Page 3 of Rugged Courage

Her eyes flash with indignation. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “But these animals are unpredictable. When I got the distress call, I expected to find remains, not a live person.”

She blanches but quickly recovers. “That’s...graphic. But I’m still fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself to stay professional. “It’s not about babysitting. It’s about safety. I’m trained to handle these situations. You’re not.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my training,” she snaps.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I concede. “But I’d like to think you wouldn’t camp out in an unprotected space, knowing that multiple mountain lions were sighted up here recently. I know these mountains, and I know the dangers. I’m staying, at least for tonight. We can hike out together in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. I can see the internal struggle playing out on her face. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. One night. But don’t hover over me.”

I nod in relief. “Fair enough. What’s your name?”

“Cecelia Charles. Cece,” she says, her tone still cool.

We fall into an awkward silence as we realize we need to figure out sleeping arrangements. Cece gestures to her small tent. “My tent is only big enough for me. You’ll have to sleep out here.”

“That’s fine,” I say quickly. “I have a sleeping bag.”

As I unpack my backpack, I watch Cece as she moves around her campsite with practiced ease, tending to her fire. She intrigues me despite her prickly attitude, or maybe because of it. It’s a long time since a woman has gotten under my skin like this. I admire her independence, coming out here on her own, but I’m frustrated that she didn’t check the alerts about the area. If she had, she would have known about the mountain lion sightings.

Still, it’s clear she’s comfortable out here and knows what she’s doing, which I respect.

I sit, still a little irritated. “You know, accepting help doesn’t make you weak.”

She pauses, then turns to face me. “And offering help doesn’t make you a hero. I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“No, you didn’t,” I agree. “But I am here, and we’re stuck with each other for the night. We might as well make the most of it.”

“So,” Cece says. “How long have you been a tracker?”

I’m surprised by the question but grateful for the attempt at conversation. “Officially? About a year. Unofficially, my dad taught me when I was a boy.”

She nods, looking thoughtful. “And before the last year?”

I tense, memories of my time in the Army flashing through my mind. “I was in the Army,” I say shortly.

She must sense my reluctance to elaborate because she doesn’t push. Instead, she asks, “Do you like it? Living out here?”

I relax a bit, grateful for the change in subject. “Yeah, I do. It’s peaceful out here. Most of the time, anyway.”

She smiles slightly at that. “Until you have to rescue helpless hikers?”

I laugh. “You’re hardly helpless. Stubborn as hell, maybe, but not helpless.”

Her smile widens, and the tension between us eases for a moment. Then she seems to catch herself, and the smile fades. “Well, thank you for coming to check on me, even if it wasn’t necessary.”

I nod, wishing I could bring that smile back. “It’s my job. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and a jolt of electricity runs through me. Her eyes are deep and searching, and I find myself wanting a lot more than a little fireside chitchat.

Finally, she clears her throat and looks away. “We should probably get some sleep. I assume you want to head out early, right?”

I nod, ignoring the overwhelming desire coursing through my body. “Right. I’ll take the first watch.”

Cece disappears into her tent, leaving me alone by the sputtering fire. I settle back, staring into the flames, my mind racing.

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