"True." I heard rustling on his end, probably packing his gear. "You sleep okay?"

That was new. Personal questions.

I liked it more than I should.

"Well enough," I said. "You?"

"Not bad. Had my windows open. Lake was loud last night."

"Storm moving through?"

"Just wind. Sounded like the water was trying to get inside."

"Romantic."

He laughed, quiet, genuine. "That's one word for it."

"What's your word?"

"Restless."

Oh.

That landed somewhere warm in my chest.

I should probably redirect. Get back to trail assignments, weather reports, and all the things that kept our calls professional.

Instead, I said, "Restless how?"

"The good kind. Like something's about to shift." He paused. "Or maybe it already has."

I stopped typing.

We'd danced around this for weeks now, the change in his tone, the way our calls had started lingering past the point where I'd normally hang up. But he'd never said it out loud before.

Never acknowledged that something was different.

"Elliot," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you flirting with me?"

Silence. Then: "Would that be a problem?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're any good at it."

He laughed again, and I felt it all the way through the phone line. "I'm out of practice."

"I've noticed."

"But I'm a fast learner."

"Are you?"

"Give me time. I'll improve."

God, I liked his voice. Liked the way it dropped into something quieter when he wasn't being professional. Liked the hint of gravel underneath the smoothness, like he'd just woken up and hadn't quite shaken off sleep yet.

I'd always liked his voice. But this summer, I was noticing things I shouldn't.

Like how he said my name. How his pauses felt deliberate instead of accidental. How I'd started looking forward to these morning calls for reasons that had nothing to do with trail logistics.

"Pat?" he said.

"Still here."

"I should probably get moving. Daylight's burning."

"Right. Yes." I cleared my throat and pulled up his assignment details. "Radio check at noon. If you're delayed past eighteen hundred hours, call in."

"Copy that."

"And Elliot?"

"Yeah?"

I should tell him to stay safe. Keep it professional. End the call like I did with everyone else.

Instead, I said, "Don't get too good at flirting. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What reputation?"

"The one where I'm better at it than everyone else."

"Noted." His voice was smiling. "I'll stay just mediocre enough to keep you interested."

"Smart man."

"I try."

I ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring at the phone like it had personally done something to me.

Three summers of friendly, professional morning calls with a man whose face I'd never seen but whose voice I could pick out of a crowd.

Something was different.

The door to the dispatch office opened, and Blaze Callahan stuck his head in. "Morning, Pat. Coffee?"

"Please."

He handed me a mug, black, no sugar, the way I always took it, and leaned against the doorframe. "You look distracted."

"I'm never distracted."

"You're smiling at your phone."

"It's a very nice phone."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't push. Blaze had been with SAR long enough to know when to leave things alone. "We're doing a team social next week. Lake party at the north access point. Seasonal staff included."

I looked up. "When?"

"Saturday. Late afternoon. Bring whoever you want."

"I don't bring people to things."

"Then just bring yourself." He straightened. "It'll be good. Food, beer, swimming. Low-key."

"I'll think about it."

"That's a yes."

"It's a maybe."

He grinned and left, and I turned back to my screen.

A party. With seasonal staff.

Which meant Elliot would be there.

Which meant I'd finally see the man who'd been making my mornings feel warmer than they had any right to.

I should've been nervous. Or cautious. Or at least thoughtful about whether meeting him in person was a good idea.

Instead, I was just curious.

Three years of a voice. Three weeks of escalating flirtation.

And in a few days, I'd know if the man matched the low rumble that had been keeping me up at night.

I picked up my coffee and took a sip, already wondering what he looked like when he smiled.