Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
I gave him a flat look. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I fall on my face,” I grumbled.
I was pretty sure his mouth might have twisted a little as he stood up. Rhodes gave me a single nod for sure though. “Let’s go, I’ll walk you down and get you cleaned up.”
“You will?”
He slanted me a look before picking up his trekking poles and backpack, slipping the straps on, then maneuvering the two sticks through crisscrossing cords on his back, leaving his arms free. Finally aiming his body back up the trail toward me, he held out his hand.
I hesitated but set my forearm into his open palm, and I watched as some emotion I didn’t initially recognize slid over his face.
“I meant your backpack, angel. I’ll take it for you. The trail’s not wide enough for both of us to go down at the same time,” he said, his voice sounding oddly hoarse.
Maybe if I hadn’t been in so much pain, and been so damn cranky, I would’ve been embarrassed. But I wasn’t, so I nodded, shrugged, and gingerly tried to take my backpack off. Luckily, I just started to shimmy a strap off when I felt the weight leave my shoulders as he tugged it away.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive” was all he replied with. “Come on. We’ve got half an hour to get back to the trailhead.”
My whole body slumped. “Half an hour?” I’d thought I had . . . ten minutes max.
My landlord pressed his lips together and nodded.
Was he trying not to laugh? I wasn’t sure because he turned around and started heading down the path ahead of me. But I was pretty sure I saw his shoulders shaking a little.
“Let me know when you want water” was one of the only two things he said on the way down.
The other being “Are you humming what I think you’re humming?”
And me replying with “Yes.”
“Big Girls Don’t Cry.” I had no shame.
I tripped twice, and he turned around both times, but I gave him a tight smile and acted like nothing had happened.
Like he predicted, thirty minutes later, when I was basically wheezing and he was acting like this was a stroll down a paved path, I spotted the parking lot and almost cried.
We’d made it.
I’d made it.
And my hands hurt even worse from how dry the cuts were, and my elbows felt the same way, and I was sure my knees would too, but their joints were so bad, they didn’t have room to wonder about any other pain.
But just as I started heading toward my car, Rhodes slipped his fingers around my biceps and steered me toward his work truck. He didn’t say another word as he unlocked it and dropped the tailgate, shooting me a look over his shoulder as he patted it briefly before heading around to the passenger door.
I went straight for the tailgate and eyed it, trying to figure out how to sit on it without using my hands to boost myself up.
That was how he found me: staring at it and trying to decide if I went face-first and shimmied up on my stomach, I could wiggle around and sit up on my butt eventually.
“I’m trying to figure out how to—okay.”
He scooped me up, one arm under the backs of my knees, the other around my lower back, and planted me on the truck. In a sitting position. Like it was no big deal. I smiled at him.
“Thanks.” I would’ve figured it out, but it was the thought that counted.
It didn’t change the fact he was confusing, but I wasn’t going to pick at that thought any longer. I still hadn’t moved past him calling me beautiful. I probably wouldn’t.
From under his arm though, he set a red kit beside my hip. Wordlessly, those big hands went straight for my foot, and I watched as he undid the lace and tugged the boot off by the heel as I said, “Hold your breath. I’ve been sweating, and I’d like to think my feet don’t smell, but they might.”
That gaze flicked up for a second, and he lowered it again before doing the same to my other boot.
I sighed in relief. Man, did that feel good. I wiggled my poor, tormented toes and sighed again just as he started rolling my pant leg up, stopping the fold just above my knee. His hands were gentle as they did the same to the knee that hadn’t totally torn.
And I watched, silently, as his palm cupped my calf and he extended my leg, the side of it pressing against his hip. He tilted his head and examined it some more before doing the same to the other. He had just started digging through his case when I asked, “Whatcha doing here?”
He didn’t look over as he pulled a couple packets out and set them on top of my thigh.