Struggling Dad Carried A Woman With A Twisted Ankle, Not Realizing She Was A CEO Falling For Him
The Mountain Encounter
Zaden Nalan didn’t expect to carry a stranger in his arms down a muddy hiking trail while his six-year-old son watched wide-eyed.
But here he was, soaked in sweat, his arms wrapped around a woman who looked like she belonged in a Vogue magazine rather than the middle of nowhere.
“I told you I could make it,” the woman grumbled, her ankle visibly swollen, her pride more bruised than her leg.
Zaden glanced down at her, adjusting his grip.
“Yes, and I told you I wasn’t going to leave you to crawl the last mile.”
She huffed and crossed her arms as best she could while being carried bridal style.
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you,” he shot back, biting back a grin.
“Lucky for you, I’ve had practice carrying bags of cement and a kid who thinks he’s Spider-Man.”
“Daddy, is she okay?” little Oliver asked, trotting beside him with his Spider-Man backpack bouncing at his sides.
“She’ll be fine, buddy,” Zaden said, nodding toward the parking lot finally visible through the trees.
“We’re almost there.”
The woman, Celia Monroe, though he didn’t know that yet, winced as another jolt of pain hit her ankle.
She twisted it pretty bad coming down the trail, and Zaden happened to be the only one nearby when she cried out.
He hadn’t hesitated, just scooped her up and told Oliver to grab her bag.
They reached the lot, and Zaden gently set her down on the bench near the trailhead.
She looked at him, her eyes a sharp, captivating hazel that made him pause mid-motion.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer now.
“Less fight, more vulnerability. You didn’t have to do that.”
Zaden crouched in front of her, checking the ankle.
“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” he murmured.
“It’s going to swell like crazy, though. You need ice.”
“I’ll call a car,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“No signal up here,” he replied, nodding at his truck parked a few feet away.
“I’ll take you down to town. There’s a clinic near the diner.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not,” he cut her off.
“Besides, Ollie’s hungry. We were headed there anyway, right buddy?”
“Do they have pancakes?” Oliver asked, hopeful.
“The best,” Zaden chuckled.
“Come on.”
Celia hesitated, but the pain made the decision for her.
She let him help her up again, biting back a wince as he guided her to the passenger seat of his beat-up truck.
Inside, it smelled faintly of sawdust and something lemony.
“You a carpenter or something?” she asked as he started the engine.
“Contractor, mostly renovations. Small stuff these days,” he said, his tone casual but tired.
“Work’s been slow.”
Oliver piped up from the back.
“Daddy builds houses, and he makes the best grilled cheese in the world.”
Zaden glanced at Celia.
“My toughest client,” he joked, nodding at his son in the mirror.
She smiled genuinely this time.
It softened the sharpness in her features.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Yeah. Hey, well, it’s just me and him,” Zaden said.
“His mom left a few years ago. Guess solo parenting wasn’t her thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Celia said quietly.
He shrugged.
“We’re doing all right. Some days are harder than others.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was thick with something unspoken, something that made Celia look at him again—really look.
He wasn’t polished.
His shirt was two buttons undone, his hands calloused, and his jaw shadowed with stubble.
But there was something in the way he focused completely on his son, and how he didn’t once try to impress her.
He was just being himself.
When they pulled into the small-town diner, Zaden parked and moved quickly to her side, offering his arm to help her inside.
Oliver skipped ahead, already announcing, “Three pancakes, please.”
“Guess I’ve been outvoted,” Celia muttered.
Zaden laughed as he helped her into a booth.
“You don’t seem like the pancake type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said with playful fire.
“You’re wearing heels in the woods,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
She looked down at her expensive, now ruined Louboutins.
“Inside, I needed air. I’ve had a day.”
“Bad day, huh?”
“Week,” she corrected, glancing out the window.
“I run a company. Sometimes it runs me.”
Zaden blinked.
“You’re a CEO?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
“Let’s just say I make a lot of decisions.”
He didn’t press.
Instead, he flagged down the waitress and ordered for all three of them.
Celia watched him as he talked to the server: kind, respectful, and confident.
Nothing flashy, but solid and reliable.
Something about the way Oliver clung to him, completely trusting, made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
Once the food arrived, she said, “You always carry women out of the woods, or am I special?”
He looked at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Only the ones who twist their ankles and insult my truck.”
She laughed, actually laughed, and even Oliver joined in.
By the end of breakfast, Zaden had offered to drive her home.
She hesitated.
“I live in the city.”
“That’s two hours away,” he said, surprised.
“What were you doing out here?”
“Hiking off stress,” she said.
“Didn’t expect to blow out my ankle.”
“I’ll take you,” he said without a second thought.
“Oliver can nap in the back. I’ve got nowhere else to be today.”
She studied him like she couldn’t quite figure him out.
“You don’t even know me.”
Zaden stood, tossing some bills onto the table.
“I don’t leave people stranded, even ones wearing thousand-dollar shoes.”
He didn’t notice the way her eyes widened slightly.
How did he know the price?
By the time he dropped her off in front of her glass high-rise downtown, reality hit harder than she expected.
“Thanks,” she said again, this time quieter.
He nodded.
“Take care of that ankle. And maybe next time, sneakers.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but he was already helping Oliver into the truck again.
As he pulled away, she stood there on the sidewalk, watching until his taillights disappeared.
Celia Monroe had just been carried down a mountain by a man who had no idea she was CEO of one of the biggest luxury brands in the country.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t want him to find out.
Not yet.
Not until she saw him again, which she realized with a jolt she very much wanted to.
