"Mom."
"...well, I couldn't say no." She steps into the shed, straightening my flannel collar the way she has since I was small. "Janet helped us through some rough times after your father passed. Those retreat bookings she sent our way kept the lodge going that first winter."
I close my eyes, already feeling my resolve crumbling. "The woman doesn't even have proper hiking boots."
"Then teach her what she needs." Mom's hand rests on my cheek, and I lean into it despite myself. "You used to love sharing the magic of these mountains, remember? Before..."
She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't have to. Before Dad died. Before I retreated into the quiet work of maintaining the trails. Before I decided it was easier to keep my distance from everyone except family.
"She thinks she's in a romance novel," I mutter, which makes Liam snort.
"I saw her notebook," he says. "Covered in woodland creature stickers. And that dog of hers tried to chase one of the garden rabbits this morning."
"Rascal," I say without thinking, then catch Mom's knowing look. "The dog," I clarify quickly. "Its name is Rascal."
"Mhmm." Mom examines a rack of hiking poles. "You know, Janet mentioned Daisy's been having trouble with confidence lately. Bad breakup. Ex told her writing children's books wasn't a 'real' career."
"That's not my problem."
"No," Mom agrees mildly. "But you've always been good at helping lost things find their way. Remember that baby deer?"
"I was twelve, Mom."
"And you sat with it for hours until its mother came back." She selects a hiking pole, tests its weight. "You've got a gentle heart, Rowan Callahan, no matter how much you try to hide it under all that flannel."
"She's going to get herself hurt out there," I protest, but it's weak and we all know it.
"Then keep her safe." Liam claps me on the shoulder. "Show her the right trails. Teach her what she needs to know." He pauses. "And maybe try using more than three words at a time?"
I glare at him. "I can be social."
"Sure you can, little brother." He grins. "That's why you're hiding in the maintenance shed at nine in the morning."
"I'm not hiding. I'm working."
"Of course you are." Mom holds out the hiking pole. "Janet says Daisy needs about two weeks of research. That's all we're asking. Show her the safe trails, answer her questions about the local wildlife, make sure she doesn't wander off a cliff while writing about talking squirrels or whatever it is she's working on."
"Two weeks?" I take the pole, already resigned to my fate. "That's fourteen days of keeping a city girl with no survival instincts alive in the wilderness."
"Look at it this way," Liam says, clearly enjoying this too much. "It'll give you plenty of chances to practice your people skills."
I send him a look that would wither most people, but he just laughs. Oldest brothers are immune to that sort of thing.
"She's having breakfast on the terrace," Mom says, patting my arm. "I told her you'd meet her there at ten to discuss a research schedule."
"You what?"
"And I made sure the kitchen packed extra muffins." She rises on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. "Your favorites. The blueberry ones."
"That's playing dirty, Mom."
"I prefer to think of it as using all available resources." She heads for the door, then pauses. "Oh, and Rowan? Try to smile occasionally. It won't kill you."
I watch them go, Mom's arm linked through Liam's, their heads bent together in conversation. Through the trees, I can make out the lodge's terrace, where a figure in another ridiculous sweater is sharing her slice of quiche with a certain sweater-wearing dog.
Two weeks.
I check my watch. Forty-five minutes until I have to attempt civil conversation with the walking disaster who thinks she's wandered into one of her romance novels.
