"That's comforting,” I mutter.
He pulls the knot tight and looks down at me.
"You ever use a rope like this?"
"No."
"Then listen."
"I'm good at listening."
He feeds the rope down toward me. "Grab it."
I do.
"Wrap it around your hand. Keep it tight."
I adjust my grip. "Okay. Now what?”
"I'm coming down partway," he says.
He starts down the slope. And he doesn't slip. Not once. Each step lands like he knows exactly where it should go, like this is an easy stroll in the park for him.
I tighten my hold on the rope and try not to stare.
He stops a few feet above me. "Give me your hand.”
I hesitate for just a second.What if he drops me?But somehow, deep in my soul, I know he won’t. I reach up and take his hand.
His grip is firm and steady, reassuring me that I’m safe with him.
"I’ve got you,” he says. "Just do what I say, okay?”
I nod. “Will do.”
"Right foot up first. Plant it firmly.”
Nodding, I do as I’m told.
"Now adjust your grip to be higher on the rope."
I adjust.
"Now push."
I push.
My foot slips.
"Oh—"
His hand tightens instantly, holding me in place. Just like that. No alarm, no wobble. "I've got you," he says. "Try again."
I nod and reset.
This time it works, and he pulls me up beside him. “Okay,” he says, “Now, you’re going to climb back up using the rope. I’ll be right behind you. If you slip, I’ll catch you.”
Step by step, we move up the slope. Slow and controlled, him right behind me. A small part of my brain wonders if he’s staring at my ass… and if he is, what does he think about it?