Wild Surrender

“Oh my god, what is that?” I huffed, waving my hands frantically in front of my face. “I didn’t even know your species existed. Please get out of my face,” I pleaded.

It wasn’t like we didn't have our own share of creepy-crawly things in LA, but I also lived in a high-rise, so pest control was not part of my repertoire. I was not cut out for the woods in the mountains of Colorado.

However, I now appeared to be accomplishing my mission of taking my mind off the decision I was wrestling with.

And I was so damn exhausted from wrestling with it. I was pretty sure my friends were sick of hearing about it. Hell, I sounded like a broken record to my own ears, but the anxiety about making a wrong decision had always plagued me. Charlie had even helpfully noted that it sounded like a “shit or get off the pot” moment.

I wished I could find some comfort in his words. Like it’s an easy yes or no, but that’s not how my brain works.

There was another crawling sensation on my arm, and I was so busy smacking at it that I didn’t see the low branch of an approaching tree until it smacked me in the face. “Son of a bitch, motherfucking piece of shit!” I was about to let that tree know what I thought about it, too, when I heard a deep, amused chuckle from behind me. “Ma’am? Do you need some help?”

I didn’t appreciate the amusement in his question. The last thing I needed was some patronizing man infringing on my zen alone time. “Of course not,” I huffed out. “What could I possibly need help with?” I asked, still finding my bearings and turning to face the source of the voice.

He was tall and brawny, with a thick beard and clad in a park ranger’s uniform. “Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, that tree seemed to be getting the best of you. I thought you were a damsel in distress in need of rescuing,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Fuck. The sarcastic park ranger has a panty-dropping voice.

The last thing I needed was rescuing, least of all from this tree … but I was starting to worry that I’d need rescuing from the sexy mountain man who seemed oddly familiar.

I ceased rubbing my arms and rested them across my chest as he moved closer, eyeing me speculatively.

“I can assure you, Ranger, I don’t require rescuing from anyone…” I stopped short as I maneuvered to find my footing among the large roots of the tree I’d been standing under to take some refuge from the bugs. As I emerged from the branches to face the ranger and get a better look, he raised a knowing eyebrow and asked, “Why do I get the feeling you say that a lot?”

His assumption annoyed me but was not as aggravating as not being able to place him. “And why do I get the feeling you’re an insufferable bore every time someone requires your assistance?”

He started to answer as I blurted out, “I’m sorry, but have we met before? You look very familiar.”

He sputtered, clearly caught off guard, and I did my best to ignore the thread of satisfaction that streaked through me. He was really handsome, with his neatly trimmed beard, close-cropped medium-brown hair that disappeared into his official park ranger cap, and startling deep-green eyes.

“Uh, no. I have no idea where I would have seen you before,” he stuttered, clearing his throat and launching into a well-practiced spiel about how to remain safe on the trail. “You should really bring a friend with you or hire a guide in case you get lost,” he lectured. “This isn’t the best place for a novice to be hiking. Not to mention, it would take a ranger longer to get to you if something were to happen, putting an unnecessary strain on resources. There’s a reason we made a dedicated trail for hikers of every skill level, and…”

It was like someone had flipped on the Boy Scout switch, but as my eyes wandered over his face again, I realized why he seemed so intent on looking official. I gasped. “I remember now! You’re that guy!”

I couldn’t help but note how his cheeks reddened a touch beneath his beard even as he said, “Ma’am?”

It was all coming back to me. He was the sexy lumberjack from the bar that night.

The ranger cleared his throat nervously. “Well, yes, I am indeed a guy. Maybe that branch hit you in the head a little harder than I thought,” he reasoned, one thick eyebrow raising in question.

I would not be deterred. “Several months ago, I was having drinks with friends at the Silver Star Tavern. You were at the bar.”

Something flickered in the ranger’s eyes, and I knew I had the right guy. There was no mistaking him or those eyes.

He averted his gaze. “Who the hell remembers what they were doing several months ago? It’s possible, I …”

He was nervous. I could tell by the way his eyes were darting around, plus he’d taken an unnecessary step back. I was most definitely making him nervous, and the thought that I could have that effect on this big, burly man was thrilling. “Maybe most people wouldn’t remember, but you do … You’re not a very good liar, are you, Ranger?” I’m not sure why I was baiting him, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

He met my eyes then, and I could see the exasperation flickering there. “Are you always this direct with everyone you meet?”

“Of course, I detest wasting time,” I answered simply.

I saw the corner of his mouth quirking upward, but he caught himself and pulled his face back into what I suspected to be a perma-scowl. “Look, ma’am. Maybe I was there, but I’m not sure why it matters—”

“You were staring at me. In fact, you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

He swallowed audibly, red blooming in his cheeks, but his response came out low and rough. “So what if I was?”

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