"Research, remember? This is perfect material. The grumpy forest guardian helping the lost traveler find her way..."
"I'm not—" He cuts himself off, running a hand through his already disheveled dark hair. "You need proper gear. And a real trail map. And maybe a basic understanding of wilderness survival that doesn't come from romance novels."
"Are you offering to teach me?" The words slip out before I can stop them, and I swear I see a flush creep up his neck.
"No," he says firmly, but there's something in his voice that makes me think he's trying to convince himself as much as me. "I'm telling you to stick to the marked trails. Near the lodge. With other people. There are group hikes."
We emerge from the trees near my cabin, and I'm almost disappointed our adventure is ending. "But then how would I get my research done? My editor's expecting a story about forest friends and woodland magic."
"Find a different story." He whistles sharply, and Rascal bounds over like he's been doing it his whole life. Traitor.
"Can't. The woods are part of me now." I spread my arms wide, spinning in a little circle. "I've been transformed by my near-death experience?—"
"You were half a mile from the lodge."
"—and now I must commune with nature to complete my artistic vision."
He hands me Rascal's leash, and I try not to notice how his calloused fingers brush against mine. "Please don't commune with nature without a guide."
"That sounds like an offer to me, Mr. Mysterious Mountain Man."
"It's a warning." But there's that ghost of a smile again, gone so quick I almost miss it. "And it's Rowan."
"Well, Rowan," I hug my notebook to my chest, feeling oddly bold, "thanks for the rescue. Even if you're not the reclusive hero of a romance novel."
He shakes his head, already turning to leave. "Stay on the marked trails, Daisy."
I watch him disappear back into the trees, his flannel shirt fading into the shadows of the forest. Rascal whines at his departure, and I scratch behind his ears consolingly.
"I know, buddy. But look on the bright side." I open my notebook, already filling with ideas. "I think we just found our story's grumpy forest guardian."
Chapter Two
Rowan
"Absolutely not."
I cross my arms, leaning against the maintenance shed where I was peacefully organizing equipment before Liam tracked me down. The morning sun filters through the pines, promising another clear day perfect for working on the back trails. Perfect for avoiding chatty guests with their ridiculous dogs and even more ridiculous story ideas.
"Come on, Row." Liam gives me his best older-brother look, the one he perfected after Dad died. "It's a simple request."
"Then you do it." I grab my work gloves, fully intending to escape to the far side of the property. "You're the one who's good with guests."
"I'm needed at the lodge. Besides," he adds with infuriating logic, "you're the one who knows these trails better than anyone. Even Connor."
"That's because I maintain them. Alone. The way I like it."
"Janet McKenzie specifically asked for our help." Mom's voice makes me freeze halfway through gathering my tools. She appears in the doorway of the shed, morning light catching the silver in her hair. "You remember Janet?"
Of course I remember Janet. She used to slip me extra cookies in the lodge's restaurant when I was hiding from guests as a kid, letting me read in the quiet corner booth until I was ready to face people again.
"The editor," I say, already knowing I'm fighting a losing battle.
"Daisy's editor," Mom confirms, her eyes twinkling in a way that makes me immediately suspicious. "She's been coming here for twenty years, Rowan. When she mentioned her newest author was struggling with inspiration..."
"Mom."
"...and needed someone who really knows these mountains..."
