"Act normal," I tell him. "Whatever that means."
When Rowan appears through the trees, my heart does that ridiculous flip again. He's dressed in his usual flannel and work boots, hair slightly damp like he's just showered, and there's a new tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. He carries a small backpack and a walking stick that he hands to me.
"Morning." His voice is gruff, but his eyes linger on mine a beat longer than usual.
"Morning." I accept the stick, our fingers brushing. The familiar spark is there, stronger now that we know what it means. "So, hidden waterfall?"
"If you're up for it." He glances at my boots. I’m wearing proper hiking boots, though I've replaced the laces with sparkly purple ones. "It's a bit of a climb in places."
"I've been practicing my trail reading," I say, aiming for our usual teasing tone. "Haven't fallen into any muddy creeks for at least three days."
Something that might be a smile tugs at his lips. "A new record."
"I'm very accomplished."
Rascal chooses this moment to get his leash completely tangled around both our legs, effectively binding us together. I laugh nervously, bending to fix it just as Rowan does the same. Our heads bump gently.
"Sorry," we say in unison.
"I've got it." His hands are sure and steady as they work on the leash, though I notice a slight tremor when his knuckles brush my calf.
"Thanks."
When we're free, an awkward silence falls. So much for acting normal.
"Ready?" He gestures to the trail.
"Lead the way, Forest Guardian."
He gives me a look, but there's warmth in it. As we start hiking, I search for our usual rhythm, the comfortable banter that's become my favorite part of these mornings.
"So, this waterfall. Is it guarded by woodland creatures? Do I need a secret password? Will Gordon the Mayor be there to give us the key to the forest?"
"It's just a waterfall, Daisy." But his tone has softened.
"Nothing is ever just anything." I follow him up a steeper section of trail. "Not in these mountains."
He glances back at me, something unreadable in his expression. "No. I guess not."
We hike in more comfortable silence after that, Rowan occasionally pointing out trail markers or interesting plants. I notice he's leading us on a path I haven't seen before, one without the usual blazes.
"Are we on a secret trail?" I ask, ducking under a low branch.
"Private trail," he corrects, but there's that ghost of a smile again. "One most guests don't know about."
"But you're showing me?"
He doesn't answer directly. "Watch your step here. The rocks can be slippery."
The trail narrows, winding between ancient trees whose branches create a green canopy overhead. Birds call to each other, and occasionally small creatures rustle in the undergrowth. Rascal, to my surprise, stays dutifully on the path, only occasionally straining toward particularly interesting scents.
"You've been training him," I realize, watching my usually chaotic dog navigate the trail with newfound purpose.
Rowan's ears redden slightly. "Basic commands. For safety."
"Of course. Safety." I hide my smile. "Not at all because you secretly adore my ridiculous dog."
Before he can defend himself, Rascal spots something and barks excitedly, pulling so hard on his leash that I stumble forward. Rowan's arm shoots out, steadying me against his side. For a moment, we're pressed together, his warmth seeping through my sweater.
