Rescue My Heart (10 page)

“No.” She’d take a break when she was dead. Which at this pace might be by dinnertime. “We keep going.”

But after another few minutes, she was having her doubts whether she’d be with him at the end or not. She’d been doing a lot of sitting on her ass working at a desk lately. Too much. She needed to get back to some serious cardio. Not that she’d admit this since Adam’s long legs were eating up the distance with no trouble, though she suspected he was holding back a little bit on her account.

Milo reappeared every few minutes, checking in with Adam, the two of them interacting as if they were one.

“Anything?” she asked. “He catching anyone’s trail?”

“Deer. Wolves. Elk.” He shook his head. “Nothing human. Holly—”

“No,” she said, knowing what he was going to say. If her dad had come through here, there’d be signs. “Don’t tell me he’s not here.”

He gave her a steady look and didn’t tell her that. “You need water?”

“I’m fine.”

He turned to Milo next, carefully checking the dog’s paws, giving him water. Then they kept going, and Holly had an even harder time finding herself sexy in the mud-and-ice combo. Hard to be confident while feeling like a drowned rat.

Not that she cared about being sexy for Adam, not in the slightest.

Ten minutes later, they got to Diamond Ridge, the day camp area.

It was empty.

Milo ran through it, nose down, sniffing, searching, before coming back to Adam and sitting calmly.

“Nothing,” Adam said. “No sign of anyone.”

They searched for themselves, but Milo was right. Her dad wasn’t here. She felt Adam’s gaze on her, and met it. “Then he’s at Mount Eagle,” she said. “Or…”

“Or?”

“Maybe the caves at Kaniksu.”

Something flickered in his eyes, coming and going too fast to name. “The caves?”

“At Kaniksu, yes. He’s recently started going there, too.”

He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Call him again,” he said, waiting until she did just that.

She did, and got her dad’s voice mail message. “His phone’s still off.”

Or dead.

“Let’s move,” he said, bringing her thoughts back to something productive.

“Mount Eagle or Kaniksu?” she asked his back.

Adam dropped his chin to his chest and muttered something she didn’t catch before lifting his head. “Mount Eagle first.”

She nodded, and he gestured her ahead of him. “After you,” he said.

As she led the way back to where they’d left the ATV, she wondered if he was watching
her
ass this time.

At the ATV, Adam pulled out lunch. He had bagels, on which he squeezed peanut butter from a tube, then sprinkled raisins on top. He handed her one, meeting her startled gaze. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Except this seems so…domestic of you.”

“It’s carbs, protein, and sugars,” he said as if she’d insulted him. “Body fuel.”

“It is,” she agreed. “It’s also a little cute, at least compared to the bag of beef jerky I packed.”

He was far too good to scowl or frown at
cute
, but she could tell he was doing both on the inside. She watched him give Milo water and a doggy biscuit, his hand fondly ruffling the dog’s fur.

In response, Milo set his big head on Adam’s thigh and gazed up at him adoringly.

“He’s pretty darn cute, too,” Holly said.

Adam slid her a look. “What is it with you and cute?”

She wasn’t sure.
Hormones?
“There’s nothing wrong with cute, you know.”

“We’re
not
cute.”

Okay, that was probably true about Adam ninety-nine percent of the time. To the best of her recollection, there was very little cute about him. Sexy, yes. Cute…
no
. But then he gave Milo a full body rub that had the dog practically purring, and she had to revise. Maybe he had more than one percent cute in him.

“He was neglected before I got him,” Adam said, still stroking Milo. “He gets separation anxiety if he can’t sleep near me. He goes to Dell’s when I’m traveling and eats up Jade’s shoes like bonbons.”

“Aw, he misses you.”

“More like Dell’s a sap and lets him do whatever he wants.”

“Where did you get him?” Holly asked.

“When I first got stateside, my counselor wanted me to get a dog. It’s part of the therapy. I was working with dogs as a liaison between breeders and trainers and was in Arizona when I saw Milo for the first time. He was one of eight. I was supposed to take the entire litter. But the breeder refused to give me Milo, saying he was a liability. Apparently
he’d failed all early training attempts. The breeder was calling him Frat Boy, because Milo was always just looking for a good time. Said he was no good, would never amount to anything, and the possibility of him being an S&R dog was absolutely nil. He wouldn’t let me take him with the others because he was afraid I’d demand my money back down the road. Milo was slated for the Humane Society. Death row, of course.”

As if he could understand the words, Milo leaned up and licked Adam’s chin, and Holly felt twin tugs of amusement and something far deeper and harder to breathe past. “So how did you end up with him?” Holly asked.

“I said I’d make a deal for all eight or no deal at all.” He slung an arm around Milo, who leaned into him. “And the breeder was right. He was a complete Frat Boy.”

“And you what, dog-whispered him?”

Adam shook his head with a low laugh. “I’m not a dog whisperer. That implies some sort of extraordinary ability. I have a method with a curriculum. That’s all.”

“So you saved his life and kept him as your own.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well pawn him off on anyone.”

Milo gazed adoringly into Adam’s eyes, his own bright, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, which appeared to be tipped up into a smile.

Adam shook his head at the dog, but he smiled.

The guy didn’t fool Holly for one hot minute. He’d always been far more into animals than people, a product of growing up knowing that you weren’t wanted or particularly valued, she supposed. That he’d managed to grow up at all and not be a statistic was amazing, but that he was also a man to admire, even more so.

And if she was admitting that, she also had to admit he had a lot of really great qualities. Sure, he had more than his fair share of faults as well; he was intensely private and didn’t like to share himself, not to mention doggedly aggressive and bullheaded…But on the other side of all that,
he put others’ needs and safety ahead of his own, always. He was smart as hell, fiercely loyal, driven to succeed, and he had a deceptive playful side that she hadn’t seen in a long time but was catching glimpses of now with Milo. She popped her last bite of bagel in her mouth. “Want to know what I think?”

“No.”

She added obnoxious to his list of faults. “I think beneath that badass layer of testosterone and Neanderthal tendencies, you’re just a big old softie.”

He slid her a patented steely look. “Testosterone and Neanderthal tendencies?”

She shrugged and reached for her water. “If the shoe fits…”

He shook his head, but his eyes might have gleamed with the slightest bit of amusement as he did. “There’s a fault with your logic.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not soft. Anywhere.”

She choked on her water, which only got worse when he leaned in to pat her on the back. While she gasped for air and sputtered, he took the water and capped it for her. Then he held it back out to her, steady.

Definitely amused.

She snatched the bottle from his fingers, firmly ignoring the zap of attraction as she touched him, deciding it was static electricity. Unsure, and just a little shaken, she stood. “We need to get going.”

They headed to Mount Eagle, and thanks to the weather, it took nearly all of their remaining daylight hours, and the trek didn’t have a happy ending. The abandoned old ranger station that her father used as a hunting base when he was up here was just that—abandoned.

No one had been here in weeks, maybe longer.

Adam let out a breath and turned to Holly.

The wind was whipping, the snow falling lightly now.
He had his hood up, reflective glasses on, hands shoved in his pocket. With the daylight fading fast, leaving in its wake the hovering glow of dusk, he could have graced the cover of any magazine.

He took her breath. Oh God, she was stupid enough to let him take her breath.

“Hey,” Adam said, frowning as he dropped his pack and moved to her. “You okay?”

When would he get it—she was always okay. Although she did feel a little dizzy…

Adam tugged her pack off, keeping his hands on her arms.

Milo came close and whined softly, nudging his warm, wet nose into the palm of her hand.

“We moved fast,” Adam said, ducking a little to look into her eyes. “Really fast, at altitude. Sit a minute—”

“No.” She shook her head and patted Milo on the head. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. Be fine sitting down.” Adam pushed her to a rock in front of the shell of the ranger station and hunkered before her, hands on her thighs now, holding her in place, studying her face.

“It’s nothing,” she said, tipping her head up. A few snowflakes landed on her heated face. “I just got dizzy for a minute.”

“Stay still.”

Staying still was a great idea. Being this close to Adam, not so much. In fact, it was a really,
really
bad idea. The worst idea she’d had since…since that morning when she’d sneaked onto his ATV instead of finding another way to get here.

She looked off into the fading light rather than directly into his eyes. Looking directly into Adam’s eyes was always a problem. It caused a condition known as lust, which in turn caused its own condition.

Stupidity
.

She really hated this helpless attraction she had for him, especially since it wasn’t reciprocated. Never again. She was never again going to love a man who didn’t love her. From inside her pocket, her phone vibrated. Surprised that she even had reception up here, she pulled it out to find two texts, the first from Derek that was short and to the point.

Need to see you.

Ha. So he’d finally deigned to notice she was gone. He could “need to see her” all he wanted. She was over him and his needs.

Delete.

The second text was from Kate.

You okay?

This was debatable, but Holly typed back that she was fine, though there’d been no sign of her father yet.

Kate responded immediately.

Spending the night with the big, bad, stoic hottie?

Holly choked out a laugh. Adam leaned in and read the text before she could delete it. He went brows up and looked at her.

She shook her head. “Kate thinks she’s funny.”

“‘Hottie’?”

“Yes, it’s what people who look like you are called.”

“Thought I was cute,” Adam said.

“I’m rethinking that.”

Still hunkered before her, balanced on the balls of his feet, he rubbed a hand over his jaw. Once again, the stubble there made a rough noise that scraped at her insides low in her belly.

And lower.

“We’re not sleeping together,” she blurted out.

“I know.”

She felt…let down. How dumb was that? But damn, it would have been nice for him to reveal even the slightest bit of disappointment. Instead, he was back to his silent, badass self. He eyed the skyline, the line of his mouth grim.
He was dusted in snowflakes, not that he seemed to notice or care.

When he turned to her, she got sucked in by his gaze and had to fight the most insane urge not to fist his jacket and pull him close. For comfort.

For more.

The thought caused an inner heat barely doused by the cool flakes falling on them. But she couldn’t go there, couldn’t think about Adam like that, not with her dad still missing.

Actually, she shouldn’t think about Adam like that, ever. “So…to the caves?”

He turned away. “In the morning.”

Oh boy. “You mean—”

“It’s time to stop for the night.”

Something low in her belly quivered. Anxiety, absolutely. But also something else, something that had nothing to do with her missing dad. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We’re going to find him.” His voice said there was no other acceptable option. “Just not until daylight.”

She stared out into the night, thinking of all the reasons why her dad hadn’t been in touch with her, not a single one of them good. She swallowed hard against the building fear and nodded. They were stopping for the night.

It was going to be a long one.

A
dam gathered wood for a fire, keeping an eye on Holly. She was sitting on a log, hands clenched, staring down at her feet as if she wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten her here.

She was cold, wet, and tired. He knew because he was those things, too. But discomfort was something he had learned to simply endure, and his own was insignificant compared to the discomfort and other various emotions pouring off the unusually silent woman in front of him.

The best thing he could do for them both was get the fire going, put food in their bellies, and make sure they got some sleep. It would also keep his mind off the fact that they were going to Kaniksu tomorrow.