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“Jump into it.” Rhett stepped back, jumped into the rope, caught it, hooked his feet and stood. He was more than halfway to the tape. He dropped down and released the rope. When he stepped back, he was careful not to limp so she wouldn’t see it.
She eyed his leg suspiciously, but then turned back to the rope, drew another deep breath and jumped.
“Hook your feet! Now!”
Stanzi’s sneakers searched around the rope. Rhett stood nearby. The longer she took to grab it, the more tired her arms would get. She growled in frustration, ready to drop. Rhett steadied her hips, taking the bulk of the weight off her arms. “Grab it. Get as high as you can, as close to your hands as you can. Lean back.”
This time, Stanzi hooked her feet into a successful J-hook. Her back was against his chest, using him for support. Her sweat smelled sweet. Flowery, but not overwhelming. The rosy smell made him think of Christmas Eve, and how she’d looked in that blue dress.
“Now stand up,” Rhett ordered. “Stand up on the rope.” He moved away, not just to leave her to her own devices, but to avoid the unusual arousal that was rolling through him.
Stanzi rose up, straightening her legs with a grunt.
“Good,” Rhett said. “That’s one step. Now take another.”
Stanzi hung there, flailing.
“Don’t let go,” Rhett said. “Lean back, move your feet and hook again, as high up as you can manage. Don’t think about it, just do it.”
She slid her feet up the rope, trying to hook it. She struggled and made a desperate, angry noise, but eventually got her feet secured.
“Stand up!”
Stanzi obeyed, and her body was now just shy of where she needed to be to touch that tape with an outstretched arm.
“You’re almost there.” Rhett stood beneath her, in case she panicked and let go. He wasn’t afraid she’d fall, but she might shred her hands bailing down the rope. “One more hook, stand up and touch the tape! Let’s go!”
Stanzi’s feet flailed again. She growled in frustration as her face flushed with her struggle. Her hands slipped a little, but she held on, stopping her slide.
“Don’t you dare give up,” Rhett ordered. He planted his hands on his hips and stared up at her. “Who’s it going to be, Stanzi? You, or the rope? Only one of you is going to win this war.”
She let out a roar of frustration, her biceps bulging as she clung to the rope like it dangled over an alligator pit.
“You let go of that rope and I’m going to make you change that shirt before you work out.” Rhett circled around, ready to minimize her damage if she dropped, but he stood a foot away.
Her cheeks got so pink it looked like she was wearing rouge, but Stanzi finally hooked her feet. She stood up, reached and her fingertips tapped a good six inches above the tape line.
“That’s it!” Rhett barked. “You did it! C’mon, now, don’t celebrate yet. Scale down slow. Don’t let go and don’t slide. Ease on back down.”
Stanzi rappelled as slowly as she could, but slid a little bit. Near the bottom, she jumped off and bent in half, hands on her knees, breath heavy and hard. She had a rope burn on her left shin and inside her right thigh, but when she raised her head, she beamed from ear to ear. She sighed and sank into a sumo squat.
Rhett stopped in front of her and held out a hand. “Nice work, Stanzi.”
She peeked up at him and accepted his high five with a sweaty smack. “I didn’t do it all myself,” she said. “You helped steady me for that first hook.”
Rhett shrugged. “All I did was help you make the first step. Now your body knows what it should feel like and you can do it easier, when you’re not tired.”
She nodded, her breath winding down as she gingerly poked at the burn on her shin.
“Clean that off before the workout. So you don’t get cellulitis. The ropes are nasty.”
Stanzi looked up, like she might say something, but her gaze went past him, toward the front door.
Rhett turned. There, just inside the entrance, waving one hand and holding up his hoodie in the other...
Katrina.
