She’d shrieked. Fuck, that yelp of fear sliced him in two.
He didn’t feel the cold of the water. What would have been a shocking blast to his balls, was nothing. He was numb, his body feeling nothing but the urgent need to get to Tabitha and make sure she wasn’t hurt. That nothing was broken.
Or worse.
As he reached her side, she was already standing and wiping water from her face. With lips pulled back and teeth bared, her expression was hard to translate. Was she grimacing? Smiling? Either way, Zac was so relieved she hadn’t hit her head and knocked herself out that he wrapped his arms around her sopping body and hugged her tightly.
She didn’t try to push away—how could she have when he had her arms pinned to her sides?
He loosened his grip, the urge to inspect her overtaking his thoughts. He went from one arm then to the other, bending her elbows, rotating her shoulders, all the while dragging his calloused fingers over her soft, smooth skin. Goose bumps pricked beneath his hands and his heart surged in his chest, while his pulse traveled lower.
Thank god for the icy river.
“Zac, I’m fine. What are you, woah—”
Her words cut off as he slid a forearm beneath her knees and hauled her up out of the water. Braced to his chest, Tabitha protested.
And Zac tuned her out.
Because all that mattered was ensuring she was unbroken.
The long-legged redhead squirmed against him as he carried her back to the river bank.
Lark stood at the edge, doing what she did best—snapping goddamned photos. Capturing the moment that Zac lost his mind over his woman’s possible injuries.
His woman.
That sounded nice but was ultimately wrong. Zac shook his head, dispelling the alluring thought to focus on Tabitha’s care.
“A little help, blondie?” he barked grumpily and nodded to the crash pads he’d propped against the logs earlier.
“I think she’s ok.”
“I am ok.” Tabitha sighed. “Zac, I’m fine.”
Not until I see for myself.
“Lark.” Zac’s voice changed: less bark, more pleading. “The crash pad.”
He ignored the glimmer in her eyes as she secured her camera out of the way and settled the bulky pad on a level spot on the gravel. He knelt in the rocks and, with all the gentleness he possessed, set Tabitha down.
The second her butt hit the pad, she squirmed to get up, but Zac had a firm hold on her hip with one hand while the other settled on her cheek.
“Please. I”—he swallowed the wordneed—“want to make sure you’re all right. You landed head first. I need to check you for concussion. Sprains. Cuts. Please.”
It was either the look of desperation he surely had on his face or the voice crack of the secondplease, but Tabitha nodded and relaxed a little.
Zac released her hip and cupped her jaw with both of his hands, turning her head this way and that. Her pupils appeared normal. No marks on her face or neck. Next, he pulled the band from her hair and slid his fingers into the thick, wet tresses in search of bumps or cuts.
“Anything tender here?” he asked quietly.
“No.” The single syllable was gentle, while her eyes locked on his face.
“Good.”
He released her hair and settled cross-legged. Then carefully wrapped his fingers around one of her ankles and settled her foot into his lap. He untied her laces and pried off the tight climbing shoe. Released from their confines, she wiggled her smooshed toes, and Zac chuckled inwardly. He’d nearly forgotten how short and squat they were. While everything on her was long and slim and graceful, he’d enjoyed teasing her about the stumpy little piggies.
“Not a word,” she warned.
