Exposed : My Mountain Man Protector(21)

“What?” I asked.



“Nothing,” he said. “Just never would’ve pegged you for a music lover.”



“Bet you wouldn’t have pegged me for a nature lover either,” I shot back.



He shook his head. “I…can be quick to judge sometimes. I think I misjudged you, Claire. I’m sorry.”



“It’s okay,” I said. I kept my gaze on my hands, avoiding the intentness of his gaze.



“Well,” Blake said, rising, “we should probably get back to timber gathering.”



And so we did, our trips going farther into the trees each time, our conversations growing more excited all the while. Even though we were just collecting timber, the list of subjects to talk about only grew.



Finally, when there was a pyramid of sticks almost up to my waist by the fire pit, we stopped.



Blake surveyed the result of our efforts with a chuckle.



“Think we may have gone a bit overboard. Looks like we have enough sticks for the next three months or so.”



I laughed myself. “Three more months here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”



As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze.



Blake only smiled slightly and headed inside, saying over his shoulder, “The sun sets soon. I think I know a place we can get a good view. I’ll bring food.”



I paused at the doorway, unsure if I should follow him. Soon enough he was back again, his arms full of bread.



“Oooh, bread, my favorite,” I joked.



His face darkened, and his voice came out robotic and cold. “I just thought the rabbit could wait.”



“I was only joking,” I said, but Blake was already striding ahead into the trees.



I followed him. We were probably headed to the clearing, but I wasn’t about to ask for certain. Clearly something had set Blake off.



It was not long before we got there, to a patch of grass overlooking the mountain. As we sat down, it was getting dark already, although not dark enough to obscure the irritation still on Blake’s face.



He handed me a piece of bread. Catching my eye, he said, “I’m sorry. Something you said—it just reminded me of someone. Anya.”



“Okay,” I said.



We ate our bread in silence, at first in awkwardness but at last in awe. The sun had begun its final descent, casting an orange halo over the pines, outlining the mountainside with fire. The air was clear and cool, and the clearing was silent; all the animals were watching too. Even the trees stood still in a motionless respect for the stunning sight.



It was only when the last ray of sun was gone, when all had settled into darkness, that Blake spoke.



“I met Anya when I lived with Grandad. She was beautiful, funny, remarkable—everything I could have ever wanted, except for her some of her values. She was overly concerned with appearances, with keeping up with trends, with the ‘look’ of things. For a while I played along, ignored the irritated voice in my head, stifled what I really wanted. I got a real job, went along with her to her friends’ over-the-top dinner parties, even looked into going back to school. But it wasn’t enough.”



I said nothing in the pause, because the pause was for him, not me. The night was still quiet, listening to us now.



“She left me,” he said. “She left me because I had changed. I was lethargic, gloomy, ‘not myself,’ she said. She didn’t seem to realize that it was sacrificing everything for her that had made me that way. She left right around when Grandad died. Everything fell apart at once: I lost my job, my friends disappeared, my parents descended upon me. So I left. Stuck around just long enough for Grandad’s funeral and then left. Ran away from it all. Came here.”



Now the pause was an ending, a space where I was expected to respond.



“And?” I asked.



“And I’ve never been happier. I hunt, I cook, I read. I do odd jobs for campers and people in the area, just enough to get by. It’s not much, but it’s enough.”



I nodded. “I can see why. This place is beautiful.”



Blake’s arm was grazing mine oh so slightly, but his gaze was still straight ahead, on the dark line of the horizon. He probably didn’t even notice.



“So if I’m short with you sometimes, it’s because of that. Because in some way, though I’m not sure how, you remind me of her.”



“I understand,” I said.



He flopped onto his back. “Want to try spotting Coma Berenices again?”



I fell onto my back beside him. “Okay.”



“Okay,” he said. Then, turning to me, a smile playing on his face, he said, “You first.”