After maybe ten minutes of lurching uphill, his rescuer gradually slowed until she stopped, still holding his hand.
“It’s gone,” she said.
Teagan sagged in relief. He wavered on his feet until his rescuer pushed him up against a broad tree trunk, finally releasing him.
“Okay, you can sit,” she panted. “Let’s look at you.”
Teagan slid down until his ass was on the ground, his legs splayed in front of him. Some of the bear spray had gone down his throat, and he coughed and hacked to get the burning taste out of his mouth.
The woman crouched over his knees, straddling him. She adjusted her position until she was comfortable on his thighs. He heard a lid being unscrewed. His rescuer wiped his face with what felt like the lower hem of her T-shirt and then, as he blinked, poured water directly into his eyes to flush them out. He’d kept his eyes screwed shut against the pain as he climbed, but he tried to clear them enough to squint at the woman who’d saved him.
Her features were very fuzzy at first. He was facing southwest, and the sun had dipped to backlight his rescuer. His clearing eyesight gave her a halo that his giddy relief mentally seconded. She was his age or a little younger, cheeks flushed with exertion over olive skin. Her long, wavy chestnut hair was caught in a high ponytail, with little tuftsescaping to stick to her temples and neck. The sun had bleached it golden at the tips and around the perfect oval of her face. Large chocolate-brown eyes regarded him with concern, and full berry-red lips were pursed under a dramatically arched nose. She looked like a pre-Raphaelite angel. Like an altarpiece.
“Are you going to be all right?” she asked from her perch over his knees.
Teagan took stock of his injuries. Nothing fatal, probably.
“Yes, I think so,” he said, his abused throat making his voice hoarse and gravelly. He tried to wipe more water and tears off his face. His hands were shaking.
His rescuer shifted her seat on his legs, letting more weight fall on them. He heard her breathing begin to slow. She must have run when she heard him start yelling, and she had a large backpack that she’d carried up the hill in addition to most of his body weight.
They locked eyes again, and Teagan felt his heart clench in his chest. She wasbeautiful.
His rescuer exhaled, shoulders relaxing. Some of the fear and desperation began to trickle out of Teagan’s body too. He was going to live, actually. He did not get eaten by the bear. He did not die alone on the mountain.
“Yes, thank you,” he said, gathering himself. “I’m okay.” He forced his eyes to open and his mind to focus so that he could catch her next words. She leaned in, fists resting gently on his torso.
“Motherfucker,” said the angel, with feeling.
four
Teagan Van Zijl’s eyes, which had started out rather shocky and unfocused, went round and impressed as Darcy began to bawl him out. She’d learned critique from a truly gifted chief petty officer, and although her current job offered few opportunities to practice that particular skill, she was alight with an incendiary mix of anger, fear, and disgust.
“Do you know how close you came to being bear chow?” she yelled directly into the man’s dazed face. His features were fine and patrician, mostly sharp angles around his chin and cheekbones, but decorated with incongruously thick eyelashes and a plush, full mouth, now hanging open in slack-jawed surprise.
“Did you wake up this morning and decide you were going to make the worst decisions possible, or was this an impulse thing? Did you think, ‘Damn, Darcy doesn’t have enough to do today. I should go hiking. By myself. In bear country. In July. With no fucking bear spray. That’ll do the trick!’ ”
“Are you Darcy?” he tried to interject, wiping again at his wet face and only managing to smear more dirt across it.
She smacked him in the chest with one palm. The big dork was dressed like he was going to use the ellipticalmachine for twenty minutes at the 24 Hour Fitness. He didn’t even have a water bottle with him, let alone bear spray or an emergency beacon.
“Yes, I’m fucking Darcy. The woman who is asking you what the hell you were thinking?!”
“I thought—”
“Did you really?Didyou think?” she demanded.
Teagan’s throat moved as he swallowed.
“I guess I wasn’t thinking,” he said faintly.
No, Chief, I wasn’t thinking.
“Do you know what would have happened if you got yourself killed up here? Do you know what a shitstorm that would have been for everyone? Me? The Goederts? The bear?”
Teagan coughed. “Thebear?” he asked, a little incredulously.
Darcy smacked his chest again. “Yes, the bear! A bunch of jackbooted assholes from Montana Fish and Wildlife would have come up here andmurderedthat bear. Did you think about that?”
