Page 7

“She needs an apology, Dale.”

“No, I need an apology from her for wasting my ti⁠—”

Wham. Mac’s fist connected with Dale’s face.

Holy shit!

Mac shook out his fist and turned. He gave Jodie a big smile and a wave. Jodie watched open-mouthed as he made for her pack, then returned to the truck. He tucked her pack into a truck bed box, then came around the driver’s side and got in. He handed her a water bottle.

“Sorry I couldn’t get an apology out of him, Jodie.”

“That’s…okay, Mac. I think you got something much, much better.”

Then Mac calmly drove out of the parking lot and pointed the truck toward the nearest ER clinic.

TWO

He finally had her in his truck.

The sweetest, cutest—and now the funniest—woman Mac had ever met was sitting beside him in his beat-up, old, beloved truck.

Too bad it wasn’t for a date, but an emergency.

And what had Mac done? He’d gone and lost his cool.

But the son of a bitch deserved it. Guy was so full of himself, he couldn’t see what he had in Jodie. Mac would gladly take the swollen, bloody knuckles and any possible charges against him for the satisfaction of breaking that asshole’s nose.

She could have been killed. It was joked about, but an Alpine divorce was no laughing matter. Mac glanced at Jodie’s swollen ankle and hoped it wasn’t broken. What if he hadn’t been along to find her? The weather was wicked hot, and she didn’t have any water. Even if she’d managed to crawl down the mountain to her vehicle, she could have been dangerously dehydrated, and he knew all too well that could lead to permanent⁠—

“Everything okay over there, big guy?” Jodie cut through Mac’s dark thoughts.

“Sorry. I should be asking you that. How’s the ankle?” He lifted his chin in the direction of her foot.

“I won’t be wearing hiking boots for a while but I think I’ll live. How far’s the clinic?”

“About fifteen minutes away.”

“That’s not bad.” Her voice sounded chipper, but Mac could see the strain on her face.

“You need more water? Can I get you anything? Anything at all?”

“I’m good. I promise.” Jodie shifted carefully in the seat, then winced.

Mac’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Maybe I should’ve called Waylon anyway. Jodie would have killed him for it, but at least she’d have killed him from the back of an ambulance with a paramedic looking at that ankle instead of while he was possibly making it worse by driving her instead.

He glanced over again. She was staring out the passenger window, mouth set in a tight line.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jodie whipped her head around. She looked startled and confused. “For what?”

“Hitting Dale.”

“Mac, I’m trying to decide whether I should buy you dinner or just give you bail money.”

He laughed. “Hopefully, I won’t need bail money. And I’d never expect you to buy me dinner.”