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"Hannah, go," Chloe said.
"I'm on it," Hannah replied. "I'll call 911 after I get Leo."
Chloe gripped the leg tighter, feeling the pull of gravity. She really did not want to fall any farther. Through the slats in the broken floor, she could see Hannah's dark-red hair.
"Leo, come here," she heard Hannah say, following up with, "Who are you?"
"Decker Hayes," a man replied. "I'm supposed to meet Chloe Morgan. Is that you?"
"No. Chloe is upstairs."
"Chloe is my mommy," Leo interrupted. "She's stuck in the ceiling."
"I can see that," the man said with humor in his voice. "Nice legs."
She flushed at the comment, thanking God she was wearing leggings and not a dress.
"I'm calling 911," Hannah said. "Come on, Leo. We're going to wait out front."
"Hang on. I can probably get her out without calling the fire department," Decker said. "Are you hurt?" he yelled.
"I'm fine," she shouted. "I just don't want my son to get hit by falling wood."
"They're going to wait outside," he replied. "I'm coming up."
She blew out a breath, not thrilled about that, but she'd rather have him try to help her than have the Whisper Lake Fire Department rescue her. That would be juicy gossip that would go around town for weeks.
A moment later, the man entered the bedroom, walking carefully across the room. He stopped a few feet away, a smile crossing his very attractive face. He was a tall man with thick brown hair and green eyes. He wore jeans and a navy sweater that clung to a very broad chest.
"I'm Decker Hayes," he said.
"I figured. Chloe Morgan. Do you think you can get me out?"
"I'll give it my best shot." He cautiously moved forward. "Can you let go of the dresser?"
She was a little reluctant to let go of the only thing preventing her from crashing through the floor. "And do what?" she asked.
"Grab my hand."
She looked at his now outstretched arm. "I don't know if you can pull me out."
"I can do it," he said confidently. "Trust me."
"I don't even know you."
"Joel does. You trust him, right?"
She really didn't know Joel that well, either, but this guy was his friend, and he would probably do everything he could not to drop her through the ceiling. Plus, she didn't have any other choice. "Okay." She took one hand off the leg of the dresser.
Decker's fingers wrapped around hers, his grip strong and warm, and she could feel the power in his body. His eyes met hers with encouragement. "I've got you," he said.
An odd, shivery feeling ran down her body at his words. It had been a long time since she'd felt like anyone had had her back. She'd been going it alone for so long. A rush of emotion made her eyes water, which was completely stupid. She could not cry now. She had enough problems.
Blinking the tears away, she said, "Okay. I'm letting go."
As she released her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her up and out of the broken floor. At the sound of more breaking wood, she scrambled to her knees, then to her feet, as he pulled her toward the doorway.
When they got into the hall, she looked back at the floor. A few more pieces of floor had fallen through the hole, making it another foot bigger. If he hadn't gotten her out of there when he had, she might have ended up in the dining room.
