When they hit the worst section of the roof, Travis straddled two beams a foot below Hannah, watched her movements closely, and made sure he never positioned his feet on the same boards as she did. The wood was weak; it could hold her, but not him, too.
The mist gradually lifted as they scaled the roof, the sun rose higher above the mountain ridge, and soon, the familiar scent of smoke descended on the ranch.
Travis glanced up as Hannah tugged at another nail and eyed the gray streak of smoke above a mountain in the distance. The same one he’d noticed yesterday morning when he’d arrived at Paradise Peak. “That smoke . . . What’s it coming from?”
Hannah stopped yanking at the nail, raised her head, and studied the plume of smoke. “Wildfire.” She dragged her forearm across her brow as she stared. “We get them from time to time. It’s been warmer than usual the last two winters. We’ve had a drought, and a storm came through four days ago—no rain, but plenty of lightning, which started the fire. That doesn’t usually happen till spring.”
“Are they trying to put it out?”
“In a way.” She returned her attention to the nail and tugged it free. “The fire’s weak and in an isolated part of the park. They say it’s contained and nothing to worry about.”
Her hands shook as she gripped the rotten board and pulled. Travis eyed the pink flush in her cheeks and tight set of her soft mouth. “But you’re worried?”
She jerked the board loose and passed it to him. “I’m concerned. After four days, who wouldn’t be?”
He took the board and heaved it over his shoulder onto the pile below. Hannah gripped a beam, her boots exploring carefully behind her for a foothold on the next board. Travis moved his feet to lower beams, making way for her as she repositioned herself and attacked the next damaged board.
“How long will they let it burn before they take more aggressive measures?” he asked.
“Not long. There’s heavy rain in the forecast for tomorrow afternoon. If they keep it contained until then, it’ll be doused.” She removed the last nail from the board, slipped it in a small bag at her waist with the others, and lifted the board. “Wildfires aren’t all bad; they help healthy growth of the woodland, and some wildlife benefits from them. But despite that”—she passed the board to him—“I still don’t like them.”
“I don’t blame you.” He turned, tossed the beam, and watched it hit the pile twelve feet below, scattering a few boards in its wake. “What will they do if it doesn’t rai—”
A sharp crack split the air, the board beneath one of Travis’s feet gave way, and he caught the flash of an auburn ponytail slipping by in his peripheral vision.
He fell onto the exposed beams, wrapping his right arm around one to secure his position, and his left arm shot out, his gloved hand grasping blindly at the soft material of a shirt, the smooth skin of a forearm, then curled tightly around Hannah’s small wrist as she fell through the gap between two beams. Her weight swung to one side, stretching his muscles to the point of pain, but he held on.
She dangled, her legs swaying several feet above the sharp edges of stall walls and twelve feet above the hard ground below. Her free arm flailed, hand outstretched, for a grip on the roof, on the wall, on anything.
Travis looked down, his eyes meeting Hannah’s wide, panicked ones. Her mouth opened, her chest lifted and fell on swift breaths, but she didn’t make a sound. No scream—not even a plea for help.
Despite the tearing pain in his shoulder and the fear spiking through him at the thought of not being able to pull her back up, he kept his tone calm and said the only words his constricted throat could manage. “Hold on.”
* * *
Hannah threw her free arm out, straining to reach the wood beams above her head. She slipped a quarter of an inch out of Travis’s tight grip, the glove on her hand rolling further up her wrist. His low words barely cut through the pounding echo of her startled heart.
Hold on.
“To what?”
The beams above her were out of reach and the stable wall was too far away to swing over to for a foothold. She searched his eyes, the dark depths blank and unreadable.
Oh, God. This emotionless stranger’s grip on her wrist was the only thing preventing her from plummeting to hard earth. She looked down and her legs kicked as silent terror rippled through her at the thought.
“To me.”
She stopped kicking and refocused on his face. A muscle ticked along hard-clenched muscles in his jaw, but his mouth curved upward in a tight smile.
“You’re gonna have to hold on to me,” he said, voice strained. “Seeing as how I decided to catch instead of fetch.”
“F-fetch?” Her breath caught. “What’re you talking about?”
“I can’t fetch help, so I’m gonna pull you up.”
A ragged sound—half sob, half laugh—burst from her lips. “Really? You’re cracking a joke right now?”
“I’m telling you to grab on to me.”
She slipped another quarter of an inch, a gasp escaping her. “I—”
“Now,” he rasped. “Please!”
Hannah lunged up, her free hand latching on to Travis’s broad forearm. The muscular tendons flexed beneath her hold as his gloved hand tightened around hers and pulled upward.
His wide upper body rose in slow increments and his knee shifted under him, his thick thigh straining against the seam of his jeans as he squatted on the exposed beams and hauled her higher and higher.
Her arm cleared the roof, then her shoulders, chest, and waist. She jerked her right leg up, propped her knee on a beam, and pushed against the wood until her entire body reached the roof and both of her feet were planted on sturdy wood again.
Hannah lay there facedown, her body sprawled across exposed beams, one hand wrapped around a beam and the other still clenched in Travis’s grip.
“Are you okay?”
She dragged her attention away from the hard dirt floor of the stable, visible between the exposed beams, and looked at Travis. His lean cheeks were red, his mouth pinched, and his hand holding her wrist shook. The tremors traveled up his arm, making the muscular biceps pressed against her ribs tremble. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and a soft strand of his black hair had tumbled over his eyebrow.
“I’m fine.” She licked her lips and asked, voice catching, “You?”
Emotion flickered in his dark eyes as they met hers. His expression softened despite the pained set of his jaw, and he nodded.
They remained still for a couple moments, their heavy breaths rasping as they stared at the drop below them.
Travis released his grip on her wrist and his gloved hand trailed away across the beams to his side. “Did I hurt you?”
Hannah blinked at the regretful note in his voice. “What?”
“Your wrist.” He dipped his head. “Did I hold you too hard?”
She followed the direction of his gaze and studied the sensitive flesh of her wrist, where red blotches the size and shape of his fingers deepened into a purple-tinged shade with each passing second. An intense throb still hummed beneath her skin, but something warm and soothing mingled with the pain.
Bryan had hurt her more often than not during their ten-year marriage and had broken every promise he’d made to change. The pain he’d inflicted had always been deep, infiltrating every safe space inside her until she’d forgotten how it felt to not be afraid.