Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Jack takes the lead as we walk in silence for what feels like forever.
Every time a question pops into my mind, the image of his flexed hand overrides it.
And now I feel bad for basically forcing him to make physical contact with me so often.
Talk about misreading a situation. My brain has been stuck in flirty mode; meanwhile, the man cringes every time we touch.
My inability to do something as simple as not falling over is an annoying reminder that I’m out of my element and ill prepared. Juliet would be half way done with this hike already. Marigold is killing me, and I’m worried that I stink. People who hike shouldn’t be concerned about odor.
I will get through this.
It feels like we’ve reached the very lowest point of the valley as we come to a tunnel the height and width of a doorframe, carved right through the rock like an entrance to another world.
It’s long enough that I can’t see any light coming from the other end, but Jack walks in without even hesitating.
This is probably a bad time to announce that I’m the teensiest bit petrified of caves. And this feels very cave adjacent.
I’m a big girl. I can do this. It’s not a cave.
Repeating this over and over doesn’t ease my rising panic when I’m completely blinded a few feet in. My eyes aren’t adjusting to the lack of light.
The air is stuffy. No wind.
Where is the air?
My hands once again grope around for the sides of the rock, but intrusive thoughts of spiders making their cozy homes within the crevices in this pitch-black tunnel and images of Frodo, pasty white and wrapped in webs, invade my mind.
Pebbles crunch as someone approaches, but it’s impossible to tell which direction it’s coming from. My breathing begins to quicken.
Spinning around was a bad idea.
“J-Jack?” I stammer, sensing someone nearby.
The next thing I know, Marigold is yanked, sending me crashing into the hard rock wall. Pain slices into my cheek.
“Jack!” This time I shout his name, my head swimming in confusion.
“Willow?” Jack’s voice answers from too far away.
I’m shoved into the wall again, but manage to brace the impact with my hands. All I hear is shuffling of footsteps and heavy breathing. Someone runs.
“Willow!”
“I’m here. I—”
“Hey!” Jack shouts, probably encountering the same rude person who bulldozed past me.
The darkness continues to mock me, refusing to let my eyes adjust. A tiny creature with a jackhammer sits in my brain.
“Jack, I don’t feel so good,” I announce, trying to be conversational but also praying he hasn’t left me alone to go after the ding-dong who pushed me.
“Hello?” I yell, unable to keep my voice from sounding frantic. Activate panic mode.
“I’m here, Willow.” Jack’s voice soothes me, as do his hands as he places them gently over my arms. He moves them up to grip my shoulders, then one hand continues to cup my jaw. My heart pounds heavily in my ears.
“S-someone shoved me,” I croak, feeling the need to defend myself.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
And then he pulls me into his chest, my ear fitting perfectly against his heart.
The galloping thuds make my insides all gooey and warm.
There’s no way a man of his profession, of his size and fitness, was frazzled by what just happened.
This fast-paced thumping is a clue that he was worried about me.
That knowledge is like catnip, and I’m devouring it.
Just as the thought of nuzzling closer hits, I recall his confession from earlier, making me straighten.
His silhouette is barely visible as my eyes decide to function, but I still don’t let go.
He may not like being touched, but I’m two seconds away from hyperventilating, so I settle for gripping the free-hanging strap of his backpack instead, needing the connection.
“Can you lead us out?” I ask meekly.
“Of course.” He begins to turn, but he pauses and reaches down to grasp my hand in his.
My protest dies on the tip of my lips as he swings around and guides us through the tunnel.
The entire thing is about ninety-feet long, but were it not for Jack’s steady hand holding mine, there is no doubt I would have turned right back around and hiked back to the South Rim.
Strike one, I guess. Or two, if you count almost falling off the ridge earlier. But this was an unexpected section of the trail, and the complete darkness triggered all my fight-or-flight reflexes, not to mention the jerk who tossed me into the wall.
The rays of sunshine visible at the end of the tunnel are a welcome sight, despite the pain they cause.
Less than two feet from the exit, the four-hundred-and-forty-foot-long Black Bridge spans across the glassy green Colorado River that murmurs consistently despite the state of anyone’s nerves.
The mid-morning sun beats down, bouncing harshly off the water, making me wince, increasing the dull ache behind my brow.
At the sound of my whimper, Jack cuts his eyes my way. He drops my hand, cautiously cupping my face again.
“You’re bleeding,” he grits out, tightness gripping his jaw. This dazed feeling isn’t from being slammed into a rock wall. It’s because of the man who confessed not too long ago that he doesn’t like being touched but is currently doing a whole lot of it…with me.
“There’s no place to sit here. We’ll cross the bridge, then I’ll have a closer look,” he says reassuringly. Then he inhales sharply, the pad of his thumb ghosting the curve of my cheek. “Give me your pack.”
“I’m good. I can carry it.”
“Willow.”
“Fine.” I give in, plopping Marigold on the floor. “But just ‘til we cross the bridge. And only because your muscles look a little bored.”
Those sharp cheekbones become more pronounced, a tiny glint in his eyes before he whips himself around, stomping across the bridge. He’s like a child, determined to stay mad, except his version of mad is being gruff and grumpy with a ten-foot spiked wall around his heart.
My feet are still slightly unsteady as we cross, but I don’t say a word, not wanting Jack to get any ideas about sending me home. I have to carry on.
Crossing the river feels like being led farther into an elaborate trap, the mountains inspecting all those who wander deeper.
Even though the temperature is over one hundred degrees, a shudder runs through me at the thought of being out in the canyon at night, like a snack waiting to be feasted upon.
It’s so much easier walking without Marigold pulling my shoulders down. We reach the other side, and Jack leads me to a shaded area against the rockface, nestled among trees whose shriveled limbs appear as if they’re begging for a dip in the river.
“I’m going to refill our waters. Be back in a minute,” Jack declares while removing the hydration packs from each of our bags.
My head still aches, but thankfully, the dizziness has subsided enough to keep me from feeling nauseous. I lean back, closing my eyes while the warm wind puffs mercilessly across my face.
The stillness drags a replay of the tunnel encounter through my mind. What the heck was up with that? Surely, it wouldn’t have anything to do with what Jack is investigating...right?
I retrieve a protein bar from Marigold, closing my eyes as I chew and wondering whether I’m tired because of the physical exhaustion and my distant relationship with cardio, or if this is a concussion symptom.
A rustling has me blinking my eyes open to find a squirrel perched on a rock two feet from where I’m reclining.
It scratches around, then lifts its gaze my way.
“You don’t think the thing in my backpack is connected to Jack’s investigation, do you?”
The squirrel tilts its head before hopping off its rock to scurry up a tree, stopping to leer at me admonishingly.
I pout, turning away from those beady little eyes. “I’m not telling him about the weird thing I found inside Marigold earlier if that’s what you meant. He’ll only see it as evidence that I’m guilty. And I don’t even know if you can sew me a dress or mop my floors, so why should I listen to you?”
He jumps from his branch, making his way back to the spot beside me. I’m calling it a he, because a woman would understand not offering up possibly incriminating information when trying to get on the good side of a hunky man.
His bushy little tail curls arrogantly. Ears that make him look like he’s been electrocuted turn my way, his smug eyes burrowing into mine again. My shoulders pivot so my body faces his, holding his gaze.
“Are you in a stare off…with a squirrel?” Jack ventures when he appears like a referee to the side.
The squirrel blinks, hopping off its rock.
“Ha!” I smile triumphantly before flinching when the lift of my cheek causes a sting.
Jack curses under his breath, handing me my water before turning to dig in his bag.
I take greedy gulps while he fishes out a first aid kit and pulls on a pair of gloves.
He sits on the rock next to me, gently pushing my knees so I’m facing him.
I follow his prompts through a series of exercises to rule out a concussion, then he opens the first aid kit.
“This might sting.”
Probably, but I’m currently living out every woman’s he takes care of her dream, so I will shut my mouth and bear it. Turns out it does sting, but watching those brows of his lower when I can’t hide another wince is like chocolate drizzle on ice-cream.
Gruff man hates that I’m in pain. Take me now.
I don’t even know what he’s doing to my cheek, but he’s being incredibly gentle.
“What happened in the tunnel?”
And, bubble popped.
“I don’t know…It got dark, and I freaked out.
I don’t like caves. And I know that wasn’t an actual cave, but my brain didn’t get the memo.
” I track Jack’s hands as they swab my cheek.
“I heard footsteps. I thought it was you, but they were lighter. Then someone was yanking at my backpack. When they heard you calling, they shoved me.”
A low growl rumbles in his chest, sending a shiver down my back. That sound should be patented.
“Did you see them?” I ask after snapping out of my grunt-induced coma.
“No. They shoved past. I was worried about getting to you…”
Swoon activated. It’s a good thing I’m already seated.
Jack places cotton and bits of trash from the first aid kit into a small ziplock bag, then gives me a look layered with suspicion.
“Have you noticed anything weird since you arrived?”
Tell him…
A scratching noise has our eyes darting toward the squirrel that’s currently clawing its accusing little paw at Marigold.
“No!” I scowl at the squirrel with gritted teeth. “We talked about this.”
“Do you and the squirrel need a moment?” Jack asks dryly.
“Nope, it’s nothing. I mean, I haven’t noticed anything.”
Except for someone trying to open my hotel room door.
Frik. That definitely fits into the weird category.
But it’s fine. If anything else weird happens, I’ll think about confessing. But Jack needs time to get to know me. I heard the suspicion in his tone—he’s still not convinced of my innocence. The evidence doesn’t exactly look good.
“Who’s to say what classifies as weird anyway?
What exactly defines weird? The second day after hair-wash day is always weird, especially if you’ve slept with a hair tie.
It’s all a mystery, I suppose.” I force a laugh, dusting my hands after standing.
“We should probably get going, though, right? The sooner we get to the campsite, the sooner I can rest. My head is kinda killing me.”
His eyes narrow, confirming my decision. The man still doesn’t trust me. “I can walk you back up to the rim. You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re injured.”
“No!” I blurt out. “I’m finishing this hike. I have to.”
His jaw clenches before he nods and lifts Marigold like she weighs nothing. Darn muscles. If I didn’t have a fear of Madonna arms, I’d consider beefing up my biceps at the gym, because I’m realizing how weak my little noodle limbs are.
Jack holds the straps so I can slide my arms through. I buckle the waist before lifting my eyes to him.
“Thank you. For this.” I gesture to my cheek. Another nod before he hands me a small blister pack of tablets.
“Ibuprofen.”
A soft smile jots across my lips. I’ll win him over. He’s just too delicious to let go.