I feel my own cheeks burn with embarrassment. Even if he didn’tintendto look, he must have seensomething.
Wait a second…“What about underwear?” My voice is shriller than I intended.
His cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. “I didn’t have any women’s underwear on hand…”
Oh. My. God.“I’m just wearing a shirt, then?”
He shrugs. “On you, it’s more like a dress.”
I’m going to die. Right here, right now. Of complete and utter embarrassment.
“Um, anyway…,” he continues, “I’m a certified EMT, and I can monitor you here to make sure you don’t have a concussion. The nearest hospital is over an hour away, and it takes forever to be seen in the ER, but I can take you there if you’d prefer.”
I shake my head. “I may as well stay here, I guess.”
I glance around the small space. It’s sparse but cared for in a way that speaks of someone who takes pride in his space. The sofa has seen better days but it is comfortable. A patched leather recliner is positioned to catch the afternoon light. There’s a woodstove in the corner with a neat stack of split logs beside it that won’t be needed for a few months. And the walls are dotted with pieces of driftwood, rusted lures displayed in shadowboxes, and several mounted fish, each one staring down with glassy eyes.
It's surprisingly charming.
“I like your home,” I say honestly.
Boone shrugs, a gesture that somehow conveys volumes. "It's quiet."
“That’s why I came to the lake, too. I needed a break from the hustle and bustle of Corporate America. I was hoping for solitude and relaxation.” I laugh bitterly. “So much for that, huh?”
Boone sits in the recliner. “Was this your first time paddleboarding?”
I chuckle. “First and last. I didn’t realize it was such a risky activity. I could have drowned.”
He doesn't correct me. Doesn't sugarcoat it or try to make me feel better about my spectacular failure at relaxation. “But you didn’t.”
Something in my chest tightens—not fear, exactly, but a recognition of how close I came to death today.
Boone leans forward in his chair. The movement pulls his shirt tight across muscles that suggest he does more than just fish in his spare time. “You’re safe now.”
I meet his eyes—gray-blue like the lake in shadow—and feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “You’re a hero.”
He stands, looking uncomfortable again. “Nah. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
Chapter 4
Boone
Itrynottostare at her, but every time I try to look away, my eyes involuntarily flick back in her direction. I’ve never brought a woman to my lake house, but here she is, curled up on my couch in one of my old flannel shirts with her damp hair clinging to her neck in dark waves.
And it’s stirring feelings in me that I’m not prepared for.
I moved here to bealone, dammit. I’m happy with my life. Okay, maybe nothappy, but comfortable. I’ve settled into a routine of loneliness, and it suits me. I don’t need a leggy brunette making me want things that I can’t have.
But what if Icanhave it? What if I can haveher?What if the mountain sent her just for me?
I shove the thoughts out of my mind. Oldtimers around here love to talk aboutThe Mountain Code.Supposedly, men have been coming to this mountain seeking solitude for decades—maybe even centuries. And they stay alone… until the mountain sends them a woman.
It’s total nonsense.
Or is it?
Two of my buddies, Colt and Sawyer, both swear The Mountain Code is real. They were both hermits like me, and each met their wives in an unexpected way on the mountain.
