Chapter 1 #3
Eden crossed the room. The other rangers noticed her approach and fell silent, expressions shifting from excitement to wariness.
Good.
“We need to talk.” She ignored the stares. “Now.”
Teague’s grin faded. She stepped close enough to see the scrape along his jaw, the red dust in his beard stubble. To smell chalk and sweat and faint cedar aftershave. Close enough to see the pulse jumping at the base of his throat.
Focus, Garrison. You’re supposed to be furious.
“Sure.” He tucked his phone away. “What’s on your mind?”
“What’s on my—” She stopped. Took a breath. “You leaped eight feet without adequate protection. That’s what’s on my mind.”
“After jumping, I think it was closer to seven feet.” He held up a finger.
“Oh, well, in that case.” She crossed her arms. “Practically a little hop.”
His mouth twitched. “Was that sarcasm, Garrison? From you?”
“I’m serious.”
“Clearly.” Those green eyes sparked with something that looked annoyingly like amusement. “Look, I get that you’re upset—”
“I’m not upset. I’m professionally concerned about your flagrant disregard for safety protocols.”
“Professionally concerned.” He leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, matching her posture. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what it is.”
“Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’re upset.”
Heat crawled up her neck. “The climber—Tim—was in a precarious position, yes. But we have procedures. Protocols that exist because they keep our rangers alive.”
“Tim wasn’t going to last.” Teague’s voice lost some of its teasing edge. “Another few minutes and he’d have been gone.”
“Or we might have gotten him down safely with proper equipment. We’ll never know, because you decided your judgment was more important than the team’s safety protocols.”
“I decided a human life was more important than waiting for permission.”
She stepped closer. “You decided his life was more important than yours.”
Something flickered in his expression. For a moment, the cocky facade cracked, and she glimpsed something raw beneath.
Then he recovered, that half smile returning. “Aw, Garrison. Didn’t know you cared about me.”
“I don’t.” The words came too fast. “I care about setting precedents. What happens when some rookie tries to replicate your little stunt and doesn’t stick the landing?”
“My little stunt saved a kid’s life.”
“Your little stunt could have ended yours.”
“But it didn’t.”
“But it could have.”
They were too close now. She could feel heat radiating off him, see the individual flecks of gold in his green eyes. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the scrape.
“You know what I think?” His voice dropped, low enough that only she could hear. “I don’t think you’re mad about protocols.”
“Oh? Enlighten me.”
“I think you’re mad because you were trapped behind a desk where you couldn’t help. Because you had to listen instead of being out on that rock face making decisions.”
The words hit like a fist to the sternum.
Because he was right. And she hated that he was right.
“Don’t pretend you know me,” she said quietly.
“I don’t.” He held her gaze. “But I know what a caged climber looks like. A few weeks back, when you helped me out of that jam. You revealed how much you know about climbing and I put two and two together.”
Before she could respond, Liam dropped his arm on Teague’s shoulders, tugged him slightly backward. “Maybe we should all debrief together. As a team.”
Eden lifted her chin. “A debrief is exactly what we need. Starting with acceptable risk versus reckless endangerment.”
Anya’s eyebrows shot up, her raven hair framing her wide blue eyes. “Reckless? He saved someone’s life.”
Eden squared her shoulders again. “He could have died doing it. It was rash.”
“Effective,” someone muttered from the back.
Oh, thanks for that, Peanut Gallery.
Teague’s voice gentled. “Eden. Tim is alive. That’s what matters.”
“What matters is that we don’t set a precedent where—”
“Yeah, I heard the speech.” He stepped past her, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed hers, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “And I’d make the same call again.”
Which was exactly why she couldn’t let herself fall for him.
She spun. “We’re not finished.”
“Yeah.” He dropped into an empty chair near the front, not looking back. “We are.”
Dismissed.
Eden stood frozen, pulse pounding. The other rangers settled into their seats. No one looked at her anymore. The moment had passed.
She’d failed. Failed to make him see the danger. Failed to maintain any semblance of control.
The door at the far end of the room clicked open.
Superintendent Virgil walked in, pale-gray hair cropped military short, weathered face grim. More than grim—haunted. Deep shadows carved the hollows beneath his eyes.
Something cold slid through Eden’s chest. She’d never seen him look like this.
“Thank you all for coming.” Virgil’s knuckles went white on the podium. “I’m glad the rescue was successful. But I have difficult news.”
Eden slipped into the nearest chair.
“Due to the escalating situation with treasure hunters and our inability to safely manage operations, the decision has been made to close significant portions of the park, including the entire North Rim Campground.”
Murmurs rippled through the room.
“Effective immediately.”
The words hit Eden’s chest like a physical blow. The air rushed from her lungs.