Page 219 of Her Reluctant Hero
She’d suffered the loss of two people she loved more than anything. She wasn’t strong enough to go through that again.
The day warmed up quickly and their earlier progress slowed. More soot coated their already filthy skin, clung there, glued with sweat. Peyton licked her chapped lips, grimaced at the taste. She took out her water, sipped enough to clean off her lips.
“You hanging in?” he asked, his eyes dark with concern.
“Thirsty.”
“You can have some of my water.” He reached for his pack.
Her heart did a little trip at his generosity, but she couldn’t let him make the sacrifice. She shook her head. “I’ll deal.”
“Peyton,” he began, his tone chiding.
“If I need it, I’ll get it, all right?”
Gabe slowed, held a hand back to stop her.
She skidded behind him, scanned past him, pulse racing in anticipation. “What? What is it?”
“The wind is coming up.”
She felt it now, saw the blackened earth skittering along the ground toward them. A chill that had nothing to do with the breeze ran over her skin.
“What does that mean?” she asked through chapped lips, but already had a good idea.
“Any embers left behind could flare up, or the fire could start heading back this way.” “There’s nothing for it to burn.” The shrill note of panic in her voice made her cringe.
“You saw yesterday how it can find something to feed on.” His face was set in a grim line, but he didn’t slow down.
“So what do we do?” He’d gotten them safely this far. She waited to hear his plan.
“We keep going till we can’t go anymore.”
Some plan. “That’s it?”
He grinned over at her, the defiant face-the-devil smile she’d seen the day before at the Girl Scout camp. “That’s it.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll see.”
The plan did not sound promising. She had to distract herself. Her thoughts wandered back to last night, but that proved to be the wrong kind of distraction as she remembered the way his arm had tightened around her in sleep, the way his hips pressed against her bottom. The way his body had reacted to their proximity.
She shook the thought away. She’d get information from him for her story. “So do you work for the Forest Service all year?”
“This isn’t an interview, is it?”
“You don’t give interviews,” she replied tartly. “Do you talk?”
“Am I talking to you, or a reporter?”
“Does there have to be a difference?”
“That’s a question,” he pointed out.
“You know?” She lifted her hand in exasperation, let it fall against her thigh with a slap. “I knew that. I can’t believe you won’t answer any questions. Why?”
“Another question.” But a smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
