Page 37 of Property of Rattler

I mock gasp. “You’re saying myhusbandbrought me to a hiking resort without trainers or walking boots?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling mywife.”

For some reason, we both find that funny. And when we catch each other's shared amusement on our faces, it makes it worse. He doubles up, clutching his belly, while I collapse in a fit of giggles.

When we finally stop laughing, I stand, a grin still curving my mouth. “Want a hand up?”

That his ankle is probably hurting more than he lets on shows when he gives in and holds out his hand. I take it, brace, and though he’s in danger of pulling me down, somehow I give him enough support to get him onto his feet. And when he grimaces as he puts weight on his injured leg, I relent and put my arm around him to help. Bracing ourselves against each other, we look like a couple in some kind of odd three-legged race as we slowly make our way back to the cabin.

He sighs heavily as we get inside, and I help him onto the couch. Then I go to the shed with the freezer and bring back a bag of frozen peas. He’s already removed his boot and has his foot up on the seat. I place the makeshift poultice over his ankle.

He glances up. “You wasting our food?”

I shrug. “I don’t like peas anyway.”

He chuckles softly. “Me neither.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RATTLER

Iwas so fucking angry when she got away from me, taking that trail like an athlete. I vowed I wasn’t going to let her get the better of me. Determined to catch her and teach her a lesson was at the top of my mind when my boots, which I’d already clocked as not being great for the terrain, betrayed me. I’d gone down hard, toppled right over the steep edge to the path, and, to add to the ignominy, my foot had gotten caught, leaving me hanging upside down.

As I’d lain there, relegated to shouting for help from the only person around for miles, I’d plotted the revenge I’d take out on her.

Somehow, while lying injured and starting to doubt she’d even return to help, my thoughts veered between knowing her safety depended on me staying alive and thinking that, as I’d been such an ass, I wouldn’t blame her if she walked away, leaving me in the predicament I’d gotten myself into. She’s certainly not the woman I’d expected her to be. Instead of being meek and cowed, she’s been standing up for herself, refusing to take my shit.

Where was the clumsy Ames that couldn’t carry a tray of beer? Nowhere to be seen as she raced up that mountain at ultra marathon speed and agility. And nowhere was the timid woman who annoyed the fuck out of me. As I lay there, ankle throbbing, quickly discovering that, however I twisted and writhed, I couldn’t get myself free, I remembered my trump card.She needs me.On her own, she’d stand no chance if her brother came calling. I don’t believe I’d seriously thought she’d leave me there to die, but just for a moment, it had crossed my mind.

But instead, she’d returned and saved me. Oh, of course, she’d had a good laugh at the position I was in, but hell, once I was out of it, I’d found it amusing myself. I’m just glad no one had been around to take a picture. And after getting me upright once again, without asking, she’d seen my need and answered it, helping me back to the cabin.

Now I’m lying on the couch, not wanting to move, my ankle a ball of agony. While I’d downplayed my injury to her, I already knew it wasn’t a slight twist that would magically right itself in a few hours.

When she left me alone, my conscience had pricked. I should be following her, making sure she wasn’t running again. But how could I control her, laid up as I am, other than tying her to my side?

I needn’t have worried. She hadn’t been out of my sight for long, and when she’d reappeared, it was with a bag of frozen peas to nurse my ankle. I had to yank her chain, but really, I couldn’t give a damn—I wasn’t going to eat them. As it turned out, neither was she.

Then she disappeared again, returning with a bottle of water in one hand and a beer in the other. “I’d say you need to rehydrate, but you’re a biker…”

“I’ll take the beer.”

Grinning, she passes it to me, along with a bottle opener, then goes back into the kitchen. No longer so worried she’s going to run, I listen to her pottering around. A little time passes until she walks back in, places a bowl of tomato soup and a plate of grilled cheese on the table next to me. She even helps me to get comfortable in a sitting position by placing a cushion behind me.

“You feeling guilty?” I raise a brow.

Her eyes widen. “What the fuck for?”

“If you hadn’t run, I wouldn’t have had to chase you, and well…” I break off and nod my head toward my ankle.

Unrepentant, she replies, “I didn’t ask you to run after me. I couldn’t stay cooped up here. I’d have gone stir-crazy.”

The soup’s come out of a can, nothing remarkable there. But the grilled cheese? It’s got a tang to it and seems particularly tasty. She must have added some secret ingredient to it. I wolf it down. Then I realise I’ve got something I need to do—check the camera feeds.

Maybe it’s because I was starving after the morning’s exploits and now satisfied by what she’s fed me, or maybe it’s a newfound sense of camaraderie nurtured when she helped me back to the cabin, but I find myself asking, “Can you hand me my laptop?” And then, when she passes it to me, I instruct, “Come here.” When she moves to kneel beside me, I balance the laptop on my stomach where we can both see it. Then I switch between the camera views, explaining where I’ve put them. And together we check the footage captured while we were gone to confirm no one had approached the cabin.

She listens carefully. Then, as we watch the live footage, we see a family of javelinas skirting the property.

“Oh my God.” She snorts, then covers her mouth with her hand. She’s laughing so hard that tears glisten in her eyes.