“I aim to please.”
“I’m such a klutz.”
“Those rocks are slick as ice. Should’ve warned you.”
She thought of the last four days and gave a dry laugh. “What a week. I’ve been publicly maligned, betrayed by a so-called friend, taken a honeymoon alone, and sprained my ankle. That takes a special kind of talent. Good thing the paparazzi aren’t around. I can see the headlines now: ‘Mia Emerson, distraught from rejection, tries to drown herself in creek, winds up in hospital.’”
He chuckled. “Or ‘Emma Taylor, in jealous rage, pushes Mia Emerson down stairs.’”
“Oh no, America’s sweetheart would never do such a thing.” She winced at her bitter tone. “Sorry, that was harsh. This isn’t Emma’s fault.”
He paused to hitch her weight up.
“Do you need to stop and rest? Your back must be killing you. Not to mention your arms.” Although they felt pretty darn nice, she had to admit. He wasn’t big and bulky, but he was strong and solid with capable broad shoulders.
“I’m all right for now. I’m just glad you weren’t up there alone. And it could be worse; at least it’s downhill, huh?”
“I didn’t take you for such a Polly Positive.”
He huffed. “Molly must be rubbing off on me. I’m usually the pragmatic one.”
“That’s something we have in common then. And where does Grace fall? Is she a pessimist? Sorry, you should probably save your breath for important things like surviving.”
“Yeah, Grace is more of a pessimist—and I can actually use the distraction.”
“From the pain of carrying me down a mountain on your back?”
He chuckled. “You do realize I’m the envy of every guy in America right now. You could sell tickets.”
She laughed. “Oh, you flatterer, you.”
“It’s the truth, and you know it. How does it feel to be so well loved?”
“A little creepy sometimes, actually. And let’s be honest. It’s not really me they love, just their idea of who they think I am or who they want me to be. That’s not love. They have no idea who I really am.”
“And who are you, Mia Emerson?”
He’d certainly picked right up where they’d left off last night. Then again, she was riding on his back. And maybe he was too distracted by his physical efforts to weigh his words carefully.
“I think,” she said, “that’s something you only learn by spending time with a person.”
“True enough. I’ve only had a few days to form an opinion, but so far I’d say you’re strong, resilient, and down-to-earth—for a Hollywood type.” The last part was said in a teasing tone.
Warmth flooded her at his complimentary assessment. She didn’t always feel so strong and resilient. “You forgot clumsy.”
“Trying to be nice. How’s your ankle?”
“Not great. I guess I need a distraction too. Do you think your friend will be able see me right away?”
“Unless he’s out on a call. He’s actually a mechanic by trade, but he’s also a volunteer on the fire department.”
“Known him all your life?”
“Pretty much. He was the one who called when my parents had the accident.” He paused to shift her weight and gave his head a shake before starting off again. “Don’t know why I just told you that.”
She didn’t either, but she liked that he was opening up to her. “It must’ve been a terrible shock.”
A moment passed before he answered. “It was. I was home for a week to visit. Mom and Dad had an estate sale they wanted to go to—they were buying things for the inn—but Mom didn’t want to take time away from our visit. I encouraged them to go.”
