She knew from her research that a litter was the stretcher rescuers used to carry an injured person down a mountain. While December wasn’t a good month to hike, she’d had to wait to get the permits for her grandmother’s ashes, and it had looked like the storm would hold off for another couple of days. The local weather forecast had been incorrect.
Quint looked her over, and her body somehow warmed. “I’d prefer not to use the litter. The terrain is too rocky and slick.” He leaned in. “In cases like this, it’s a lot easier to piggy you out. Are you up to it?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You want to give me a piggyback?”
Rory chuckled. “It is the easiest way, and we do it all the time. The question is if you can hold on.”
“I think you’re going into shock,” Quint said, eyeing her snowy and wet jacket.
She could handle this. “I’m okay. I can hold on.”
“Good.” His gaze lightened. “It’ll be a lot easier to climb up these boulders if you’re on my back.”
She breathed out and tried to sound cool and not like a love struck teenager. He was going to carry her out? Flutters wandered through her abdomen. “All right. Let me take off my other boot.”
He held up a hand. “You can keep it on.”
“No.” She tried to sit up straighter. “It’ll be easier for me to balance with both boots off, and that way, I won’t keep kicking you.” She winced. “I’ll apologize now for the late season huckleberry milkshakes I’ve been eating all week. I’m sure I was five pounds lighter last Monday.”
His smile warmed her enough to push the sense of shock away.
Quint kepta watch on the woman’s focus and complexion. Her eyes were clear but her mouth pinched with pain. She was pale but definitely putting on a brave face. Her eyes were the light green of his Nonna’s antique glassware and her hair a natural sandy blonde, and even beneath the snow gear, he could tell she had curves. A lot of curves.
He was a man who appreciated curves.
For now, he had to ignore her obvious allure and get her off this mountain before the next storm tried to take them out. It was a late winter, but they were about to be bombarded with snow. Thunder bellowed in the distance, promising rain first, and she jumped.
“It’s okay,” he said, turning his attention back to her ankle. “Your wrap is good, but I’m worried my movements will impact the ankle and really hurt you.” They could put her on the litter and lift her via ropes, but time wasn’t on their side. Carrying her out would be so much faster.
She gulped. “If I hold tight with my thighs, it’ll keep my ankle still. I can do it.” She glanced at the threatening sky, and her lips trembled.
That was not sexual. He mentally slapped himself in the head. Her scent of apple cider and cinnamon was going to drive him crazy, and he needed to get a grip on himself. He had a job to do.
Rory peered over his shoulder. “Your jacket will make it difficult for her to hold on, but she’s wet. Thoughts?”
Quint stayed on his haunches. “Heather? How do you feel about being inside my jacket? It’ll give you stability and I’ll keep you warm, but you’ll need to take off your wet coat.” He had to prevent her from going into shock, but he wanted to give her all the sense of control he could. The woman had to be terrified, even though she was trying to hide it.
“That works,” she said, her hands pressing the ground so she could stand.
“Whoa,” he said. “I’ll help you.” He held out his hands, and when she tentatively took them, he stood and gently lifted her with him. Her skin was soft and her wrist bones fragile.
She kept her weight on one foot with the injured ankle lifted. “You’re tall.”
He grinned. “So they tell me. You’re not.” He was about a foot or so taller than her at six-foot-two.
Her smile was pained. “I’ve heard.”
“All right.” He kept her hands. “Rory is going to help you with your coat while I assist with your balance. Don’t worry. He’s very rarely a pervert.”
Rory moved in. “Our mama would kick my butt if I even thought of being a pervert. That woman has been practicing Kenpo, too. She could probably do some damage.” His voice was cheerful and reassuring as he unzipped the jacket to reveal Heather’s plain white T-shirt and then removed the coat.
She looked down at her wet and slick pants. “I have leggings on beneath these.”
Rory folded her jacket and set it in her backpack. “I can help.”
She hesitated. “I, ah, feel like we’ve all bonded here and can keep a secret or two.” Her pretty face blushed, and a dusting of snow landed on her head.
Quint paused. “All right?” Curiosity grabbed him around the neck.
