His Savage Longing (RUGGED PEAKS #4) by C.L. Cruz EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: C.L. Cruz
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.4 MB
- Price: Free
Aspen
The sleek sports car crunches over the gravel parking area, and I step out,
my designer heels instantly sinking into the loose rocks. I pause, taking
in the sprawling expanse of Camp Silverpine spread out before me like an
unkempt wilderness itself.
Ramshackle log cabins with peeling paint and sagging roofs poke out
between towering pines. Rusted swing sets and weather-worn canoes litter
what was once a lush central activity field, now overgrown with waist-high
weeds. The dock extending into the glassy lake is aged and splintered,
screaming for repair.
With a resigned sigh, I pull my sunglasses down and scan the neglected
property. “Well, Uncle Andrew, you really let the place go after I left, didn’t
you?”
Not that I’m surprised. After I was grown and gone, my uncle had
shuttered the camp season after season until it eventually closed for good.
But leaving me the keys to this dilapidated kingdom in his will? I shake
my head, bemused. Why the hell would a successful marketing consultant
like me want the hassle of an outdated summer camp to deal with?
I wander up the winding dirt road that carves through the heart of the
grounds. Each familiar sight I pass stirs a nostalgic pang—the cracked
amphitheater stage where I performed skits as a kid. The weathered totem
poles surrounding the dining hall pavilion. Even the pungent outhouse
stench wafting on the breeze.
My gaze drifts to the dense forest canopy where the highest ridgelines are
still visible, piercing the sky with their craggy silhouettes. I can practically
hear the distant gurgling of the wild river that snaked through the
backcountry, its roaring whitewater beckoning my adventurous teenage
soul. How many summers did I spend with—
The thought trails off, a sudden flicker of an old, familiar anger flaring
within me. I shake my head, dismissing the memory of tousled chestnut hair
and those penetrating eyes that once drew me in like a moth to a flame.
Not going there today, Aspen. Not when there’s so much messiness to
deal with here as it is.
I keep moving, stepping carefully in my heels. Each ramshackle cabin I
pass sparks another rush of memories—that time Billy Jennings got poison
ivy all over his ass from the outhouse. Or how Mandy Wilkins sobbed for
days after her first breakup. Or that one time when we snuck out after
curfew and streaked through the entire campsite, giggling like maniacs
while the night watchman chased us back to the cabins.
Good times.
My smile falters as I reach the end of the trail, the dense pines parting to
reveal a breathtaking panorama of Silverpine Lake glistening in the fading
twilight. The water’s glassy surface reflects the rugged peaks soaring above
the cotton candy clouds like sentinels, their snow-capped crowns blazing
orange and pink from the setting sun.
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