Every year, some brainless hiker got himself mauled because he tried to take selfies with bear cubs or store his leftover hot dogs in his tent. And what happened to the innocent bear, just protecting its cubs or grabbing a midnight snack? Death penalty!
“No, I did not think about what would happen to the bear after it ate me,” Teagan admitted, shifting uncomfortably beneath her.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Darcy said with disgust. “You people never think about anyone but yourselves.”
God, this job would be so much easier if it weren’t for the frigging guests. Rich jerks who left their trash all overthe place, complained constantly about the beautiful wilderness they were despoiling, and spent their time feeling sad they weren’t allowed to do all the drugs they wanted.
The coyotes kept me up all night. Could you do anything about that?
What do you mean there’s no coffee? Could I just get a drip cup?
The floor of my tent is dirty. Could someone vacuum it while I’m on my trail ride?
But this guy had just climbed the hierarchy of useless jerks: a lost little gym bunny who’d never bothered to ask whether a bear shit in the woods.
Not that he was so little. Unfortunately, he was tall and broad-shouldered for how slender he was, which probably meant he looked good when dressed in something other than his gym clothes but was really going to suck for Darcy when she had to carry him back to camp.
“I’m sorry that my mauling has ruined your day,” Teagan said. His tone was appropriately contrite, but his words made her squint suspiciously at his deadpan expression to check whether he had dared to sass her. “How can I make it up to you?”
“You’re not mauled,” she scoffed. “Just a little banged up.” She’d showhimmauled if this made the wildlife officials start sniffing around Rachel’s outfit.
“I think I’m bleeding, actually,” he said with an apologetic wince.
Darcy looked down sharply. She hadn’t noticed that. Hadn’t checked for it either.
Guess nobody was thinking today, Chief.There was a spreading red stain across the left side of his body.
“Christ,” she breathed. “Donotdie on me up here;everyone will think I killed you.” She scrabbled for her backpack, which had a basic first aid kit somewhere.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Teagan said, but his judgment was obviously not to be trusted.
“Take off your shirt so I can see if your guts are falling out, jackass,” Darcy growled at him, hands rattling on the box of bandages. It had been more than a decade since her first-aid training, and Darcy had been on the noncombatant training arc, so that hadn’t amounted to much in the first place. Her confidence that this rescue mission would be successful and casualty-free dipped. What if he died? What if she’d just yelled at him for getting killed, and then hedied?
Darcy jerked Teagan’s sweatshirt up, revealing a pale, muscular—and unmauled—stomach. She mentally revised her opinion of his workout routine. He was spending plenty of time at the gym.
“Where’s the blood coming from?” she asked, confused.
Teagan looked down at the red mess on his sweatshirt. “I think most of that is raspberries,” he said, although his face was a little pinched. He stuck a finger in it, then put his finger in his mouth. “Yeah, raspberries.”
She smacked him one more time in the shoulder for good measure. “Jesus Christ! Are you the most annoying person in the entire world? Where are you bleeding?”
Teagan pointed at his hip.
“Then take off your damn pants,” Darcy said, reaching for the waistband of his sweats.
Teagan intercepted her hands.
“Maybe I could buy you dinner first?” he said, pushing back against her wrists.
Darcy dramatically rolled her eyes. “If you’re not wearingunderwear, I promise I will never tell a soul what your junk looks like.”
“I’m wearing underwear, but—”
“Oh my God! Why are you being so precious about this, then? Take off your pants!”
He hesitated. But he complied. Still looking very peaked, Teagan reluctantly slid his pants down. Darcy then understood his objection.
“So, my sister packed my clothes—”
