Page 17 of The Blaze Between Us

I examine her ankle, my touch as professional and impersonal as I can make it despite the circumstances. There's already swelling visible, and she flinches when I gently probe the area.

"It's not broken," I conclude, "but definitely sprained. You can't walk on this."

"I have to," she protests. "We can't stay out here in the rain."

"We won't," I assure her, already calculating our options. "But you're not walking anywhere on that ankle." I stand and turn my back to her, then crouch down slightly. "Put your arms around my neck."

"What? No, I can't let you carry me all the way down the mountain!"

"You don't have much choice," I point out reasonably. "It's either me or waiting several hours for Max and the ATV."

She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I'm too heavy," she says finally, her voice small.

The vulnerability in those three words catches me off guard. I turn to face her again, meeting her eyes directly for the first time since the storm began.

"Tasha," I say gently but firmly, "I've carried unconscious adults out of burning buildings. I think I can manage to get you down a hiking trail."

She searches my face, looking for any sign that I'm just being polite. Finding none, she finally nods. "Okay. But if your back gives out, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"

"Noted," I reply with a brief smile, relieved to see a flash of her humor returning. I turn again, crouching lower. "Arms around my neck, and I'll lift you."

I feel her arms encircle my neck hesitantly, her soft breasts pressing against my back as I hook my arms under her knees and stand. Her weight settles against me, and I adjust my stance to balance the load.

"Comfortable?" I ask, already knowing the answer is probably 'no.'

"As much as I can be," she says, her voice close to my ear. "This is mortifying."

"Consider it part of the Cedar Falls experience," I reply lightly, beginning to walk down the trail. "Local fire chief rescue service."

"Is that included in the tourist brochure?"

"VIP service only," I assure her, focusing intently on my footing. The added weight makes navigating the slippery trail even more challenging, but decades of physical training have prepared me for exactly this kind of situation.

What they haven't prepared me for is the feeling of Tasha pressed against my back, her arms around my neck, her breath warm against my ear. Every step brings a subtle shift of her body against mine, and I force myself to think of nothing but the trail ahead, the technical aspects of safe descent, and the professional duty to get an injured hiker back to safety.

Chapter 7 - Tasha

I've been embarrassed plenty of times in my life. There was the sixth-grade talent show where I forgot the words to "My Heart Will Go On." The college presentation where my blouse button popped open mid-speech. The time I accidentally sent a text meant for Ellie to my strict accounting professor.

But none of those moments come close to the mortification of being carried down a mountain by Brock Sullivan.

Chief Brock Sullivan. Fire department hero. My best friend's father. The man whose photos I may have lingered on a little too long whenever Ellie posted them.

And now his strong arms are hooked under my knees while my breasts are pressed against his broad back. My face is close enough to his neck that I can smell the clean, masculine scent of his skin beneath the earthy smell of rain and forest.

This is fine. Totally fine.

Except for the shooting pain in my ankle, the uncomfortable awareness of every curve of my body pressed against him, and the certainty that I must feel incredibly heavy despite his assurances to the contrary.

"How are you doing?" he asks, his deep voice vibrating through his back against my chest.

"I should be asking you that," I deflect, trying to hold myself as rigidly as possible to minimize contact. "I'm not exactly a lightweight."

He makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. "You're fine. Stop worrying about it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not getting a piggyback ride from your daughter's friend."

"True," he concedes. "But I did once have to carry one of my biggest firefighters down three flights of stairs during a training exercise while he pretended to be unconscious. Compared to that, this is a walk in the park."

---