Wild About Her Wingman

by Robin Bielman

  “I can’t have you as my subject. I’m not supposed to conduct my studies on people I know. It could cloud my judgment. It might make you more anxious.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But dammit. I waited until the last minute to do this and I don’t know if I’ll find someone else in time.”

  He ran his hands down the sides of his shorts. “I’m already anxious if that makes you feel any better. And yeah, maybe even more so, finding you standing here instead of a stranger. But I’m also a little relieved because the last therapist I had was unfriendly and about as sympathetic as a serial killer. So how about we just start things off fresh? Troy Streiber,” he said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  She stared down at his strong, capable hand, afraid if she took it she wouldn’t want to let go. “Troy.”

  He dropped his arm. “I need you, Erin. You’re my last hope.” He looked at the ground and Erin’s heart cracked. A small crack, but enough to draw her to him even though it was a bad idea.

  Something must have happened to him on the job to trigger his phobia. She saw shame and pain etched in the lines across his forehead, at the corners of his eyes. But most of all she saw sadness in the way his body had just completely deflated. Troy stood over six feet but the man next to her appeared small.

  She wanted to help him.

  She could help him.

  “Well, when you put it that way.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to be deadly. She needed to start comparing him to a wombat or something similarly odd-looking to keep her mind from wandering to scenarios of his mouth touching her—in special spots.

  Oh my God. She did not just think that. This wasn’t a bad idea. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate it. And I promise I’ll be a great subject. I’m committed to kicking this fear in the butt.”

  “I can definitely get you calm, cool, and comfortable up high again.”

  “I had no idea you were studying psychology.”

  “Clinical psychology. My focus is on how being outdoors and a part of the natural world can heal people, both physically and emotionally. Prepare yourself to be transformed.”

  His grin grew wider. “You just made my day.”

  “I have that effect on people.” She ran her fingers through her hair.

  “This exposure therapy means you’ll coach me mentally, too?”

  “Yes. It would be pretty hard to help you without it.”

  He folded his arms, drawing her eye to his very nice chest again. She had a pretty good hunch she wouldn’t be disappointed if she saw him without a shirt.

  “To keep our knowing each other under the radar, call me Subject X,” he said, and then winked.

  And oh my, she almost swooned at the cuteness.

  “We’ll do this today, but I will need to confirm with my adviser and probably Captain Sullivan that this arrangement is okay.”

  He moved closer. “Fair enough,” he said quietly.

  Erin drew in a breath. His nearness made her tingle wildly in places she should not be tingling. And she was thinking about his mouth again and what he could do with it besides speak softly in her ear.

  She spun around, disgusted with this physical attraction she couldn’t seem to keep at bay. He was part of her study now and she needed to stay professional. “Let’s do this, then.”

  Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, not the man trudging up the hill behind you, she told herself. “Serial killer, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  Troy stayed quiet on most of the hike, but she never stopped being hyperaware of him. Since he was in great shape, his breathing was never labored, but that delicious scent of his, dammit, kept getting caught in her every inhale.

  He followed too close. A mile away would be too close.

  “So tell me about it,” she called out.

  “It?” he answered.

  “Whatever happened to make you afraid of heights.” She’d decided that with her back to him and the beauty of Cascade’s woodlands surrounding them, he’d be more inclined to share than if she’d tried talking to him face-to-face at the foot of their climb. Nature soothed; it made a person feel alive.

  She slowed her pace to give him plenty of time before they got to the bridge. And for the first time in the last forty-five minutes, she heard him take a breath.

  “We got a call about a rock climber stuck on the side of one of the most difficult canyons in Boulder. The spot was known for unstable terrain, and we’d had some rain for several days that softened the clay and made the landscape a little more vulnerable. National forestry always cautions climbers after big changes in temp or weather patterns, but dedicated climbers don’t always listen. By the time we got there the woman…” He cleared his throat. “The woman had died. Fatally struck by a loose rock.”

  She pushed a branch out of the way, then another. The crash of the waterfall grew louder. Mist in the air brushed over her face with faint strokes.

  When she didn’t say anything in reply, he continued.

  “I was first to rappel down the mountain to retrieve the body. But before I got to her I lost my sense of balance, panicked, and froze. All I could think about was getting back on the ground and crawling on all fours.”

  They got to the clearing and she turned around. Her eyes met his and for a moment she stood numb, caught in their muddy waters. His admission hadn’t been the least bit comfortable and she wondered what he’d left out. His hyper-reaction wasn’t a response to external fear, since he hadn’t mentioned anything going wrong with his gear. That implied that something internal had to have triggered his survival mechanism and his sudden fear of heights.

  He looked away first, over her shoulder to the steel-and-concrete arched bridge anchored into rock cliffs. It allowed passage 125 feet above the river below.

  “I picked this spot because legend has it Cascade Falls has some magical charm and refreshes the soul.” She turned to take in the falls that spilled down an alcove in the mountain. The water fell with energy and beauty. Lush vegetation covered much of the alcove all the way down to the tranquil waterway.

  Troy stepped around her. “It’s really something. I haven’t been up here in a long time.”

  “You’ve been on the bridge before?” She made a mental note. Several, actually, as they watched the beauty of Mother Nature.

  He canted his head. His warm brown eyes had lost most of their murkiness. “Yes.”

  “Great. So you ready to do this, X-Man?”

  That got a small smile out of him.

  On a Tuesday morning, late in October, no one else was around, which gave them plenty of time to tackle the bridge. “So a little more about exposure therapy,” she said. “Exposing someone to what he fears in order to overcome anxiety often proves extremely effective. There are studies that say exposure even one time can do away with the phobia completely.”

  “Captain Sullivan mentioned that.” Troy didn’t sound too convinced, though. “So you want me to just walk across the bridge?”

  “I want you to walk across the bridge. There’s a handrail and I’ll be next to you the whole way.”

  He took a few steps and craned his neck to get a look at how far up they were. “Should be a piece of cake.”

  “Should be. What’s going on in that head of yours?” She brushed his side as she came to stand beside him.

  “That I can do this.”

  “I know you can. After what you told me, I don’t think it’s the height that panics you, but something your mind wants to avoid when you’re exposed to heights. You never had a problem before that day, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So what about that moment triggered your survival mechanism? What tripped you up and made you doubt your abilities?”

  “I…” He stared off across the valley.

  “You don’t have to answer right now. I just wanted to plant the seed in your mind tha
t some safety mechanism kicked in that day on the side of the mountain and at the moment you’re still afraid to unlock it.

  “Normal caution is okay. Let’s see if we can use that today to get you across the bridge.” She took his hand and squeezed. “I think you can do this. And if you can’t, we’ll try something different another day. No worries.”

  The late-morning rays of sunshine shimmered around Troy. Birds rustled in the trees. The air, crisp and fresh, carried the promise of new beginnings under the powder-blue sky. Erin wiped at the thin layer of mist on her cheeks. She dug her boots into the soft soil to keep her feet planted. He needed to make the first move.

  It took him only a second to shift and walk to the bridge. His black T-shirt clung to his wide shoulders and back. His khaki shorts hung low on his waist and fell to his knees. He was tall, sinewy, imposing. She could stare at his backside for the rest of the day without hardship.

  He paused at the edge of the trail and put a hand on the bridge’s railing. The railing came waist high and unless someone wanted to jump, there was no reason to fear falling.

  “I think something happened in your thought process while you were on that mountain that led you to the imagined fear of heights,” she said, stepping around him and onto the bridge. She turned and took a few backward steps, keeping eye contact. “A bad memory, an experience at work where you were at risk of physical harm.”

  His honey-brown eyes stayed intensely on hers until the space between them vanished. “It wasn’t any of those things,” he said, his voice rough.

  “Okay.” Her heart thumped with such a strong desire to help him figure this out that she had to take a deep breath.

  After a few moments, she backed away again, leading him across the bridge with slow, deliberate steps. She never took her eyes off him. She wanted him to know she was with him every step of the way. Nothing would harm him while they stayed connected like this.

  He looked away. His attention darted to the waterfall, the mountainside, and then the drop below.

  “Erin, the girl… Stop! Don’t back up any more.”

  She startled at his order and wheeled around, thinking she might be about to run into someone, but no one was behind her. She whipped back around. He had such a tight grip on the railing that his knuckles were white. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession. She could feel the tension radiating off him and it killed her. She closed the gap between them. As soon as she got close enough, he grabbed her arm with his free hand.

  “I’m stuck,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I feel like I’m about to lose my footing.”

  “Okay, but we’re standing on something solid. You won’t fall.”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “What about me?” His grip tightened around her arm. Nothing she couldn’t handle, and she gave him a small smile, hoping to reassure him that she stood there whole and…happy. God, despite the stiffness in his body, the tight line of his lips, her body vibrated with excitement. This was what she’d wanted. To work at helping people, her office the great outdoors.

  “I’m afraid something might happen to you.”

  She gently peeled his hand away. His arm dropped to his side. “Like what? It’s just you, me, and a very sturdy bridge here.”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” He jammed his hand through his hair.

  Erin tiptoed backward. “How about this. Imagine me in my underwear.” She kept inching away, hoping he’d resume his forward momentum in order to stick close.

  He raised one eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to accomplish?”

  “It helps people who are afraid to speak in front of an audience. Maybe it will work to keep your mind off the bridge.”

  His gaze slid up and down her body. He took a step. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Blue.” He took another step.

  “Blue it is. With lace.”

  This time he looked his fill and shivers swept over her shoulders and down her back. “Have I mentioned I have a great imagination?”

  “I bet you do.” She swallowed. What the heck was she doing, teasing him like this? Getting him across the bridge, that’s what. They’d moved halfway across.

  “Should I tell you about it?” he asked.

  “You should. I’ll get you started. I only wear thongs.” Oh, just dropkick her across the bridge. She should not be encouraging him further or taking part in this kind of banter with a subject in her study. But throwing her professionalism aside had been a piece of cake with his eyes undressing her. She hated to admit—wouldn’t admit—that his perusal did things to her body that she liked. A lot.

  “Turn around,” he said, his voice gravelly.

  She did and holy snapfish did it turn her on knowing he was checking out her ass in her beige cargo shorts. After a few seconds, she turned back around to be sure he was still following.

  He’d gotten closer.

  And they were thisclose to crossing the bridge now. “Guess my unorthodox therapy worked because guess what?” She stopped with her boots back on the soft ground. “You did it.”

  Troy stopped just shy of bumping bodies and stared down at her. He breathed a sigh of relief, but other than that she couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Thank you,” he said.

  “No problem.”

  He looked over his shoulder, twisted, and took a couple of steps back onto the bridge before he stopped. His shoulders tensed, his legs buckled, and he grabbed the railing. “Shit.”

  Erin put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I sort of cheated a little there. Tricked your mind. And I realize now that might not have been the best idea.” A long line of expletives racing through her mind, she clenched her teeth. She hated when she acted without thinking in her work. This was exactly why she shouldn’t know her subject personally. She never would have bantered with him like that if she hadn’t known him.

  He shrugged away from her touch, moved back to the forest floor, and kept walking. She let him have some space before she watched his backside as they wove their way down the mountain in silence.

  Next time—if there even was one after she came clean with her adviser—she’d leave stupid undergarments out of it.

  …

  Troy had canceled on Erin.

  Twice.

  And it made him grumpy.

  The first time had been Thursday night when they’d made a plan to go back to the bar in Beaver Creek. The second time had been on Sunday when she’d wanted to take him outside again. Captain Sullivan and her adviser had agreed to let them continue to work together on the grounds that they limit their personal interactions and keep their relationship professional during his exposure therapy.

  Easy.

  If he ignored the maddening physical tug she had on him.

  Her texts back to him had been brief and he’d gotten the feeling she was irritated. But Amelia had needed him. She’d come down with croup on Thursday and that barking cough of hers had pierced his heart. All she’d wanted was him to stay with her, so he had. By Sunday, she’d recovered, but he’d been the only guest invited to her tea party and he couldn’t turn that down.

  “Dude,” Oliver said, trying to catch his breath as he caught up to Troy and dropped to a walk beside him. “If you’re going to haul my ass out of bed at six thirty in the morning on our day off, the least you could do is slow your pace to human level.”

  Troy wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and pushed canceling on Erin out of his head. He’d have run faster and farther if not for the bum beside him. “All that Halloween candy is weighing you down.” They trudged down Main Street, the early hour offering tranquillity and the amazing scent of Crem’s Bakery. The sun hid just on the other side of the mountains, shafts of light on the rise.

  “You try telling Mrs. Witt no when she stops by the station to bring her leftover candy and wants to watch you eat it because she needs to know if I think peanuts
or almonds go better with chocolate. I guess she has a peanut allergy?”

  Mrs. Witt was one of Cascade’s longest residents and Oliver was right. No one said no to the sweet seventysomething woman.

  Almonds. He’d had a few mini-chocolate bars himself after going trick-or-treating with Amelia. She’d refused to hold her mom’s hand, but his she’d squeezed the entire time they walked around the neighborhood. She’d been the cutest princess by far and his heart swelled every time she bounced up to a front door, knocked, and said “trick or treat” with that tiny, adorable voice of hers. He’d been happy to spend the night in her company rather than attend a Halloween party at one of the firefighter’s houses.

  “Not sure if she does,” Troy said.

  “We doing this?” Oliver asked when they got to the front of Crem’s.

  The crumb cake calling his name would make the run back tough, but yeah, they were doing this. He hadn’t stuck a ten-dollar bill in his shorts pocket for nothing.

  “Did you think I dragged my ass out of bed just to see you?” Troy opened the glass door and a rush of warmth and sugary scents hit him.

  “There is a rumor going around that you like me.”

  “What?”

  “Hey, don’t blame the messenger. It’s you who hasn’t had a date since you’ve moved back to town, and we do make a cute pair in our uniforms.” Oliver winked.

  Troy grumbled. “And when was your last date?”

  “Last night actually. Ergo the reason I’m tired this morning. Got a workout last night.” He grinned and Troy wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

  They walked up to the counter and Meredith Crem herself served them. “Hey boys.” She took in their appearance. “I thought you were supposed to carb load the night before a run, not during.”

  “Yeah, well, Happy Face next to me needs a lift,” Oliver said.

  Meredith smiled and pulled a big piece of her cinnamon crumb cake out of the pastry case. She put it on a plate and handed it over. “This ought to do the trick.”

  Troy’s bad mood lessened. Meredith knew his favorite. This town, this small coastal community, had his back. “Thanks, Mer.” He’d never called her that before, but heard others use it.