“Like what?” Nash asks.
“I don’t know. Bear attacks? Falling off a cliff? Hypothermia? Whatever disasters May’s been warning me about since I arrived.”
Finn and Nash share a brief, knowing look.
“The Painted Peaks aren’t Disneyland,” Finn says. “But they’re not a death trap either. Follow instructions, stay on the trails, and you’llbe fine.”
“That’s not reassuring,” I say.
“It’s not meant to be,” Finn says. “It’s realistic. The wilderness deserves respect, not fear.”
Something in his tone quiets my comeback. Instead, I nod. “Fair enough.”
Surprise flickers across Finn’s face, quickly replaced by what might be approval.
May returns with a paper bag that smells of cinnamon and hands it to Finn. “Muffins for the road. And don’t you dare try to pay me, Finnegan Hollister.”
“Thanks, May.”
“You boys go load up that gear,” she instructs. “I need another minute with Lena.”
Nash slides from the booth, sending me a sympathetic expression. “May’s ‘minutes’ are legendary. Good luck, Hollywood.”
As the brothers head outside, May reclaims the seat across from me. Her expression softens as she takes in my face. “City folk come here for the scenery,” she says, wiping a spot on the table with her thumb. “But Alaska has a way of changing people. Makes them perceive things differently.”
“I’m only here for a few weeks,” I remind her.
May’s lips curve. “A lot can happen in a short time, especially with Finn as your guide.” She pats my hand. “He seems all rough edges, but there’s no one better to have on your side in those mountains.”
“We’re not exactly getting along,” I admit.
“The best partnerships rarely start that way.” She rises from the booth. “The boys are waiting. I’ll have fresh pie when you get back—you can tell me how it all went.”
I watch her walk away, realizing what she’s implying. As if I would ever fall for someone like Finn Hollister. The man is infuriating, judgmental, and lives in the absolute middle of nowhere by choice. The last thing I need is another stubbornman who thinks he knows what’s best for me. I’ve had enough of those in Hollywood to last a lifetime.
Outside, Finn and Nash are loading equipment from Nash’s ATV trailer onto the one behind the Polaris. Both men move with the ease of those accustomed to physical labor.
“Ready to head back?” Finn calls. “We need to finish packing and check your new gear.”
I nod, climbing onto the Polaris.
Before starting the engine, Finn turns to me. “This isn’t what I signed up for,” I say, my frustration bubbling over. “I thought I agreed to stay at a lodge with running water and electricity, not camp in a bear-infested wilderness for three weeks.”
Finn’s jaw tightens, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “You think I’m thrilled about playing tour guide to a film crew? This wasn’t in my plans either.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Because I need the money. A bad storm nearly bankrupted the lodge.” There’s a reluctance in his admission that tells me it costs him something to share.
I sink deeper into my seat. “My agent says this is my last chance to salvage my career.”
“We’re both trapped,” Finn says. “Neither of us want this, but we both need something from it.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.” He slows the vehicle as we approach a rough patch of road. “Listen, I don’t know what happened in Hollywood, and I don’t care. But out here? The mountains don’t care about your IMDB page, and the bears don’t care about designer labels.”
“Is this supposed to be a pep talk? Because it’s terrible.”
