“Traitor.” Noah checked his watch for the tenth time. “Are you done yet?”
“Almost.” I snapped a few more angles, trying to capture the ethereal pre-dawn light. “Just need to check the lighting one more …”
Noah started walking up the trail, Yeti trotting back over to walk beside him.
“Hey! Wait up!” I scrambled to stuff my phone in my pocket, nearly tripping over my trekking poles. “I was thinking I could shoot you giving some trail safety rules with that mountain over there in the backdrop.”
“Rule number one,” Noah called over his shoulder without turning around. “Keep up.”
The trail narrowed as we climbed further; the path turning from packed dirt to loose rock that shifted treacherously. I was thankful I’d taken Noah’s advice and changed my boots. The ones he gave me gripped the trail like they had little suction cups on the bottom.
The higher we went, the prettier the view. But I’d given up trying to film anything. Both hands were needed just to keep my balance and my dignity intact. I was grateful Noah had insisted on bringing the hiking poles. Without them, my knees would have disintegrated into bone powder.
“Watch your step here.” Noah pointed to a section where the path dropped off sharply on one side, exposing a view of treetops far below. “The rain washed out part of the trail last week.”
I eyed the steep slope beside us, my stomach lurching at the drop. “You’re joking, right?”
“Just stay close to the inside wall.” As if to show how simple it was to defy death, Yeti trotted past the drop-off like she was strolling through a dog park.
I took a tentative step forward, and a chunk of dirtcrumbled under my foot, disappearing over the edge. “Aaagh!” I froze, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Here.” Noah reached back, hand extended. “Take my hand.”
I hesitated for a split second before grabbing it. His palm was warm and calloused, fingers wrapping securely around mine. The simple touch sent tingles racing up my arm.
“I’ve got you,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”
We inched forward, my other hand trailing along the rock face for additional security. Noah’s grip remained steady, grounding me as we picked our way across the narrow section. Despite the chill mountain air, heat bloomed where our skin touched.
“Almost there,” Noah murmured. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, sending another wave of goosebumps dancing up my arms.
I was grateful he was focused on the trail ahead and couldn’t see my reaction. This was ridiculous. I was a grown woman; an accidental touch shouldn’t have affected me like that. But something about the quiet confidence in his movements, the gentle strength in his grip ...
“A few more steps.”
Noah pulled me to wider ground, but he didn’t immediately let go. For one suspended moment, we stood connected, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
Noah’s eyes were wolf-like. Not wolf-dog like, I mean full-on wolf. Like a predator, intense and penetrating.
“I’m not looking at you. I’m looking above you.” His piercing blue eyes angled over my head. “Turn around.” He pointed toward a tree branch.
“See it?” asked Noah, reverent like we were in church. “It’s a Northern Goshawk. They’re incredibly rare in this area.”
I squinted up at the branch, making out what looked like ... well, a bird. Brown. Feathery. Basically identical to every other bird I’d ever seen. By that point, my feet ached, my hair was plastered to my neck with sweat, and I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for any nature appreciation.
“Cute.” I pulled out my phone and snapped a few pictures, zooming in as close as I could. “I think I’ll call it Kevin.”
Noah’s expression shifted from delight to disbelief as I began typing into my phone. “You’re naming it?”
“Of course.”
Then, from disbelief to disgust.
“To be a social media sensation, it has to have a name. Have you ever seen all those Grumpy Cat videos?” Noah made a face. “That’s the one.” I typed into my phone some more. “Nobody cares about a random bird. Everybody loves Kevin.”
“It’s a protected species,” said Noah, jaw clenched. “But sure, let’s call it Kevin.”
