Chapter Seven
THEY STOPPED TO REST and have a snack, but before too long, they were off again.
Emma had assumed that the way down would be easier—and it mostly was.
But keeping her balance on some of the steeper sections had her resolving to buy some boots and proper hiking poles as soon as she got back into town.
There had to be some sort of outdoor-adventure gear store in the area.
Hunter would know. Heck, maybe he’d even want to go with her…
She cut off that line of thought before she could get carried away. He’d made himself very clear. He wasn’t interested in getting involved. They might hang out some more, or even go hiking again, but she needed to keep her expectations in check.
Which was for the best. Clearly, they shared chemistry, and she was pleased to find that she genuinely enjoyed his company. But she was in no position to be starting a new relationship, so soon after her last one had imploded on her. It was helpful to know that they were both on the same page.
About halfway down, they paused again for a drink. The view through the trees wasn’t as stunning as the one from the top had been, but she snapped a few pictures anyway.
She paused, glancing up at Hunter. “So, I know I promised not to share the photos I took of the two of us, but it’s okay if I post other pictures I took today, right? Ones that don’t have you in them.”
He frowned, a sexy, grumpy V forming between his brows. “I thought you quit social media?”
“I’m on a leave of absence from my personal accounts,” she allowed. “But like I said, I have professional accounts on a couple of platforms, too.”
Recapping his water bottle, he stowed it away, shaking his head as he did. “What do people even post about, ‘professionally’?”
It was adorable, how mystified he seemed by the very idea, and she liked that he was unselfconscious enough to ask.
“All kinds of things. For me, it’s mostly book stuff.” That had been one relief of managing to get a new job at a bookstore—most of her content had only required a small pivot to stay relevant.
He chuckled, leading the way as they started walking again. “Really? Reading is, like, the most offline hobby there is.”
Then it was her turn to laugh. “Seriously? Bookworms are super online. Connecting with other readers is honestly the best part about social media. Sharing book recommendations, hate-reading really popular series, fangirling about favorite authors, or fan-casting imaginary movie adaptations.”
“Wow, okay. If you say so.”
She gave him a playful swat on the arm, keeping things light, but in reality, he’d struck a bit of a nerve. “Don’t make fun.”
“I’m not—I just don’t get it.”
“Clearly.”
Neither had Brock. He’d thought it was silly to sit there, watching clips of super readers dishing about their favorite stories, or making aesthetic content of her own to connect with fellow book lovers.
Being active on social media had been an important part of her job, but he’d never understood that she actually enjoyed it, too.
Not that she’d really done a great job of making her case. Considering how dismissive Brock could be, she’d kind of given up on trying to explain things like that.
But Hunter was looking at her with this open, curious expression, like he was silently inviting her to help him understand her point of view.
And, well… why not?
They were on a fairly level stretch of trail, so she scrolled through her photo roll to some of the pictures she’d taken earlier, while he’d been working.
“See? There’s a whole hashtag about ‘places you can read,’ where people brag about reading in all sorts of places you wouldn’t expect. I’m going to put a few of these up.”
She showed him a particularly artistic shot of her book, staged aesthetically on her lap with a pretty bookmark and a few leaves. With the forest and the wood-chip-strewn trail gently blurred in the background, it evoked a real cozy nature vibe.
He hummed in thought. “I guess I can see the appeal of that.”
Putting her phone away, she asked, “Does the preserve really not have any internet presence at all?”
“I mean, we’ve got a website.” He scratched the side of his beard as if in thought. “And a couple of accounts on the big platforms, but no one wants to maintain them, so they’re basically just for announcements. Closures, hazards, that kind of thing.”
“So you’ve got about ten followers, is what you’re saying.”
“Maybe twenty.” One corner of his mouth pulled up, making it clear he knew she was laughing with him, not at him.
And that sly, secret smile made him so handsome that it tugged at something deep within her—almost painfully.
She forced herself to look away. “Well, if you ever want help trying to get to thirty, let me know. I understand that it’s not your thing, but it really can be useful for reaching people.
You could definitely get more visitors. Maybe teach more poor people like me how to get started hiking and enjoying the outdoors more. ”
“I don’t know that you can teach people about the outdoors from a screen,” he said grumpily, and heaven help her, the man was a meme just waiting to happen.
“It’s a shame you’re such a grandpa when it comes to tech.” A sexy, sexy grandpa—which was a deeply disturbing phrase, but she couldn’t help that it was true. “Because the internet would eat you up.”
“I doubt that.”
“Oh, they would.” She made vague hand gestures at him. “Your whole gruff-guy thing is absolute follower bait.”
Gruff and hot, but she managed to keep that last part in her head.
“Gruff-guy thing?”
He sounded skeptical, but she wasn’t buying it.
“Oh, please. Don’t pretend you don’t project an image.
” Were they too new of acquaintances for her to be ribbing him quite this much?
Maybe, but the easy intimacy they’d shared today had her throwing caution to the wind.
She cast her voice low and rumbly in an intentionally terrible mockery of him.
“‘Hi, I’m Hunter. I don’t like phones or people. I hate puppies.”
“I actually like puppies.” He winked, nudging her with his elbow. “As long as they’re going to grow up to be big, growly dogs. No little yappy dogs that fit in purses.”
She put her hand to her heart. “Not even dachshunds?”
“I’m not a monster. Hot-dog dogs are okay. But that’s the limit. Any smaller than that and you might as well get a gerbil.”
“You’re kind of a monster, but that’s all part of your charm.”
“So you think I’m charming?” He blinked, like even he was surprised he’d said something so openly flirtatious.
Swallowing, she slowed her pace a fraction. Her heart was beating too hard, but unlike the first part of their hike, she couldn’t blame it on the exertion. Delicately, she said, “I think you have your charms.”
There. That wasn’t a lie, and if it wasn’t the whole truth either, that was okay. She definitely didn’t need to go telling him exactly how charmed she was right now.
They lapsed into silence for a minute—not uncomfortable but not as easy as it had been before. The fresh air around them suddenly had a charged quality to it.
Finally, Hunter cleared his throat. “It’s actually not a terrible idea, you know.”
“What?” Her thoughts instantly darted back to her ideas about making out on the side of the trail from earlier.
“The—uh, social media stuff.”
Oh. Well, that was disappointing, but she grasped onto it anyway. “Really?”
“Whoa, whoa, don’t get too excited.” He held his hands up in front of his chest. “I’m not saying I’m going to jump in with both feet tomorrow.”
“I would never have dared to presume.”
“But the park is having issues with declining visitors. If we could… How did you put it? Reach more people? That might be something.”
“For sure,” she agreed, excited at the prospect of being able to help. She gestured around. “This place is gorgeous. If you could get more eyeballs on how pretty it is, I bet folks would flock here.”
And that was to say nothing of how pretty he was. If he got some social media fans, they’d flock here just to see him, too.
“The powers that be would love that,” he said wryly.
And that gave her pause.
“You can’t go into it entirely cynically, though. People know when they’re being sold something.” At his raised eyebrows, she clarified. “I mean, they know full well they’re being sold something. But savvy users can smell inauthentic shilling a mile away.”
The reason she’d had any success at all with social media was that she genuinely loved books. Working for a small publishing company, she’d been excited to share information about the titles her colleagues had poured their hearts and souls into.
“Is there something you actually want to share?” she asked. “Some reason beyond ‘the powers that be’ giving you a hard time about your visitor numbers?”
He considered the question for a long moment—so long that she almost wondered if he was going to reply at all.
But then he breathed out deeply. “I know you’re just going to call me a grandpa again, but I do worry that not enough people get out here anymore, you know?
Fresh air and nature… they do something to you. Something you can feel right here.”
He tapped his chest, and something inside her own ribs squeezed. This was clearly important to him, and the fact that he was including her in it made her feel special in a way she couldn’t entirely explain.
“Everyone’s addicted to their phones.” He shot her a look. “I know, I know. Grandpa.”
She held up her hands. “I didn’t say anything.”