My heart was fluttering nervously in my chest, both from the effort of trying to climb the gate and from the shock of falling.
Surely it wasn’t Jameson making my heart flip upside down, was it?
I was breathing hard as he let go of me, and I leaned back against him, not ready for my support system to disappear just yet.
Tentatively, he re-wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Are you sure you’re okay, Leah? It was just a tiny tumble. We can try again when you’re ready.”
I turned to face him, and he dropped his arms quickly. “I’m never going to make it over that fence. I’m sorry. I’m an extremely capable woman, but I have a mild fear of heights and…”
It felt strange confiding in someone I didn’t know, but then the words tumbled out of my mouth, anyway. “When I was eight, I was playing with a friend out on their balcony. The railing was old and not very steady anymore. We were just goofing around and they pushed me into the railing,” I paused as the memory of that day flooded in, “and the wood gave out. I-I started to fall but their dad caught me at the last second. I was dangling down with nothing but him holding me up, and I’ve never been able to handle heights since then.”
The experience had marked me, whether I understood it at the time or not. I’d never forgotten what it was like dangling weightless, staring at the ground one story below, certain that I was about to die.
“Don’t be sorry.” He eyed me carefully, the formidable expression on his face softening slightly. “I tell you what. We’re on Plan C now. There’s a historical display cabin about a mile back down the trail.” He picked up his chainsaw and nodded toward the trees. “It’s got a fireplace and bear pelts. It’s primitive, but we can stay warm there for the night.”
I stared at him, this stranger with steady blue eyes, and realized I was about to spend the night in a cabin in the woods with a man I didn’t even know.
What the hell am I doing?
But I didn’t exactly have a choice. I had to put my trust in him.
Chapter 4
Jameson
The rain was picking up now, fat drops splattering against the pavement and soaking through my sweater. I jogged over to my truck and stashed my chainsaw. Then grabbed my rain parka from behind the seat and brought it back to where Leah stood hugging herself against the chill.
“Here,” I held it out to her. “Put this on.”
She hesitated, her eyes dropping to my already-damp sweater. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. Wool dries.” I held the jacket out to her until she took it. “I’ll lay my sweater out by the fire when we get to the cabin.”
The parka swallowed her, the hem falling past her hips and the sleeves hanging over her hands. She looked ridiculous and adorable, swimming in my jacket with her perfect red hair not so perfect anymore. It was starting to frizz at the edges from the moisture. I grabbed my backpack from where I’d set it down, then nodded toward the trailhead.
“Stay close,” I rumbled. “The path gets a little tricky in the dark.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes, my boots finding the familiar grooves of the trail. She was doing okay, keeping pace despite the uneven terrain, though she was breathing harder than someone used to this kind of hike would.
“So you volunteer out here?” she asked, her voice cutting through the patter of rain on leaves. “Cutting up the fallen trees?”
“When I can. The ice storm knocked down a lot of timber, and the park service is stretched thin.” I ducked under a low-hanging branch and held it back for her. “Most of the men in town are busy with roof repairs right now.”
“That’s really nice of you.”
I shrugged, though she probably couldn’t see it in the fading light. “I know these trails better than most. Figured I might as well help out.”
“And you said do tours?”
“Yup. I run a wilderness tour company with my buddy, Boone.” I adjusted my grip on the chainsaw, shifting its weight to my other hand. “We take groups out for primitive camping trips, survival courses, hunting trips, that kind of thing.”
“So I’m in good hands then.”
Something about the way she said that made warmth spread through my chest. “Yeah. You’re in good hands. So what do you do, Leah?”
She was quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear her thinking. “I’m a data analyst,” she offered, “from Boston.”
“Long way from home. Where’s the rest of your group?”
