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I glance deliberately at the tracks behind her before meeting her eyes again. “I think you’re alone on a mountain you don’t understand.”

Her expression hardens immediately. “I can handle myself.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t notice someone tracking you.”

Silence.

Her shoulders tighten just slightly, but she recovers fast. “What are you talking about?”

I move past her before she can stop me, crouching near the disturbed earth behind her trail.

“Size eleven boot,” I say. “Heavy stride. Male. Following you for at least half a mile.”

She steps closer immediately. Too close.

Close enough that I catch the faint scent of her shampoo beneath the cold mountain air.

Fuck.

“You’re serious,” she says quietly.

“Yeah.”

Her gaze flicks toward the trees now, sharper than before.

Good.

Fear keeps people alive.

Usually.

“You know whose tracks those are?”

“No.”

“Helpful.”

“You’d already be dead if they wanted you hurt.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “Wow. You really know how to comfort a woman.”

“I’m not trying to comfort you.”

Something flashes across her face then. Irritation mixed with something more aware.

More interested.

“You always this charming?” she asks.

“Only when people ignore warning signs.”

She folds her arms. “You don’t know me well enough to lecture me.”

“Don’t need to.”