Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
And for the first time in years, I’m not sure I want to fight it.
Chapter Three
Juniper
The trail narrows, the underbrush thickening with every step. I’m no wilderness expert, but even I know I should have stayed on the marked path. Not that it matters now. I’ve only been on this mountain for a day and already I’ve found myself in trouble. I pause, glancing at the sun filtering weakly through the canopy above, and curse under my breath.
I’m lost.
"Great job, Juniper," I mutter to myself, adjusting the camera strap digging into my shoulder. My boots crunch against the uneven ground as I turn in a slow circle. Everything looks the same—green and endless, like the forest is swallowing me whole.
This is fine. Totally fine.
I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm. If I can just retrace my steps—
“What the hell, Juniper?”
Flint’s voice cuts through the quiet like a whip, sharp and frustrated. I whip around to find him standing a few feet away, his broad frame shadowed by the trees. His jaw is tight, his eyes blazing with something that looks a lot like rage.
“How did you find me?” I ask, my voice defensive. I’m not about to let him think I was out here helpless and desperate.
“I saw your car parked at the trailhead,” he smirks, stepping closer. “And then I found your tracks leading straight into the middle of nowhere. The woods aren’t safe for a city girl.”
“I was working,” I say, lifting my chin. “Documenting areas that need protection.”
“Alone?” His voice is a low growl now, and his eyes narrow. “In bear country?”
I flinch but refuse to back down. “I wasn’t exactly planning on encountering a bear, Flint.”
“Yeah, well, bears don’t schedule appointments,” he bites out, his hands settling on his hips. “And this?” He gestures to the dense forest around us. “This is how people die out here. You get lost, it gets dark, and then you’re bear food. Did you even bring bear spray?”
“I wasn’t lost!” The lie slips out before I can stop it, and Flint’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Really?” He steps closer, his presence looming, but it’s not just his size that throws me. It’s the intensity in his eyes, the way he looks like he’s barely holding himself together. “So you were just... wandering around for fun?”
I fold my arms, refusing to wilt under his gaze. “I had a plan.”
His laugh is sharp and humorless. “Your plan sucks, sugar.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but it’s not just anger. Flint has this way of making me feel... exposed. Like he can see through every façade I throw up, right to the raw, unpolished mess beneath.
“Well, thank you for the unsolicited critique,” I huff. “Next time, I’ll be sure to consult with the wilderness expert first.”
“If you know what’s best for you, you will.” His voice drops, rough and commanding, and I swear the air between us shifts.
I hate how my body responds to him, how the intensity in his eyes ignites something low in my stomach.
“Are you done lecturing me?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.
His eyes narrow, and for a second, I think he’s going to snap again. But instead, he steps closer, the heat of his presence wrapping around me.
“No, Juniper,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not done.”
I swallow hard, the pulse in my throat pounding as he closes the distance between us.
“You think you can just waltz out here, waving your camera around, and everything will magically work out?” His voice is softer now, but no less intense. “This isn’t some Hollywood set. Out here, there’s no script. No second chances.”
“I know that,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“Do you?” He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to figure me out. “Because you don’t act like it.”
I want to argue, to throw something back at him, but the weight of his gaze stops me.
“I... I didn’t mean to get lost,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
His expression softens just a fraction, and for a moment, I think I see something other than frustration in his eyes. Concern, maybe.
“You stick with me from now on,” he says, his tone firm. “You want to document the forest? Fine. But you do it my way. No more solo scouting trips.”
I bristle at his tone, even as part of me knows he’s right. “And if I don’t?”
His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “Then I guess I’ll just have to follow you around like a damn babysitter.”
The image makes me want to laugh, but I bite it back. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“Not particularly,” he says, his smirk fading. “But I’d rather deal with your attitude than find your body in a ditch.”
The bluntness of his words steals my breath, and for a moment, we just stand there, the forest around us eerily silent.