Page 44 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“I got you something else.” He cleared off one side of the island, then slid a piece of rolled-up paper from the cardboard tube.
“We have a large format printer at the office,” he explained, smoothing it out.
I snagged a scone and took a too-big bite as I circled the granite countertop. “Is this—”
“A topographical map. From the trailer park to here. This way we can plot out the route you took and use GPS coordinates, then make a search plan so we don’t miss anything.”
I scanned the map, then locked eyes with him. “This is brilliant.”
He grinned again. Damn. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of that expression. He was so serious and stoic, his thick beard and glasses only adding to the façade. But when he smiled, his expression turned boyish and a bit naughty.
“I told you I could help. We’ve got to be smart about this. We’ll construct our search perimeter and then strategically comb the area.”
I smoothed my hand over the thick paper as hope swelled in my chest. I’d been running around like an idiot, searching with no plan and no sense of where I’d been. This was so much better.
“Thank you.” This entire thing was beyond logical, and yet here he was with his giant map and his plan, ready to help me.
He shrugged. “I told you—we’re in this together. But what if the phone is damaged?”
“I had a fancy case. Waterproof and shatterproof. Obviously that’s no guarantee, but it’s something.”
He nodded. God, I hoped this wouldn’t be a complete failure. It would be bad enough if I messed it all up on my own. I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I dragged him into it with me and it was a bust.
“Let’s work through the path you took.” He held out a pencil. “Then we can prioritize the areas we’re more likely to find it, like where you had to crawl.”
I walked around the table, finishing my scone, and oriented myself. I took the pencil from him, and for several seconds, I studied the details of the map, taking in landmarks. Then, tentatively, I leaned over the island and plotted where I’d started, where I’d ridden the motorcycle, and where I’d entered the state forest.
It was difficult to tell, even with a detailed map, where I’d veered off the trail.
“We can drive over there tomorrow and use the app on my phone to record the coordinates of some of the spots you remember.”
“I do. I remember some of the rock formations and the trees. I can find my hiding spot again.” Eyes trained on the map, I circled the island, trying to recreate the feel of running through the forest.
“I think it was roughly around here.” I used my index finger to circle a small area. “But if I see it, I can be more precise. I haven’t been able to hike out that far yet.”
He covered my hand with his large, warm one.
It took willpower, but I did my best to ignore the small tinge of heat that shot through me.
“We’ll drive out tomorrow and retrace your steps.” He squeezed my fingers gently. “We’ll find it together.”
Affection surged through me. For so long, he’d lived in my memory as a sexy one-night stand. The cute musician I’d lusted over.
But over the last week, I’d seen so many sides of him, and my affection had grown exponentially. He was smart, curious, and caring. And the more time I spent with him, the more at ease I felt.
In my experience, words were cheap. Most people could say the right thing and even offer to help, but few would dive in the way he had. And it was rare to find a person who could match my intensity and not be scared off.
This moment was a simple one, but it felt as though he was showing me who he truly was. Someone who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. A man who was not intimidated by me. A man who could handle me. All of me.
My cheeks heated under his scrutiny. Why had I come here? Yes, I needed the help, but why had my first instinct been to seek out this man I’d spent a single night with? And why did the help have to come with a side of orgasmic memories and sexy banter?
“Thank you.” I kept my focus on the map, feeling more hopeful than I had in the past week. “I really need the help.”
“Partners,” he said, holding out his hand.
I squeezed my eyes shut, digging deep for bravery.
“Yes.” I forced myself to zero in on him and slide my palm against his. There was no denying the rush of electricity I felt this time. The longer I stayed here, the less control I had. One of these days, our hair-brushing routine alone might be enough to cause an orgasm.
