Chapter 3
Rhylee
The steady crunch of Tucker”s boots against the leafy trail fills the silence between us as we press deeper into the wilderness. My own steps falter more frequently, boots snagging on gnarled roots or loose pebbles that send me stumbling. But I refuse to voice any complaints.
Not after the disastrous ravine incident. Tucker hasn”t said a word since his gruff command for me to get my ”shit together,” but the stormy tension radiating off him speaks volumes. I can still feel the ghost of his powerful arms around me, the scorching heat of his hard body pressed against my curves.
And even more disconcerting, the dizzying rush of desire that had surged through me at our proximity.
My face warms at the memory, and I quickly push it aside, clearing my throat. ”So, how long have you lived out here?”
A muscle ticks in Tucker”s clenched jaw, but he doesn”t break stride, keeping his eyes trained forward. ”Born and raised.”
When he doesn”t elaborate, I prompt him further. ”In the mountains?”
”My folks were mountain folk through and through.” A wistful note creeps into his deep rasp. ”Dad was a legendary tracker, one of the last true wilderness guides still practicing the ancient ways of reading the land. Taught me everything I know about surviving in this harsh country.”
I find myself leaning in, captivated by the rare glimpse into his inner world. ”That must have been an incredible way to grow up.”
”Ain”t no other life I”d trade it for,” he rumbles. The hard planes of his face soften ever so slightly as he glances around at the towering evergreens surrounding us. ”Learned more wisdom from these hills than any classroom or book could ever teach.”
A strange pang tugs at my heart—a mixture of envy and longing for the kind of profound connection with nature that Tucker exudes from his very core. My own upbringing couldn”t have been more different, sheltered away in the sterile confines of urban academics.
”That”s an incredible gift,” I murmur.
He glances sidelong at me, those vivid hazel eyes glinting. ”Yeah, well, I reckon most folks”d find my way of life pretty primitive. Roughing it in the wilderness ain”t exactly a picnic.”
”Oh, I don”t doubt that for a second,” I assure him with a small laugh. ”I”m well aware of the harsh realities you face. But there”s also an undeniable beauty and wisdom to be gleaned from full immersion in the wild.”
Tucker grunts in grudging agreement but then holds up a hand. His head cocks to the side.
”You hear that?” he rumbles after a pregnant pause.
I strain my own senses but catch only the usual forest ambiance—the chirp of birds, the creak of towering pines swaying in the crisp breeze. Then it registers: the unmistakable rush and gurgle of flowing water up ahead.
”A stream? Or a river, perhaps?” My eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of fresh data to observe.
”Probably one of the feeder creeks that dumps into the main river basin.” Tucker nods, already adjusting our trajectory to veer toward the promising direction. ”Good chance we”ll find fresh tracks closer to the water source.”
He”s off at a brisk pace, and I hurry along in his wake, doing my best to match his long, purposeful strides. The dappled sunlight filtering through the verdant canopy dances in mesmerizing patterns across Tucker”s broad back and powerful shoulders as he moves with that same innate grace as the great predators we”re tracking.
We crest a small rise, and the scenery spreads out before us in a breathtaking vista. A frothy, swirling creek gushes over a jumble of moss-covered rocks and driftwood, the waters sparkling like liquid diamonds under the sun”s slanting rays.
The roar of the rushing current grows steadily louder as we carefully pick our way down the slope toward the waterway”s edge. Tucker moves with his usual confident, sure-footed grace, but I can”t help wincing at every wobbling misstep over the uneven, treacherous terrain.
”Watch your footing up here, Doc,” he calls over the burbling rush without glancing back. ”Wouldn”t want to take a spill into the drink.”
Gritting my teeth, I focus every ounce of concentration on not making a blundering fool of myself. The last thing I need is to reinforce his doubts about my ability to handle myself out here. Still, I can”t quite mask the occasional gasp or wobble that escapes.
We navigate the treacherous shoreline in tense silence, carefully skirting around jutting boulders and slippery mudflats. Until we round a sharp bend and the creek splits, the two frothing currents now separated by a slender land bridge of tumbled rocks and driftwood. My stomach drops at the prospect of having to cross the rushing torrent.
”Well, shit,” Tucker growls, raking a hand through his hair as he takes in the obstacle.
My eyes track the narrow path of stones, already envisioning the myriad ways I”ll likely end up taking an icy dunking if I attempt to traverse it. ”Is there, uh... perhaps an alternate route we could—”
”Nah, this is the only way across,” he cuts me off, shaking his head as he steps up onto the precarious bridge. The jumble of rocks shifts and settles treacherously under his weight, but Tucker doesn”t even break stride. ”Just stay close behind me and mind every step. I”ll get you over safe.”
With that gruff reassurance, he pivots to face me, holding out one hand in a silent offer of assistance. I hesitate only a beat before reaching out to grasp it, trying to ignore the dizzying spark that zings up my arm at the contact.
Tucker”s rough grip is warm and sure as he carefully guides me up onto the unsteady path. The twin currents froth and churn on either side of us in a deafening roar, the mist of churning whitewater lashing my skin like icy needles.
”Don”t look down,” he rumbles, drawing my focus back to him. The hard planes of his face are set in a mask of intense concentration, those blazing eyes locked onto my own. ”Just keep your eyes on me and go slow.”
I give a jerky nod as we begin to carefully pick our way across the treacherous bridge. Every lurching step is punctuated by the thunderous rush of the creek and the precarious groan of shifting stones. My heart hammers against my ribs with each wobbling footfall.
About halfway across the narrow path, my boot catches on a submerged rock with a jarring thud. I can”t quite muffle the sharp cry as my body careens forward, arms wheeling wildly.
But Tucker moves with the same preternatural grace and quickness that allowed him to haul me back from the edge of that ravine earlier. In a blink, his free hand clamps around my bicep, steadying me before I can pitch headlong into the churning torrent.
”Whoa there,” he growls, the words vibrating against me as he hauls me to him. My hands splay across his chest as I fight for balance, fingers splayed wide, feeling the rapid staccato of his heart pounding beneath my palms.
Our bodies are flush, every tantalizing curve and hard plane molded together. My lips part on a trembling exhale, eyes locked onto the hard line of his jaw just inches away.
”Tucker...” The breathless whisper slips free of its own accord as my fingers splay wider, nails biting lightly into the bunched fabric of his thermal.
His gaze snaps to mine, those golden-brown depths blazing, and then he”s crashing into me like a riptide, his mouth slanting over mine in a searing, hungry kiss.
A whimper of relief escapes as I melt into him. My nails rake over the hard wall of his back in a desperate bid to pull him closer. Tucker growls against my lips, the rumbling vibration sending delirious shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through me. One palm spans the curve of my spine, searing through the thin flannel as he arches me into the unyielding line of his body.
I drown in the pure, untamed wildness of his kiss, of his scent and taste and touch. It”s like being swept up by the raging currents on either side, only to find myself buoyed in the safety and strength of an immovable force of nature itself.
When we finally break apart, chests heaving in ragged gasps, twin looks of shock and exhilaration chase across our flushed features. The roar of the creek rushes back in to fill the ringing silence.
A heavy pause stretches between us, loaded like a tripwire. I watch his jaw clench in a muscle-popping tic, feel his chest expand against mine on a deep inhale.
“We should keep going,” he finally says. “If we want to make camp before nightfall.”
I nod. “Yes, of course, you’re right.”
With a grunt, Tucker releases me and turns to continue across the final stretch of the makeshift bridge. My knees nearly buckle at the sudden loss of his solid weight against me, the world tilting dizzily.
I blink rapidly, struggling to get my riotous thoughts and rampant desire back under control as I move to follow in his wake. But my gaze keeps straying to the rigid set of his shoulders, the flex of those powerful muscles rippling beneath the worn thermal with every purposeful stride.
There”s no denying it now. The spark between us has officially been stoked into an inferno, a raging bonfire that could consume us both if we aren”t careful.
I shiver at the thought, my tongue darting out to skim my tingling lips and chase the lingering taste of Tucker”s kiss.
And I can”t wait to be burned alive.