LOVE IN THE GREAT OUTDOORS
With two little girls and a demanding job, Charlotte Folsomâs plate is already full when she arrives in Sugar Falls. Hiking, fishing, rafting? Absolutely not her thing. But Chef Charlotte is on special assignment for her magazine, so she decides to make the best of it. Her river guide, Alex Russell, is rugged and hunky, and the camera loves him. For her, the jury is still out.
Alex has seen enough city sophisticates come to Idaho for his adventure vacations to know that Charlotte is not the woman for him. When a sudden storm leaves them stranded in the mountains, however, unexpected passion flares among the pines. The Mountain Man and the Magazine Mom? Unthinkable! Or just maybe inevitable...
âIt makes sense why you wouldnât want to get involved with the customers.â
âThat doesnât have anything to do with it. I just like to keep my distance in general.â Alex sure wasnât proving the truth of that statement, because as he said the words, he noticed that heâd somehow managed to scoot his sleeping bag closer to hers. âI like my life the way it is.â
âOf course you do,â she said, that sexy soft whisper back.
Another clap of thunder shuddered through the trees outside, and he found himself grasping the edge of her sleeping bag, tugging it toward him. He heard Charlotteâs indrawn breath. But she didnât pull away.
âYou live in your world and I live in mine,â he said, talking more to himself, wanting reassurance that despite their physical proximity, he still had some emotional boundaries left.
Their faces were inches apart. âYou said it yourself, Alex. What happens out here stays out here.â
But what exactly was happening? He could navigate the wild mountain terrain in the snow without a GPS, but heâd never trusted himself to read women very well unless they provided him with a clear course.
âAre you sure about this?â he asked, not wanting to question what exactly this was.
* * *
Sugar Falls, Idaho: Your destination for true love!
CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.
To my happy little camper.
Whether itâs collecting pine cones, helping Daddy set up the tent or roasting marshmallows over the fire (despite the fact that you only eat the chocolate out of your sâmores), your enthusiasm for the great outdoors is immeasurable and so much fun to witness. I canât wait for our next camping adventure. I love you, Peanut.
Chapter One
Alex Russell glanced over his shoulder at the silver four-door Jeep pulling up behind him, its color matching the clouds overhead, which in turn matched his mood. The decals plastered to the side of the vehicle were a brighter version of the ones stenciled on the raft he was stocking with dry boxes, paddles and waterproof bags.
His grandfather, who everyone in western Idahoâincluding Alexâreferred to as Commodore due to the manâs expertise in navigating the Sugar River, hopped out of the driverâs side while the female passenger remained inside talking on her cell phone. Alex rolled his eyes. Exactly the kind of city slicker heâd figured.
But when Alexâs father called him this morning, hacking up a lung and complaining about a sore throat, Alex had immediately offered to take over as the guide for todayâs whitewater excursion. While his dad could probably steer through these rapids blindfolded, let alone with a fever of 103, it wouldnât be good for business to get the paying customers sick. It was bad enough that they had to expose the public to Commodoreâs ever-present crotchetiness, but they really needed someone to run the shuttle between the put-in and pickup locations.
âI thought Dad said there were supposed to be five in the group today,â Alex said when his grandfather approached.
âSâposed to be.â Commodore had never been described as a people person and always kept a toothpick clamped tightly between his teeth, probably as an excuse to avoid talking. It gave his weathered face a permanent grimace, like Popeye smoking his pipe, and it gave Alex a permanent headache trying to communicate with the seventy-five-year-old man.
âSo, what happened to everyone else?â
âDonât know.â Commodore limped over to the raft, checked the carabineers and tested out the tautness on the slings harnessed near the stern. âSome of us mind our own business.â