by Norah Wilson
Guess he’d get to see her sooner rather than later. “Here,” she managed. “I’m okay.”
“Stay right where you are,” he commanded. Then, obviously thinking better of tossing orders around again, he added a hasty, “Please.” With that, he went thrashing through the trees, presumably to make his way down in a safer fashion than she’d used.
Stay right where she was? It wasn’t like she had a lot of choice. She needed to catch her breath.
She looked up. How far had she fallen? Twelve feet? Twenty feet? It was hard to judge from here. It had seemed like it was happening in slow motion. But at the same time, it was so quick, she’d barely been able to react.
Initially, when the earth gave way, she thought she was just in for a slide. A heart-pounding, terrifying slide, but one she could ride by keeping her feet underneath her. But an outcropped root or branch or something had caught her on the way down, sort of flipping her into more of a tumble. She looked up the sharp slope to the wall of trees above.
Not her best performance.
Exit stage down.
She’d landed mostly on her backpack, and a quick survey of the immediate terrain told her it was good that she had. She felt out around her—soft moss. But right below that was hard rock. At some point on the way down, she’d wrapped her arms around her head protectively. Mr. Montague’s hit the deck training from grade nine gym class must have kicked in. That or instinct. Either way, the scrapes on her hands were better than the head-cracking alternative.
At least she’d turned around in time to prevent going over backwards. The thought made her shudder.
She hadn’t really been afraid before, not even when she knew she was lost. Not really. She had food and water and knew how to light a fire. She was resourceful. But if she’d needed a reminder just how dangerous Harkness Mountain was, that fall had brought it home.
I could have told you that.
Oh, great, there it was again. This was so not the time to be channeling Lacey. She could hear Titus getting closer.
“Not now,” she whispered.
She sat up slowly, and cringed about halfway up as pain shot through her right side. Crap.
Thanks to an awkward collision on the volleyball court in middle school, she’d broken a rib before. Had she done it again?
She probed the area through her jacket, deciding it didn’t feel nearly as bad as that other time. She took an experimental deep breath. Oh, yeah, that hurt, but not to the point she couldn’t do it. Bruised ribs, maybe, but hopefully not fractured. She took another deep breath and sat up fully.
Well, that wasn’t too bad. The world wasn’t spinning or anything.
She pulled off her insulated leather gloves and shoved them into her pockets. Then she lifted her jacket and layers of clothing to examine her side, the one that had made contact with that tree limb on the way down. It was already starting to turn color. She was going to have one evil-looking bruise. Or, oh, what if there was some kind of internal injury?
She pulled her shirt and jacket down just in time. Titus burst out of the trees on her right. His eyes were wild as they met hers. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
He strode toward her purposefully. Though she was determined not to let the pain show, she wasn’t above extending her hand for him to help her up. But he ignored the hand. Instead, he knelt beside her and laid her back down.
“What are you thinking, sitting up? You could have a spinal injury!”
She blinked up at him. “I don’t have a spinal injury. I got up by myself, didn’t I?”
“You could have an incomplete injury.”
“Well, I don’t. I can wiggle everything. See?” She wiggled her bared fingers and flexed and pointed her toes.
“Tell me your name?”
“My what?”
“Name, date of birth. Do you know what day it is?” He held up a finger expectantly and she followed it with her gaze.
Okay, he was worried about a head injury. Made sense. “Ocean Siliker,” she answered. “My birthday is March 15. Today is the Friday of the Thanksgiving weekend. When I was younger I had a goldfish named Waldo and a black lab named Goldie. Anything else?”
“Honey, we’re just getting started.” He shrugged off his rucksack and put it down beside her.
He used both hands to feel her head, assuring himself there were no lacerations or big goose eggs. Then he lifted her wrist and looked at his watch. Taking her pulse, presumably.
Damn, he was kind of sexy with that intent focus of his. No sooner had that thought formed than her mind produced a picture of the two of them in more…um, intimate circumstances. Titus with that awesome body—when had he gotten so freaking ripped?—moving over her with that same rapt attention.
He released her wrist. “Pulse seems kind of fast.”
“Hello? I just slid down an embankment.”
“Cliff,” he said, looking up at the drop. “You picked a good place to go over, I must say. It’s a twenty-five-foot drop not a hundred yards to your left.”
She gulped.
He unzipped the rucksack, fished out a blood pressure cuff, wrestled her arm out of her coat and took her BP. Afterward, he removed the cuff wordlessly and started running his hands over her. His hands were completely clinical, in a way that should not—oh, but did!—send a thrill arrowing through her.
She wet suddenly dry lips. “How’s my blood pressure?”
“Fine. How did you land?”
“See that branch up there?”
He looked up again. “It broke your fall?”
“I guess it did, but it sort of flipped me, too. I came to rest on my back, with my pack absorbing most of the impact. I think I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me.”
His hands were on her ribs now and she winced.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Some bruising. I’ve had cracked ribs before. This isn’t it.”
“You don’t need cracked ribs to have a pneumothorax. Or a hemothorax.”
She lay quietly while he examined her with a stethoscope. Then he started tapping on her chest wall through her shirt.
“Is this some kind of non-verbal knock-knock joke? Because I’m at a loss as to how to say, ‘Who’s there?’”
“Quiet. I’m percussing you.”
Well, okay then.
He sat back. “Seems the same on both sides.”
“So either I’m fine or I’m doubly screwed?” She started to sit up and he pushed her back again.
“Hold your horses, missy. Just because you seem to have dodged spinal, head, and thoracic disaster doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t have other internal injuries.”
She met his fierce gaze. “Like what?”
“I don’t know—like bladder hematoma or renal contusion.”
“If my bladder had exploded or my kidneys got scrambled, I think I’d be feeling it.”
He seemed to relax an infinitesimal amount.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” His eyes searched hers, seeking a straight answer.
She gave him one. “I’m fine. Embarrassed, and yes, I’ll have a sore butt in the morning, but other than that, I’m just peachy.”
The look of relief on his face was short-lived. He dropped her hands, stepped back. “You realize how lucky you are?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I’m serious.” He frowned down at her. “The mountain is dangerous. You could have been killed.”
“I know.” She sat up, and this time he didn’t interfere. But obviously he wasn’t done lecturing.
“What if you’d broken a leg? An ankle? Punctured a lung? What if you’d taken off on a slightly different tangent—”
He was right and she knew it. But how many times did he need to rub her face in it? She got to her feet, biting down on a wince of pain. “Okay, I know I was careless. And the mic drop thing…that was maybe a little childish.”
“Ya think?”
Her lips thinned. “But what ab
out you? I didn’t ask for help, but you turn up and just assume I’m going to go with you. No discussion, no debate. Hell, you pretty much threatened to toss me over your shoulder like some sort of…caveman and haul me down the mountain.”
“Toss you over my—?” He raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Then he started pacing.
She watched his leashed movements. This was a man used to being in control.
This was also a man who made her heart do that flippy thing. Still.
She could not believe how quickly all that old emotion had rushed back. She’d been so sure she’d outgrown her schoolgirl crush on him. Sure that she’d shaken off all thoughts of him just as she’d shaken Harkness’s dust from her shoes.
She certainly hadn’t pined for him. She’d made new friends in New York, dated men. In fact, she’d had two serious boyfriends. They’d been writers like herself, except not quite so starving as she. Cooper had been a great guy. Fun. And Jarrod had been exciting, if a little self-absorbed. She’d even brought Jarrod home for Christmas last year, taken him to the annual community Christmas celebration at the Standish place. But both of those relationships had fizzled out within six months, ending in a mutual goodbye. And no looking back. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought much about either of them from the moment they parted.
But Titus Standish…
Why was it that this boy from back home had always stirred something up inside? Something that took a while to settle back down again each time. God, wasn’t she too old for that kind of a crush?
She didn’t know the answer to that riddle, but she did know there was no way he was going to make her give up on her plan of conquering the mountain.
Titus looked her up and down. “So, can you travel?”
She jutted her chin defiantly. “As in back down the mountain?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems like you’re set on not going back just yet. So I’m asking, are you fit to go wherever it is you intend to go?”
She blinked. “You know where I intend to go. White Crow Cliff. Where Lacey died.”
“Fine.” He adjusted his pack on his back and looked at her. “Lead the way.”
What the…? “What’s going on here? I thought you were going to he-man me down the mountain. Wasn’t that your plan? Your threat?”
If her words rattled him, he didn’t show it.
“Despite the impression I may have given you, being the king of the mountain and all, physically carting women off against their will isn’t part of the job description. I can’t force you to go back. But neither am I going to leave you alone to get lost—or fall— again.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You’re going to help me get to White Crow?”
“Help?” He shook his head. “Not a chance. But I’m not leaving, either. Because I sure as hell am not going to be part of hauling another body bag down from this cursed place.”
He was talking about Lacey.
Ocean studied him for long moments. “You’re really not going to try to make me go back?”
“Would you go willingly?”
She bit her lip. “I can’t.”
“Then I can’t force you. I won’t manhandle you, as you so eloquently put it.”
He looked away. Even with slightly wild hat hair from the toque he’d removed and shoved into his pocket earlier as he’d knelt over her, he looked ridiculously gorgeous. And wow, had he filled out over the years. He’d always been powerful—a lifetime of farm work would do that. But he’d always been wiry-strong. Then, when he was somewhere in his middle-twenties, he’d started training. Gradually, he’d transformed wiry-strong into powerhouse-strong. These days, he looked more like the men in those firemen calendars than the boy she’d mooned over.
He turned back to her, catching her staring. Crap.
“I won’t lift a finger. Not until you give up and need me to. Not until you ask me to.”
Her spine stiffened. “You think I’m going to fail? That I’ll be too weak, too scared to succeed?”
“I think you’re going to reconsider—”
Her jaw tightened. “Just like I had to reconsider my writing career.”
He blinked. “Your writing career? What does that have to do with—”
“That’ll be a cold day in hell, Titus Standish!”
“Or a cold night up here.”
He reached into his coat and grabbed his sat phone. He glanced down for seconds as he punched in the number. Whoever he was calling answered quickly.
“Hey, Scott.” A pause. “Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t answer. I was otherwise, um…occupied.” He shot a glance to Ocean. “What’s the situation with Ember?”
Ember? What was that all about?
“Yeah, you and me both, brother.” Titus listened some more and nodded. “Let me know when she gets back so I can quit worrying.”
He looked at Ocean as he spoke. “Yeah, I’ve got her, and she’s okay, but I’m not entirely sure we’re going to get down tonight.” Laughing, he turned away. “No, nothing like that. I just don’t want to push her too hard.”
Nothing like that? She could just imagine what Scott Standish thought his brother was getting up to! And saying he didn’t want to push her too hard? Clearly he was trying to cast himself as in control of this situation.
But how did that cast her?
Titus turned back around just then to meet her gaze. “Right. So I’ll need you to call Faye Siliker.”
There was a pause, during which Scott obviously queried why he should be the one to call her mother.
“Because I’ve got my hands full right now. Tell her I found her daughter. She’s with me and she’s safe. Tell her I’ll get her home as soon as I can. That might be tonight, or it might be tomorrow. And while you’re at it, maybe you could call Dad for me too?”
He paused to listen.
Titus grinned in response to whatever Scott was saying. Knowing Scott, it was more sexual innuendo.
“I’ll phone you if I need you to call in backup on this one,” Titus continued. “Right now what I’m dealing with is a stubborn—”
Quickly she closed in a step and snatched the phone from his hand.
“Hi, Scott.” She strolled away.
She could hear the surprise in Scott’s voice. “Oh, hi, Ocean. How’re you doing?”
“I’m great. Couldn’t be better. Listen, when you call my mom to let her know I’m all right, would you also make sure she knows I’m definitely not going to make it back tonight?” She glared at Titus. “I’ll come down when I’m damned good and ready.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Um, you want me tell your mother that last part?”
“No, that was more for your hulking brute of a brother’s benefit. Just…you know…tell her I’m safe, I’m with Titus, and not to look for me before tomorrow.”
She ended the call.
He held his hand out for the phone, but she didn’t return it immediately.
“Are we clear now?” She looked at him with defiant eyes. “I won’t be treated like a child. I intend to climb this mountain, all the way to White Crow Cliff.”
“I got it. You’re going to climb the mountain. Now give me back the phone.”
“So you can call for backup to extract me?”
“That was a joke, Ocean. No one can make you leave if you want to stay, as long as you’re of sound mind and can make those decisions for yourself.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to suggest now that I’m not of sound mind because of the fall? I didn’t hit my head. You felt my scalp. No lumps.”
“Agreed.” He held her skeptical gaze. “You don’t appear to have hit your head. And I don’t believe you have a concussion. But that’s a good example. If you had clunked it and were concussed and confused, I’d have to get you off this mountain and to a hospital, whether you wanted to go or not.”
She stil
l looked unconvinced.
He sighed. “Look, how about if I promise not to call anyone behind your back? That you’ll be present and listening to every conversation? Would that reassure you? Because I have to have that phone. This is not just me being a control freak. What if there was another emergency on the mountain, and they were counting on me to respond?”
“Okay, we have a deal.” She slapped the phone into his outstretched palm. “But if you’re bullshitting me, Titus Standish, you’d better plan on calling the whole damn army for backup.”
An army? He had a feeling it would take dynamite to move her, once she dug in.
Chapter 9
IT WAS getting dark quickly, and Titus found himself wishing for a couple more hours of daylight. Not just for the obvious safety reasons, but because of the way Ocean moved as she walked in front of him. It was driving him crazy, in the best possible way. He couldn’t stop imagining touching her. Gripping her hips, pulling that sweet butt back against him. Slipping a hand inside that bomber jacket to cup a perfect, rounded breast.
He wouldn’t do it, of course. Wouldn’t manhandle her. Hell, he wouldn’t touch any woman without her explicit invitation. And no invitation was going to be forthcoming from this woman. Not judging by the way she’d looked at him back there. At this point, it’d take a freakin’ wild animal to chase her into his arms.
Why was there never a black bear around when you needed one?
Not that bears or anything else were a huge worry up here. He’d been tramping around these woods long enough to know wild animals liked to stay clear of humans if they possibly could. As long as people maintained a healthy respect for wildlife, those sorts of encounters were rare. Not unheard of, but not common, thankfully.
Ocean walked ahead of him, her right hand nearly brushing the wall of rock beside her with each stride. He was careful not to let her get too far ahead. Certainly not beyond a quick reach.
He was in good shape—hadn’t deviated from his grueling workout schedule in years. His cardio conditioning was second to none. But when Titus had seen Ocean catch her toe and pitch forward, he could have sworn his heart had stopped. That wouldn’t be happening again.
But not even that fall had been enough to stop her from trying to make it to White Crow Cliff.
