Good grief. Focus, Jenny.
"Almost there," he says. Roxy barks and he orders her to “sit” and “stay” again.
I reach the top edge, bellyflopping to safety and swinging my legs up behind me. Roxy barks and her tail smacks the ground, but she does as she’s been commanded, not moving from her spot.
I let go of the rope and take a breath. Then another. The man is on flat ground now too, untying the rope from the tree and re-coiling it.
"Thank you,” I say, rising to my feet.
Roxy looks at him, and he nods. She trots over to me happily, pressing into my leg.
I look down at her, petting her head. "You owe me an apology."
The man turns to stare at me. “I oweyouan apology? For what?”
I shake my head, heat flooding my cheeks. “Not you. Roxy.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“She was down by the river, barking. I thought she was in trouble, so I… well, I tried to help her.”
He chuckles, and the sound is rough. Like those particular vocal cords don’t get much use. “She’s a troublemaker, my Roxy.”
I brush off my hands and square my shoulders. “I’m Jenny.”
He coils the last of the rope. "Micah."
"Nice to meet you, Micah," I say. "And thanks again for the rescue mission. Truly.”
He looks at me for just a second, something unreadable in his expression. "No problem. But next time," he says, "just stay on the trail."
I huff out a laugh. "Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”
Chapter Three
Jenny
Westandtherefora beat after he finishes coiling the rope, like neither of us is in a hurry to move.
I clear my throat and glance toward the trail. It should feel easy now. Flat trail. Clear path. No bad decisions in progress.
And yet I'm aware of him. Standing there, watching to make sure I don't immediately wander off into another ravine.
“Well, I guess I should be getting home,” I say. “Thanks, again.”
His eyes meet mine, and now I can see they’re a striking baby blue. “Maybe I should walk with you.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, that I don’t need a babysitter, but instead I hear myself say, “Okay. Thanks.”
We fall into step beside each other. Or more accurately, I walk and he walks slightly behind and to the side.
It's noticeable, the width of him in my peripheral vision. The quiet, unhurried pace of him.
Roxy trots between us and the whole thing feels…nice.Like this mysterious mountain man, his dog, and I are aunit.We couldn’t be more different, and yet it feels right.
We walk a little farther. The trees thin slightly, and I recognize a bend in the trail near where it connects to the path behind my rental.
"Okay," I say, slowing. "I'm just off this way."