Page 19 of Her Reluctant Hero
If he’d told her they would be airlifted into Air Force One, she wouldn’t have been more surprised. Or relieved. But… “Where?”
He pointed up, still looking at her. “There.”
She followed his finger. “In the tree.”
“Yep.”
“How are we going to get there?”
He swung his pack on his shoulder and grinned—the first smile she’d seen, and the flash of white teeth took her breath away. She had thought he was handsome before, sure, the lean planes of his face accented by his shorn brown hair and his body honed to perfection. But there had been nothing in his eyes but contempt.
Until now.
He was challenging her, probably his way of motivating her. A challenge, she could take. Except she’d never climbed a tree before, not even as a kid. She’d always been a princess.
“Why in the tree?” she asked.
“Because if Saldana’s men come, they won’t be likely to look in the trees.”
That made sense. “What about jaguars?”
“They’re nocturnal. We have a couple of good hours before we have to worry about them.” He followed her gaze up. “It’s not the featherbed you’re used to, but it will be safe enough. I’ll go first.” He moved toward the tree and inspected it for a moment, finding hidden footholds before muscling his way to the first fork, about ten feet off the ground.
Then he turned and reached for her.
Right. She secured her pack behind her and gripped the tree, trying to find the footholds he’d found in the slick bark. Her already throbbing feet protested as she clumsily bumped them against the trunk, searching for a way to get up.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“I’m not as closely related to my ape ancestors as you,” she muttered and hauled her weight onto the slight foothold she’d found, only to slide loose and hit the ground with enough force to have her feet screaming.
“Jesus, Goddess.”
“I’ve never climbed a tree before,” she said, frustration making her grit her teeth. “And quit calling me that. My name is Isabella.”
“I know your name.”
She tried again, with a different foothold, refused to see how far away he was.
“I know what yours is too,” she said, almost breathless with the effort of hauling herself up almost two feet from the ground. Her stupid pack made her off balance. “That A on your name patch? It’s Asshole, isn’t it?”
He chuckled softly, but his voice sounded close. She looked up in surprise to find his fingers closer than she thought, and she gave herself a heave until their fingers brushed, another till he could grip her wrist and pull.
When she was sitting beside him in the Y of tree branches, he turned to her and grinned. “You got it, sweetheart.”
The first fork in the tree wasn’t good enough for him. No, it was too close to the ground. So they had to climb to the next one. If he thought she was going to be able to fall asleep twenty feet from the ground, where one shift of her weight while she was sleeping could send her tumbling out of the tree and onto her head…
“Come over here.” It was a command, so she paused. They were in close-enough quarters but he wanted her closer.
Part of her hesitation was that, well, she was a little scared of him. He didn’t like her, had no reason to keep her safe, and she was slowing him down. He might well push her to the ground.
The other reason was that she smelled to high heaven, and she was still woman enough to worry about his reaction to that.
Not that he smelled any better.
Not that she noticed what he smelled like.
“Goddamn.” He stopped himself. “Isabella, get over here. Just treat me like your pillow, all right?”
