Freefall. Jill Sorenson

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СКАЧАТЬ make camp under that tree, away from the trail,” he said, pointing to a more secure location.

      “If we push, we could reach Kaweah by midnight.”

      “You’re exhausted.”

      She couldn’t deny it. “I’ll be fine.”

      “You’ll be unconscious in another mile.”

      “Okay, He-Man,” she shot back. “Clearly you never get tired, so you can go on ahead without me if my company offends you so much. I’ll catch up tomorrow.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The stress and muscle strain had really done a number on her. All of the hurt she’d bottled up inside had risen to the surface.

      She was usually more upbeat.

      “I’m tired,” he said, walking away from the trail and removing the tent from his backpack. He didn’t bother to deny that he found her company offensive. She followed him, finding another rock to sit on. With a heavy sigh, she stared into the distance, determined to enjoy the play of light in the clouds as the sun dipped below the horizon.

      The next thing she knew, it was full dark, and he was shoving a tin cup into her hands. She must have dozed off.

      “Drink,” he said.

      It was chicken noodle soup from a freeze-dried packet. He molded his hands over hers as she took a tentative sip. The liquid was hot and tasty, reviving her senses. She drank half the cup before he moved away, trusting her to finish it herself.

      “Thank you,” she said.

      He grunted a dismissal and made another cup of soup. While she was sleeping, he’d set up the tent under a tree and built a small fire.

      “How long was I out?”

      “Ten minutes.”

      She drained her cup, suddenly ravenous.

      “You should drink some water, too.”

      Hope did as she was told, because dehydration was no joke, and she was showing signs of serious fatigue. When she’d stopped moving, her body had shut down. Her core temperature had also dropped considerably. She was cold.

      They shared several packets of soup, a powdered drink that tasted like hot Tang and a bag of roasted almonds.

      Once her hunger was satisfied, she became very sleepy again. She yawned behind her hand, catching his watchful gaze from across the campfire. He looked ready to point to the tent and order her to go to bed, like a dog.

      “Are you going to stay out here all night?” she asked.

      He poked a stick at the fire, contemplative. “No.”

      “I only brought one sleeping bag.”

      “You can have it.”

      “I’ll use my blanket.”

      He didn’t argue, so she took that as an agreement. She removed her shoes and crawled inside the tent, bringing the space blanket with her. It was a shallow, narrow space, designed to hold in heat. Once he joined her, they’d be like two sardines in a can. She zipped up the door and scooted to one side, leaving room for him. Then she wrapped her body in the crinkly, aluminum-sided blanket, rested her head on the crook of her arm and closed her eyes.

      Sleep was elusive because her mind wouldn’t rest. She couldn’t stop second-guessing her interactions with Sam. She’d replayed their night together a thousand times, wondering what had gone wrong. He didn’t seem like the type of man to discard a woman after one use. Well, three uses, but who was counting?

      He seemed even less like that type now. He was irritable and short-tempered, not deliberately cruel. A man without a heart wouldn’t follow her down the mountain or feel responsible for her safety. She knew why her presence made him uncomfortable: guilt. She reminded him of his worst behavior.

      She rolled onto her side, frustrated. He hadn’t planned to throw her out. She’d bet her Patagonia backpack on it. The action was too bizarre, too abrupt.

      Another ugly suspicion reared its head. Obviously, he liked her looks, or he wouldn’t have taken her home with him. Her personality wasn’t a major consideration—they hadn’t done much talking. And she’d never been more responsive or uninhibited, so he couldn’t fault her sexual performance.

      What did that leave? Her body.

      Hope had a nice enough figure. She was strong, but naturally slender, with curvy hips and small breasts. Although she hadn’t stripped in front of a man in years, she’d felt no attacks of shyness that night. He certainly hadn’t voiced any complaints. She’d been tipsy, and he’d been downright drunk. His eyes had darkened with appreciation when he saw her naked. If she remembered correctly, he’d kissed her all over.

      But maybe, during that final session of foreplay, when he’d gotten up close and personal with her private parts, he’d noticed the marks on her lower abdomen.

      Her biggest flaw. Her darkest secret.

      This was why she never slept with strangers. She didn’t want to explain the telltale signs of pregnancy. The story was too painful to share with a casual acquaintance. Sometimes it was too heavy for a steady boyfriend.

      Sam hadn’t said anything, so she didn’t know if the sight had triggered him.

      Hope smoothed a hand over her flat stomach and blinked back the tears of remorse, pressing her lips together tightly.

      She didn’t want him to hear her cry.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      HOPE AWOKE WITH a start.

      She’d been dreaming about falling. It was a repeat of yesterday’s close call on Angel Wings. Only this time, her harness hadn’t held. The nylon had snapped, sending her hurtling toward the ground, her arms and legs flailing.

      The nightmare faded and she let out a slow breath, trying to orient herself. She was in a single-man tent. With Sam.

      He hadn’t kept his distance; it was impossible in the cramped space. He also hadn’t kept his sleeping bag to himself. The thick, down-filled fabric covered them both, so he must have unzipped it to share with her. Underneath that layer, she had the safety blanket, which wasn’t big enough for two.

      She felt cozy, insulated from the chilly morning air. And a little guilty, because he’d put her comfort above his own.

      They’d been sleeping spoon-style, with her back to his front. Her head was pillowed on the crook of his right arm. His left was locked around her waist in a manner that could only be called possessive.

      He stirred behind her, mumbling something in his sleep. His lips brushed against the nape of her neck.

      She’d always melted when a man kissed her there. Sam had paid special attention to this erogenous zone during round two on that ill-fated night. He’d dragged his open mouth all the way down her tingling spine.

      Hope СКАЧАТЬ