Page 30 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“Vigilant?” Now it’s my turn to reach for the flask because it feels like I’m about to witness another layer stripped from this man. “Are you sure you’re not an assassin?”

His mouth twitches with the beginnings of what could be a small grin before he opens his mouth to respond. “I’m dealing with a situation that could cost me a lot of time, money, and my reputation.” He drinks again. “All part of the fun.”

Whatever it is, it’s bound to be juicy, and with the speed he’s going through the scotch, I’m sure I’m about to learn some serious gossip.

If only it weren’t for the crack of static that blasts from the radio.

We startle out of our conversation.

Jack seizes the radio, holding down the side button while barking into the receiver.

“Watch Tower, are you there? Come in.”

Static scratches again, then a deep male’s voice comes from the device. “This is Watch Tower, confirm your name. Over.”

“This is Juliet Victor. Over,” Jack replies as I watch himwith fresh curiosity.Juliet Victor?Some kind of hiker’s code name?

“Good to hear your voice. The storm fried the signal. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. You called earlier? Over.” The voice relaxes by a hairpin, but the formal undertone remains.

Confidently, as if he isn’t half a bottle of scotch down, he replies, “I need assistance over on the lower side of the east peak. Around a mile west of the abandoned road. Over.”

“Copy that.” The voice confirms. “I can have a chopper to you in…give or take an hour. The storm will prove tricky, but we’ll get to you. Over.”

Jack’s about to reply, but I lean forward, stopping him by placing my hand on his too large forearm and pushing the radio from his face. His body becomes stiff, and again I wonder if he’s uncomfortable with me getting too close. “Wait,” I say, letting my hand drop from his arm and watching him visibly relax. “It’s not fair to get them out here in these conditions, especially when there’s no real emergency.”

Confusion blares in his eyes. “Are you saying you want to stay here?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to, but I will.” I say it with resolve, like there’s some untapped corner of my personality lying in wait, a part that’s willing to spend a night in a tent.

“Are you serious?” He offers a final escape.

“Very.” I nod profusely, answering before the scotch wears off. “Tell them to wait until morning, when the storm clears.”

He glances down at my bare legs that spill from under his sweater. “You need to get that ankle checked.”

“You’re banged up too. Your hand, remember?” I flick my gaze to his hand that’s bandaged up in a fresh dressing hemust have attended to while I was busy with the whole peeing/moose situation.

“I’m fine,” he says, fixing his piercing blue eyes on me. “I think you should get checked over, Sara. Help is only an hour away.”

The thought is more than appealing, it’s downright tantalizing. Almost to the point of torture. I could be out of here in an hour. Possibly even back to the hotel. I could sleep in gorgeous luxury bedding and order midnight room service. I could even have that margarita in the tub, all before the night is out.

Yet there’s this feeling knotted in the pit of my stomach. A feeling that tells me I deserve everything that’s happened to me since I got off the plane.

The car crash, the trek into the unknown, the endless abundance of insects and spiderwebs, the storm, the near-death moose experience. The inevitable bill I’ll have to charge to different credit cards to pay for the Jeep’s damages.

I deserve this. How I managed to convince myself I could lie to everyone and pull this off without consequences is reason enough not to be rescued.

Did I really think I could go back to the city and tell everyone I embarked on this hike? It wouldn’t stop there, I’d have to keep the lie going. I’d have to tell my friends, maybe even my parents, I’m operating on so many levels of wrong.

A ragged sigh escapes from my throat because my decision here feels pivotal.

If I wanted to be the person my boss and Drew think I am, then I had to fight for it. A night in a tent is not something the old Sara would have done, but since I’ve already come this far…

“No,” I say with scotch-infused determination. “I’ll sleephere, and in the morning, I’ll hike to that tower and get help from there. Call them off.”

Jack opens his mouth to protest but must think better of it since he turns back to the radio. “Change of plans. Have assistance ready by first light tomorrow morning. We’ll be at the Eastcreek Tower. No immediate medical assistance required.” Then, with reluctance like he’s second guessing his decision to agree with me, he adds, “Over.”

The radio buzzes a couple more times while Jack and emergency rescue confirm plans for tomorrow.

---