No answer. Just the sound again, closer now.
And then a familiar shape appears at the edge of the ridge.
Roxy.
"Hi," I say dryly. "Remember me? The person who risked her life for you?"
Her tail wags.
I squint up at her.
"Did you go get help," I ask, "or are you just here to judge me?"
She glances over her shoulder. Then back at me.
I hear more rustling behind her.The dog isn’t alone.
“Hello?” I call out again. “Is someone there?”
A man appears next to the dog, petting her head as he gazes down at me, taking in the situation while I takehimin.
The man is the human equivalent of a grizzly bear.
Even from down here, I can see that he’s tall, muscular, and broad through the shoulders. He’s wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing thick forearms. His hair is long and his beard is unkempt. He fits out here in the woods in a way that makes me suddenly aware of how much Idon't.
Hebelongshere. I belong at a desk with a stack of fresh highlighters.
Something tightens low in my stomach. I tell myself it's just relief at my imminent rescue, but it’s pureattraction.
“Hi,” I say meekly, attempting to stand up.
"Stop moving,” he barks.
I freeze, eyes popping open in terror.Is he going to attack me?
He swears under his breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he says gruffly, “But that edge won’t hold if you keep testing it like that.”
I take a deep breath and nod. "Okay. So, what do I do?”
His attention shifts, scanning the ground as he thinks. “Scoot as far away from the edge as you can and sit tight. I need to get some supplies. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”
“I’ll be back soon to get you out of there. I promise.” He pats the dog on the head. “Roxy, sit. Stay.”
As the man turns to leave, the dog sits. She disappears from view, except for her front paws, which hang over the edge of the ravine. Somehow, it’s comforting to know she’s there. I’m not totally alone.
The man is probably only gone for a few minutes, but it feels like hours before I hear his footsteps returning. He steps into view with a coil of rope over one shoulder and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He moves straight to a tree near the edge, starting to loop the rope around it. His hands are quick and sure. He wraps, pulls, checks the tension without looking like he has to think about it.
I watch his forearms work the knot. The flex and release of muscle under tanned skin.
Stop checking out the hot mountain man, Jenny.
"You do this a lot?" I call.
"No."