Page 17 of Swept for Forever
“Lulu? Lulu!”
This time, she wasn’t barking alone.
I could hear a voice. Aman’svoice.
“Hey, you okay?” The words echoed down from high above, bouncing off the ridge like a thrown stone.
Lulu bounded back into view and scrambled to my side, her tail wagging.
I whispered, “Tell me you didn’t just bring another problem.”
She licked my face.
Not helpful.
I peered up.
The man stood at the top of the slope, framed against the sun, a solid silhouette—tall and broad-shouldered with a tapered waist. He was built like someone who got things done. And I didn’t mean burying something in the wild and shooting an eyewitness. There was no awkward posture.
Definitely not Stiff-Neck.
“I’m coming down,” he said.
Oh yeah. That was the voice of a hero. Lulu had found someone capable.
“Good dog, Lulu. Good dog,” I rasped, not even sure the words made sense anymore. But she wagged harder and pressed close, whining near my face.
Up above, the man scanned the slope, then dropped his pack beside him.
Smart. I should’ve done that. Instead, I’d gone down with my entire pack. Real genius move.
Then I caught flashes of movement. His arms were working, shifting things around. The calm in his pace told me this wasn’t his first time pulling someone out of trouble.
My tension eased just a fraction.
I couldn’t see much of him now, just his silhouette shifting between the trees. Then, a rope slithered down beside him, uncoiling fast. He crouched again and did something with his hands. Anchoring it, maybe. I couldn’t tell from here as I just saw glimpses of motion.
Whatever he was doing, he’d come prepared.
Thank God.
Soon, my rescuer came into view. He crouched as best hecould, his boots angled wide for balance, one hand braced against the hillside. Sitting wasn’t even an option. It was that steep.
What the hell had I been thinking?
This wasn’t a slope. It was a slide waiting to happen.
Yeah, I’d misjudged it. Badly.
“Water, please?” I croaked.
A flash of worry crossed his face. Perhaps he could tell that every part of me was seconds from shorting out. He unscrewed the cap of his bottle and leaned in, one hand braced into the slope beside me. I was still face-down, awkward and hurting, and he took a second to figure it out.
He poured a small amount into the bottle cap and carefully slid his fingers under my chin. “Gonna help you drink, all right?”
His hands were rough but careful, and his touch was all control. He tilted my face just enough for the water to reach my lips.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Tiny sips.”
