Page 32 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

"It's time for you to simply enjoy your life," Griffin says, and his voice is quieter now, almost gentle. "No one will scare you here."

I look at him, at this massive, scarred man who broke into my cabin this morning to make sure I hadn't frozen to death. Who taught me to split wood and build fires. Who just told me I need to get out of my own head and then brought me to the most peaceful place I've ever seen.

"Thank you," I say.

"I told you to stop thanking me."

"And I told you to stop doing things that make me want to thank you."

He looks at me for a long moment and then huffs out something that might be a laugh. "You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"An idiot," he repeats, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "Now stop sitting there looking at it like it's a postcard and get in."

I blink up at him. "Get in? Get in the water?"

"That's generally what you do at a waterfall."

"I thought we were just going to sit here. Listen to it. Be peaceful."

"You can listen to it from inside."

I stare at the pool. The water is clear enough that I can see the rocky bottom, and even from here I can tell it's going to be absolutely freezing. "Griffin, it's October. That water is probably forty degrees."

"Probably closer to fifty. Don't be dramatic."

"I don't have a bathing suit."

"Neither do I."

Before I can process what that means, he's pulling his flannel off, then his thermal shirt, dropping both onto the rock beside him. And there he is again… All that muscle, scarred skin and raw strength that should probably intimidate me but somehow just makes my mouth go dry.

"You're insane," I say, but I can't look away.

"Probably." He toes off his boots, then his socks. "You coming or not?"

"I'm not… Griffin, that water is freezing."

"That's the point."

He doesn't give me time to argue further. He just turns and runs toward the water. This massive, scarred mountain man running like a kid toward a swimming hole, and dives in with a splash that sends water spraying up into the sunlight.

He surfaces a second later with a sharp exhale that's half gasp, half laugh, water streaming down his face and shoulders. His hair is plastered to his head, and he's grinning. Actually grinning, like this is the best thing he's done all week.

"Holy shit," he says, shaking water out of his eyes. "That's cold."

"I told you!"

"Get in here, Hannah."

"Absolutely not."

"You said you'd try."

"I said I'd try to get out of my head. I didn't say anything about hypothermia."

He swims closer to where I'm sitting, and I can see goosebumps rising on his arms despite the grin still on his face. "You're thinking about the water temperature. You're thinking about whether you have the right clothes. You're thinking about a thousand reasons not to do this."