Page 14 of Rowan: His Exception

"We'll rest here," he says. "Take five minutes, hydrate, and we keep moving."

I find a flat rock and sit before my legs give out. The view is actually beautiful, which annoys me. Mountains layered blue-gray in the distance, pine trees thick enough to look like a carpet. Clean air that tastes different from city air. I drink from my water bottle and try not to watch Rowan.

But he's watching me.

I see it in my peripheral vision, the way he doesn't turn his head, but his attention shifts. I should look away. I should definitely not make eye contact.

I can’t help myself. I do it anyway.

He doesn't smile, doesn't nod. Holding my gaze for three seconds, four, five, long enough that I feel heat crawl up my neck. Then he turns away and says something to the woman next to him, something about pacing herself, and the moment breaks.

But I felt it. That thing between us, live and electric, the same thing that I felt before we headed out when he crowded my space and I didn't back down.

This is bad. This is very bad. I'm here to find myself, not lose myself in some mountain man with authority issues and shoulders that fill out a shirt like a threat.

"Claire."

I look up. Rowan is standing over me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back. The sun is behind him, turning him into a silhouette. I can't read his expression.

"Yeah."

"You're keeping up." It’s not praise, but an observation. "Most people struggle the first hour."

"I don't like being left dead."

His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. "That was for the group. If it makes you feel any better, I'd probably drag you back to the parking lot and dump you there."

"Charming."

He crouches down, bringing us to eye level, and suddenly I can see everything. The dark flecks in his blue, the scar that cuts through his left eyebrow. Let’s just say, I’m close enough to smell him, sweat, pine, something sharp and clean.

"You're pushing too hard," he says, keeping his voice low. "I can see it in your breathing. Slow down, or you'll burn out before lunch."

"Are you worried about me?"

"Worried about my reputation. I can’t have a student passing out on the trail, it’s bad for business."

"Liar."

The word comes out before I can stop it. His eyes narrow, and I feel that twist in my stomach again, the dangerous pull of wanting to see how far I can push him.

"Careful," he says, soft enough that only I can hear it.

"Of what?"

"Thinking you know what I am."

He stands up, smooth and controlled, and walks away before I can answer. I sit there with my heart hammering against my ribs and tell myself it's the altitude, the exertion, anything but him.

“Alright. Breaks over. Let’s get back to it.”

The group starts moving again. While I force myself to stand, to follow, to keep my eyes on the trail and not on the man who just warned me to stay away from him, acting as if he’s doing both of us a favor.

Already knowing how this ends.

Chapter Six

ROWAN