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A huge grin had accompanied the last words, and Emma glared at him as she fixed her helmet back in place and took the harness from Mark, adjusting it to her size before climbing into it and strapping in securely. She signalled to lift and up she went, reminding herself again she’d done it dozens of times, and that from what she’d seen of Marty he was an excellent pilot so would hold the aircraft in hover mode as still as he possibly could.
‘Okay?’ Dave called down to her as she rose above the trees.
‘Just fine,’ she assured him, even venturing a small wave.
He helped her onto the skids, checked she was okay, then down she went, only too happy to be back on firm ground again.
‘Don’t unhitch, Marty wants you to do a patient lift.’ Dave’s voice came through the helmet communication and as everyone was listening she could hardly screech and yell about it.
Matt was handing Shane his helmet.
‘I’m lifting Shane?’ she couldn’t help but yell.
* * *
Matt laughed.
‘You’re not lifting him, the winch is,’ he reminded her, handing her the strop she would fit around the chest of this total stranger, before clipping him onto her harness. In this way, snapped together, they would be lifted off the ground.
Helmet to helmet, face to face, body to body.
And Shane had the hide to be grinning at her as if he was enjoying himself! It was like sharing a sleeping bag with a complete stranger, only worse because she knew all the crew would be laughing about it to themselves.
She checked all the clips and safety clasps were in place, then signalled with hand and voice that they were ready. Fortunately, their height difference—and Shane’s broad shoulders—ensured she was looking at his chin, not directly into his eyes. She shifted the helmet mic away from her mouth and muttered, ‘This is so embarrassing,’ but she doubted he heard as they were brushing past the foliage of the trees.
In fact, he was looking all around him, as if this was a wonderful experience, put on purely so he could see this little bit of his property from a different angle.
‘Lowering now.’
She sighed with relief at Mark’s order. Apparently, they didn’t have to go right into the aircraft for this lift either.
What she hadn’t realised was that Shane’s feet would touch the ground first, and he’d automatically put his hands out to steady her as she came down, holding her so close that embarrassment flooded through her.
Maybe the boys didn’t need a father, she decided when she’d unhooked, taken off her helmet, and moved a little away from the men so she could recover her composure.
Uncomfortable, that’s how she’d felt.
Uneasy, too…
But surely she wouldn’t feel like that with all men who touched her, no matter how platonically.
Besides which, the other part of her search for a man—what search?—had been to free up her father so he could have a life, because she knew full well he’d never leave her to cope with the boys on her own.
Considering how much he’d already given up for her, the very least she could do was look for a man.
And if she fell in love?
She looked around at the surrounding trees, aware deep inside herself she feared losing herself in love again, while knowing she couldn’t cheat a man by not offering it.
The practice continued, Matt and Mark lifting, the helicopter landing and Matt taking over as pilot while Dave and Marty practised.
Shane had settled beside Emma on a fallen log and had been regaling her with tales of bringing the young cattle in to be ear-tagged and, in the case of the young steers, castrated.
It all sounded particularly nasty to Emma, but Shane’s enthusiasm was so great she suspected he thought she was as fascinated as he was by the subject of cattle. He was telling a particularly grisly tale of having to use the tractor to haul a dead calf out of an exhausted cow when Marty called to her.
She leapt to her feet and hurried towards him, so thankful for the interruption she could have hugged him.
Until he told her why she was wanted.
‘Your turn to be the patient,’ he informed her, and as he was still in his harness she knew just who was going to do the lift.
Not that being held close against Marty meant any more than being held close against Shane…
Not really…
Of course it didn’t.
He was tightening the strop before dropping it over her head, tightening it again under her arms, clipping them together.
‘Okay?’ he said, his smiling face and teasing blue eyes so close they could have kissed.
Except their helmets would have bumped together and anyway she didn’t want to kiss Marty.
Definitely didn’t want to kiss Marty.
Marty was the last man on earth she should consider kissing…
