“You have three brothers, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said, jolting from his thoughts.
“Are you close?”
“Used to be,” he admitted. “Still are, really, but we grew up, we each chose a different path and we all got busy building lives. Jefferson lives in Ireland now, so no, we don’t see much of each other anymore.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, spooning chowder into two bowls and handing him one. “Family is important. It’s the only important thing.”
Which made him remember that now that she’d lost her brother, Daisy had no family. Though he didn’t see much of his, he couldn’t really imagine life without them, either.
In the firelight, Daisy looked lovely, delicate, with her soft hair falling over her shoulders, reflections of the flames dancing in her wide, brown eyes. She ate her soup and thought her thoughts and couldn’t possibly have known that just looking at her was making him … want.
Which just naturally brought to mind Sam’s warnings before they’d left the lodge that morning. Maybe the older man was right. Maybe Jericho was just being twitchy and not being fair to her.
But, hell, it was his mountain.
Who said he had to be fair?
Jericho watched Daisy maneuver her way carefully across a rope bridge in the early morning light and found himself silently rooting for her. She was a surprise in many ways. Not only did she have spine, she seemed inherently incapable of quitting. She wasn’t afraid to try something—take a risk—if it meant getting herself closer to her goal.
Plus her incessant good humor was starting to rub off on him. Hard to maintain a stern demeanor when you were faced down by a brilliant smile every time you turned around. Yeah, she wasn’t what he’d expected at all. And though his original opinion that she didn’t belong on the mountain still held, he had to give her credit for a hell of a lot more than he would have guessed.
Frowning, he watched her take small steps and then slide her hands along the top rope of the bridge. He’d had several obstacle-course projects made and installed before he’d opened the camp. This was one of his personal favorites.
A single, heavy rope was the base of the bridge with more ropes angling up from the base in a V. Stretched between two tall pines, the bridge was only four feet off the ground, so anyone falling wasn’t going to die. Though the bruises gathered would be a painful reminder of failure. He’d seen plenty of men topple off that bridge, cursing their own clumsiness and ineptitude, but Daisy was making it. Sure, she was taking twice as long as most people to complete the course, but careful didn’t mean failure.
The wind lifted her long ponytail and snapped it like a flag. Her jeans were dirty and her hands were curled so tightly around the guide rail ropes that her knuckles were white. But she was doing it.
He stood below her, watching every step and wanting her to succeed.
“Why does it have to sway so much?” she demanded, not risking a look at him but keeping her gaze fixed, just as he’d told her to, on her final goal.
“It’s a rope,” he reminded her, “bound to sway.”
“I don’t understand how this is a survival thing,” she muttered, scooting her clenched fists farther along the guide ropes. Her feet slid forward another inch or two.
“If you have to get to the other side of a river fast, you’d understand.”
“Be faster to swim,” she pointed out and gave him a fleeting grin.
“You’re doing fine. Pay attention to where you’re putting your feet. One in front of the other.”
“I know,” she said, swallowing hard. “Good thing you made me change out of my boots before we left the lodge. Never would have done this in them.”
He smiled to himself and kept pace with her. The dog at the end of the leash he held barked and pranced and in general made a racket as it tried, futilely, to reach Daisy. “How can you concentrate with this dog shooting off its mouth?”
“I’m used to it. Nikki’s very chatty,” she admitted and one of her feet slipped off the rope. She gasped but caught herself before she could fall. “Whoa, boy. That was close.”
“It was.” And he didn’t want to think about the feeling that had jolted through him with her misstep. He’d watched dozens, hundreds of people walk this rope bridge and never once before had he had a vested interest in how they managed it.
Lots of them had taken tumbles, too, and it hadn’t bothered him a bit. Yet damned if he wanted Daisy falling.
Shaking his head, Jericho acknowledged that he was having a problem. He was supposed to be discouraging her from passing these little tests. Instead, he’d helped her as much as he could. Maybe it was because of her brother, Jericho told himself. Maybe he felt as if he owed her something. But then again, maybe it was just because he wanted her.
He could admit that much to himself. And whatever he was feeling for her had only intensified since that morning. He and Daisy had gone to sleep the night before, lying on opposite sides of the fire.
But the nights were cold at this altitude and when Jericho woke up this morning, it was to find a curvy, beautiful, warm woman snuggled up close to him, spooning herself along the front of his body. Which completely explained the dream he’d been having, filled with images of hot, sweaty sex. He woke up to an aching groin and his blood pumping fast and thick through his veins. Ever since that moment of wakefulness, his body had been strung taut as a violin string.
“Jericho?”
He snapped out of his thoughts and focused anew. “No more talking. Just concentrate.”
“Okay,” she countered, keeping her gaze fixed on the end of the rope bridge, “if I can’t talk, then you talk to me.”
He shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“That’s not talking,” she said.
“Fine,” he said, tugging on the leash to pull the dog back into line, “I’ll talk. Let’s see … we’ve got a batch of clients arriving end of next week. Only be here for a long weekend.”
“Who are they?” she asked as her foot slipped. “Whoops!”
“Concentrate.”
“Right. I’m good. Fine. Keep talking.”
“They’re part of a law firm from Indiana,” he said. Remembering how the last bunch of lawyers had performed, Jericho wasn’t looking forward to it. Lawyers seemed incapable of unwinding. Even in the wilderness, they were wired, tense. Without their PDAs and cell phones, they acted like spoiled children missing a favorite toy. They didn’t like being in the outdoors and usually resented being sent here by their companies.
“Not looking forward to it,” he said. “Lawyers complain too much.”
“True enough. I’m almost across.”
She was. Close enough to the end that she was liable to start speeding up to get it over with. “Slow down. Careful steps.”
“I am, I am,” she told him in an undertone. “So if you don’t like lawyers why have them here?”
“They’re paying customers, like anyone else.”
“Uh-huh. Did you ever think of opening up the camp to kids?”