On His Watch

by Katie Ruggle

  “Another searcher?” Rob shifted a half step closer, his voice quiet.

  “Nope,” Derek answered. “We got some pictures of it for you, though.”

  “Good. Email them to me, and I’ll check them out.” Rob started heading toward one of the firefighters who was waving him over. “Thanks.”

  They were quiet as they watched the sheriff walk toward the beckoning man. After a few minutes, Derek shifted back a few steps, tugging her with him. Although she gave him a curious glance, she followed willingly enough as he maneuvered them into the shadow of a lodgepole pine.

  “What are you doing?” she finally asked.

  Turning, he backed her against the tree trunk. Even in the dimness, she saw the flash of his wicked grin. “Something I’ve wanted to do since we left the cabin.”

  “Wh—” His mouth landed on hers, cutting off her words. It took only a few seconds before she completely forgot what she’d been about to say. In the years before and after Derek, she’d never experienced anything like his kisses. They’d always brought to mind every romantic cliché she’d ever heard.

  Her arms rose of their own accord to circle his neck. When her tongue met his, he made a low sound and pressed her harder against the tree. He kneaded her hips as he leaned against her, trapping her in the very best way.

  Their earlier conversation ran through her mind, and the knowledge that he still loved her made the kiss even more intense. She squeezed him, hard, never wanting to lose him again.

  “Ahem.”

  Her fingers worked their way under his hat into his hair, pressing against his scalp to keep his mouth on hers, where it should be.

  “Ahem!”

  He nipped at her lower lip, making her moan. His kisses made the entire world disappear, until they were the only two people in it. Heat rose quickly, burning through her as she pulled him even closer, never wanting the embrace to end.

  A female voice intruded on Artie’s bliss. “Too bad the fire trucks are at base camp. We might have to hose these two down to separate them.”

  Artie knew she was still floating in some other world, because she thought she heard Callum laugh. Callum Cook never laughed. The odd sound was enough to jar her out of her Derek-induced daze, and she turned her head toward the interrupting voices.

  “Come back,” Derek grumbled, kissing the line of her jaw.

  It was tempting to melt back into Derek’s embrace, but the sight of Callum and a grinning Lou was as effective as a shot from the aforementioned firehose in returning her to reality.

  “Derek.” She moved her hands from his head to his shoulders so she could push against him. It was like shoving a boulder—a boulder that was kissing a sensitive spot just under her ear that brought a whole host of pleasurable goose bumps. “Derek!”

  Grumbling, he shifted away a fraction of an inch and glared at the intruders. If Artie was to take a deep breath, their chests would touch. “What?”

  “We’re in the middle of a search and rescue mission.” Any hint of laughter was totally missing from Callum’s tone. Artie decided that she’d just imagined his chuckle earlier. Huh. Instead of bells ringing when Derek had kissed her—like in all the stories—she’d heard Callum laughing. That was a disturbing thought.

  “Fine.” Derek stepped back, sliding his hand down her arm to interlace their fingers. “This isn’t really fair, though, Cal. I tried to get you set up with online dating last week, and you kiss-block me. I feel like I’m doing all the giving, and you’re doing all the taking in this relationship.”

  Biting her lip so she didn’t laugh, Artie looked anywhere except at Derek. After giving Derek an arctic glower, Callum stalked away, his shoulders rigid.

  “Let’s go!” he barked.

  Artie made the mistake of meeting Lou’s gaze, and they started snickering. Tossing an arm over both women’s shoulders, Derek steered them toward the rest of the group.

  “Time to go home,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of Artie’s hat. “We’ll eat, sleep, and”—he cleared his throat—“do…other things before someone else needs rescuing.”

  Trying to ignore the way her heart thumped faster at his mention of “other things,” Artie directed her flashlight at the ground, carefully placing each step. It would only take one loose rock to completely destroy her knee. Artie still had a good chance of getting to base camp without being carried, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  As they fell into a single-file line to descend the narrow path, a distant chorus of coyotes echoed in the darkness. Artie glanced up at the towering cliffs, wondering if the mountain lion was perched somewhere high above them. Or maybe the person who’d left the boot print in the snow was still close by, watching.

  With a shiver, she refocused on where she was putting her feet. The downward slope made it tricky to keep her balance, and she winced as a tiny slide jarred her knee. Derek put a steadying hand on her back, reminding her that he was with her—for good, this time.

  Smiling, she took another step toward home.

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  Hold Your Breath

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  Read on for an excerpt from Hold Your Breath, also by Katie Ruggle

  Jumping into a hole cut in the frozen reservoir was a stupid idea. In fact, of all the questionable decisions she’d made since abandoning civilization for her tiny mountain cabin seven months ago, this was probably the worst.

  At least, Lou mused wryly, it was a beautiful place in which to do a dumb thing. The sun lit the snowcapped mountains circling like sleepy sentinels around them, and the wind chased powdery snow across the frozen reservoir. Despite the cold, it still smelled strongly of fish.

  “Ready for some ice-rescue training?” Derek bumped his neoprene-covered arm against hers. He seemed much too cheerful for a guy about to dive into glacial water.

  “No.”

  “Aww, Lou.” When he tried to pat her head with one of his bright blue gloves, she ducked out of reach. “Nervous?”

  “Of course not. Why would I be nervous about jumping into a hole in the ice and swimming around in thirty-two-and-a-half-degree water? Why did I join the Field County Rescue Dive Team and not the Jamaican Whatever again?”

  “Because I would not be on the Jamaican Dive Team,” Derek answered. “And I make it worth the cold.”

  “Yeah, not really.”

  “Hey!” He smacked her arm, she laughed and whacked him back, and then it evolved into a full-fledged slap fight. The blue-nitrile shade of their gloves made them look like life-size cartoons, and Lou couldn’t hold back another laugh.

  “Sparks!”

  Callum’s bellow froze her in place. She shot Derek a wry glance before turning to face their team leader. She took careful, deliberate steps in the clumsy dry suit boots, as humiliation was better served in small doses. Being caught goofing off was bad enough. She didn’t need to fall on her ass, as well.

  “Yes?” She eyed his scowling face. It was too bad about his surliness, since Callum was a joy to look upon otherwise, in a gladiator-meets-drill-sergeant kind of way. His blond hair was military short, and his eyes were a startling and beautiful blue against tan skin. His jaw was square, and his body… Taking a deep breath, she carefully did not check out the neoprene-wrapped perfection below his neck.

  Because…damn.

  “What are you doing?”

  Somehow, answering “Fooling around with Derek,” did not seem like the best idea. “Uh…nothing.”

  He stared at her, heavy frown still in place. “It didn’t—Never mind. You’re like a terrier with ADD. Why can’t you stand still for five minutes?”

  “Because…” She shot a glance at Derek. The traitor had taken several steps back and was pretending to examine a seam on his dry-suit sleeve. “He… I just…um, the gloves…”

  Callum let the silence hang for several seconds. When he eventually turned away
from Lou, she let out the breath she’d been holding and shuffled over to rejoin Derek. Once there, she punched him lightly—well, sort of lightly—in the kidney.

  “Ouch.” He gave her an injured look. “What was that for?”

  “Why am I always the one who gets in trouble?”

  “Because you’re the one who starts it.”

  “Do not,” she protested, realizing she’d gotten a little loud only when Callum’s eyes focused on her again. Dropping her gaze, she studied the half-frozen puddle in front of her boots. It seemed as if every single time she did something embarrassing, Callum was there, watching her with the look—a mix of exasperation and irritated bafflement. The sad part was that, even after three months of getting the look, Lou still wasn’t able to smother the obnoxious butterflies that fluttered in her belly whenever she was the center of his attention.

  “You done?” he asked. At her nod, he jerked his chin toward the icy reservoir.

  Lou fell in line with the six other divers, taking slow, exaggerated steps to avoid tripping over her own neoprene-wrapped feet or slipping on the ice. As they reached the large opening that had been carved out earlier in the day for the training exercise, Lou peered at the water, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek asked, stepping up beside her and following her gaze as if looking for the answer to his own question.

  She shrugged. “All that ice around the edge makes the water look really cold.”

  Bumping her with his elbow, he snorted. “It is cold, genius. It’s literally freezing, which explains all the hard stuff we’re standing on.”

  Lou elbowed him back. “Dork,” she grumbled.

  He smirked at her.

  “The ice is just under ten inches here,” Callum announced in his schoolteacher tone—the one that always made Lou want to act up like a contrary third grader. “Is that thick enough for a group of people to walk on?”

  “Wouldn’t it have been better to confirm that before we left shore?” Lou muttered, making Derek snicker. Callum sent a sharp look her way.

  “It’s thick enough,” Chad answered, taking a step toward Callum. “It’d even be okay to drive on it.”

  “Drive what?”

  “A car or light truck,” Chad said quickly. “For anything more, twelve inches would be better.”

  “That’s what she said,” Derek whispered loud enough to make everyone except Callum laugh. Even Chad grinned before dropping his chin to hide it.

  Callum let his gaze fall on each person in turn. The chuckles died, replaced by awkward coughs.

  “So this ice is safe?” he finally asked when silence had fallen over the team members.

  “Yes.” Chad was the first to speak up again, and Lou winced. He’d obviously already forgotten the four hours they’d spent watching training videos that morning.

  Wilt gave a slow, sad shake of his head. “No ice is safe,” he said in the Arkansas drawl he held on to even after forty years in Colorado. Lou liked Wilt. He was a soft-spoken man who kept quiet unless he had something important to say. When he spoke, everyone shut up and listened. Wilt was in his sixties, with a thick mustache that drooped over his mouth, giving him a perpetually mournful expression.

  “Good, Wilt,” Callum said. “Glad someone was paying attention this morning. We have to be especially careful of weak spots after the warm spell last week. Even though it’s been cold the past couple of days, the ice probably hasn’t recovered yet.”

  Chad’s shoulders sagged. Knowing all too well how it felt to be under the heavy weight of Callum’s displeasure, Lou shot him a sympathetic glance. He avoided her gaze.

  “Okay!” Callum clapped his blue-gloved hands together. “Everyone in the water. First time in is the hardest, so it’s best to get it over with.”

  Lou eyed the water doubtfully, shuffling a little closer to the edge of the hole. She had a lot of scuba diving experience, but most of it had been in tropical locations. This was new to her.

  “What if my suit has a leak?” Chad asked. Lou whipped her head around to stare at him. Hell. She’d never thought about a leaky suit. Her newly panicked gaze flew to Callum’s face.

  “Your suit is buoyant enough that it won’t matter, even if it fills with water to your armpits.” Callum waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll still float.”

  Slightly relieved but trying not to think about how freaking cold thirty-two-degree water up to her armpits would be, she turned her attention back to the opening in the ice. Derek had already taken the plunge.

  “C’mon in,” he said, letting his legs float to the surface and leaning back as if he were in an easy chair. “The water’s fine.”

  Deciding to just get it done, Lou took a breath and jumped in. When her head went under, she instantly realized her mistake. Once the shockingly cold water hit her face, her lungs clamped down, squeezing out all her oxygen. She didn’t even try to figure out which way was up but just let her suit float her to the surface instead.

  She felt a tap on the back of her hood and yanked her face out of the water. Callum was close enough for her to see the deep creases between his eyebrows.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “Y-yep.”

  After examining her face carefully, he shook his head. “Never do anything halfway, do you, Sparks?”

  Since she didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult, she kept quiet. Her legs kept wanting to float to the surface behind her and tip her onto her front as the others climbed in more carefully. Scowling, she tried to force her lower half down but ended up flailing unsuccessfully.

  “How are you staying upright?” she asked Callum, craning her neck to keep her face out of the water as her legs headed for the surface again.

  “Tuck them to your chest and then push them straight down.” He swam toward the icy ledge as she struggled to master her buoyant suit. She finally managed to shove her legs down so her body was more or less upright.

  “Ha!” she crowed, slapping the surface in victory. “Got you down, bitches!”

  “Did you just call your legs ‘bitches’?” Derek asked from directly behind her, making her jump. Her upper body tilted forward, but she got herself back under control.

  “Yep. Occasional evidence to the contrary, I am in charge of all my body parts.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Everyone out!” Callum bellowed, levering his body onto the ice with ease. “Exit the water on your front like a seal and then roll away from the edge. Remember, the more you can distribute your weight, the less likely it is you’ll go through the ice.”

  Lou flattened her hands on the ice and tried to hoist her body out of the water, but it looked a lot easier when Callum did it. Her legs, damn the rogue bastards, floated forward and up, catching under the ledge. She managed to slam the edge of the ice into her belly, driving out her breath.

  “Nice, Lou,” Derek mocked as he slid gracefully onto the solid surface. “You’re like a special seal.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, panting, as she hauled herself out of the water.

  This, she could tell, was going to be one hell of a day.

  * * *

  “Sparks!” Callum bellowed. “You’re up!”

  She sighed, relinquishing her spot on the rope where she’d been helping to pull the “victims” and their rescuers out of the water and across the ice. It was like a lopsided game of tug-of-war—all brute strength and teamwork—and she’d actually been getting to like that part of training, despite the hard work. But now that she wasn’t pulling, she noticed her eyelashes had frosted over, and her neck and the top of her chest were clammy from the water that had leaked into the suit after her full-body plunge.

  Trudging over to Callum, she lifted her arms so he could wrap the end of the rope around her middle. Although she’d watched three of the guys perform an in-water rescue, she was still nervous. The ice-rescue veterans had made it look easy, but she had a feeling her first time wouldn’t go so smoothly.

&n
bsp; Callum handed her the victim’s harness, which looked like a skinny pool noodle. It was attached to her rope with about six feet of line. That way, the victim would be first out of the water, and she’d be behind him, in a position to help lift him onto the ice.

  “When you get to the victim, carabineer should be in your right hand,” Callum instructed. “The other end goes in your left. Get control of your suit before trying to save anybody. Approach the victim from the side or back, talk to him, harness him up, signal the guys to start pulling, and lift your knee to help boost him onto the ice with your thigh. Once you get your hands on him, do not let go of your patient. Got it?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded a little uncertain, so she firmed her jaw and tried again. “Yes.”

  Callum’s mouth quirked up on one side. If it had been anyone but Callum, Lou would’ve thought he was holding back a smile.

  Okay. Okay, she could do this.

  She approached the edge of the ice, crawling when she was ten feet out and then moving to her belly and sliding across the last yard. Swinging her legs around, she dropped feetfirst into the water, careful to keep her face above the surface this time. She looked back at where Callum stood on the ice. He bumped his closed fist on the top of his head, the signal for Are you okay? She answered in the affirmative with a matching fist-to-head bump before heading toward her “victim.”

  Holding her face out of the water, she swam toward Phil, who clung to the ice on the other side of the opening with melodramatic panic. Lou had to bite back a groan when she saw how he was putting every ounce of community-theater experience into his role of drowning victim.

  Coming up next to him, she tried to get her legs underneath her as she spoke. “Hang on, sir. I’m Louise Sparks with the Field County Dive Team. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  Phil’s pretend struggles increased, and his thrashing hand slapped the water, splashing it into her face. Air left her lungs again at the breath-stealing cold, and her legs floated up behind her. Damn it. When she could move her body again, she drew her knees up and pushed her feet straight down, glaring at her grinning victim.