Page 8 of Marked by the Mountain Man

“Out of this canyon to higher ground, or we’re going to get caught up in the water again.”

She shakes her head, staring at me. “Sorry, I forgot my hiking boots.”

“I can give you mine, but they’re way too big,” I observe, holding one of her feet. It’s colder than ice. I wonder how she’s still with me.

Moving her in this condition presents its own problems. She’s clearly hypothermic, which means sudden movements could send cold blood to her heart, sending her cardiovascular system into shock. But the roar of the angry water provides no other options.

“Can you hike barefoot, or do you want to try with socks?” I ask. I have an extra wool pair in my sack, but I’m torn about whether to give them to her, certain the grip of bare flesh is superior to slippery wool.

She lifts her head. “You’re serious? Oh, God.”

“Yes, we have to go now.”

I rise, leaning over to take her frigid hand. She stumbles to her feet, grabbing hold of me to stay steady.

“Are you dizzy?” I ask.

She nods, pressing her tits against my chest as she clings to me.

“Hold onto me. Okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her pretty heart-shaped face betrays the same skepticism buried beneath my words. “We’re going to follow that trail up, which means sticking together, leaning into the rock face, and not looking down. Understood?”

Her gaze follows the trail up, her face twisting and eyes rounding. “Oh, God,” she exclaims. “There are only two things I’m afraid of in this world. “Spiders and heights. What are the odds there are tarantulas up there?”

I chuckle, grabbing her hand and starting up the trail. I don’t know if it’s better to have her in front or behind me. All I know is the clock’s ticking. “Focus on the climb, Hadleigh, and don’t look down.”

She swallows loudly, face somehow growing even paler. Her warm brown eyes transfix me. I lean in, kissing her icy lips chastely, desperate for one taste before we fight gravity for our lives.

“What was that for?” her voice croaks.

“Good luck.”

We climb slowly, the roar of the river swelling below us as rain pitter-patters our skin. The path narrows and steepens. Hadleigh gasps, gripping my hand so tightly, her knuckles turn white. Tears squeeze from her eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You’re stronger than you know, Hadleigh. You’ve got this.”

“Oh God,” she whimpers.

“A couple of hours from now, you’ll look back on this moment and realize how brave you are.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “Nice words for someone who’s supposed to be a total asshole.”

Her words take me aback for a moment until I put two and two together. The corners of my mouth turn down. “Is that what Drew told you about me?”

“Told my mom, who then told me. If it’s any consolation, neither of us believed him. But now I have flesh-and-blood proof.”

Her feet inch forward, her face relaxing slightly as the distraction of the words gets her past freezing on the ledge. I’ve got to talk her through this, but fuck, I’m no conversationalist. As a tattoo artist, I’m used to clients jabbering, not the other way around.

And what the fuck do you say to the woman who’s so fucking hot it makes your palms sweaty, your heart race, and your throat tighten like you’re back in high school? I have no game when it comes to this sexy mama.

Noticing how she knits her brows, I ask, “What’s on your mind, Hadleigh?”

She licks her lips, smiling ruefully. “Your first impression was with my dress around my waist. I can only imagine what you think of me.”

“I swear, I didn’t look,” I chuckle, body tensing at the vision of that sexy woman’s hidden curves.

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, I tried not to.”

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