Page 14 of Smokin’ Situation (Masked Men of Sage Springs #3)

Annie

His eyes.

I’d recognized the eyes of the man who’d wrenched open the back door of my truck to pull me out. And while I wasn’t a hundred percent certain that my rescuer via horseback was Tripp, I kind of hoped it was.

He wasn’t wearing a uniform, and I didn’t think that the fire department had started wearing thigh hugging jeans, riding boots and cowboy hats. There was something about those eyes, though.

But since we’d been a bit preoccupied with escaping a wildfire that had gotten too close for comfort, I hadn’t exactly had time to ask him to take off the bandana covering his face and make an introduction.

Although, at this point, he was probably the opposite of happy to see me, even if I’d never been so thankful to see another person in my life.

I knew it was my fault that we were both in this situation, but seeing him again had sent a jolt of relief through me so bone deep that I’d happily take any amount of ire directed in my way because of my reckless actions.

Brilliant golds and pinks painted the sky above the mountain tops with a beautiful watercolor display of nature’s beauty, but as I peeked out of the blanket I’d had pulled around my head and shoulders, my eyes scanned lower in the horizon, my breath catching in my chest as I saw the sheer destruction that had turned the mountain I’d lived half my life on into a desolate, charred landscape .

A desolation that I hoped and prayed my sister had escaped, because I didn’t know what I’d do without her. She was the only family member I had left.

The horse slowed its pace as we edged closer to the mountain, hugging the shoreline of a lake I hadn’t known existed.

I guess that made sense, since it was tucked along the edge of what I knew was private property.

I was pretty sure it was part of Charley’s family horse ranch, but why would Tripp have been on the ranch?

My rescuer’s hand pressed against my stomach, and I pulled the blanket that had been covering my head down to rest on my shoulders, turning to look back at him.

“We’re gonna stop here.”

His eyes held mine through the gap between the brim of his hat and the bandana covering the rest of his face, and I wished I could see more to read his expression.

He had to be epically pissed off at me. If he was irritated I had gotten myself into trouble yesterday by not drinking water, I was sure it’d morphed into full-blown anger at putting myself directly in the path of an uncontained wildfire.

He pulled back slightly with the hand that had been holding the reins, slowing the horse as we neared a quaint barnlike structure tucked around the backside of the small cabins we’d passed.

My heartbeat that had slowed once we were out of the forest and further away from the edge of the fire raced now that we were safe.

At least I hoped we were far enough away to be safe.

With how quickly the fire had spread, I was still on edge.

There had been spotty fires in the mountains before, but never this close to town, and never one that had threatened everything I held dear.

“Stay put.” His deep voice was still muffled by the bandana, but it held an edge that just increased my anxiety. Part of being a people pleaser was that you hated it when you disappointed people. And I had done something that warranted an emotion much stronger than disappointment.

He pulled away the large hand that had anchored me to him, still holding onto the reins with the other as he slipped out of the saddle. Despite the July heat, I felt cold without his solid presence wrapped around my back.

My fingers gripped the horn as he pulled the reins over the horse’s head and led her inside the small building.

It was dark, but much cooler than it’d been outside.

Goosebumps cropped up along the back of my neck as I watched him settle the end of the reins on a hook outside of a shadowy stall, ducking underneath the horse’s head and disappearing into the darkness.

The large animal shifted beneath me, her soft breaths the only sound accompanying the loud beat of my heart.

Unsure of whether he wanted me to climb off the horse, I just waited, only jumping slightly when the hum of an engine further in the building kicked on, followed shortly by the overhead lights.

Continuing to stare at the empty stall in front of me, I waited, startled when two large hands closed on the sides of my waist, lifting me from the horse and depositing me on the dirt aisle that ran down the center of the barn.

Harsh breaths filled the air behind me, and I wasn’t sure what to do as his fingers squeezed my sides, lightly digging in before he released me. He pulled away the blanket and untied the bandana that was tied around my face.

Heaving in several breaths, I turned, expecting to meet the angry gaze of the man who’d had to pluck me out of my stranded vehicle, but he was several paces away, leaning against the opposite wall with his head down.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, watching as he slowly slid down the wall, hunching over his knees, holding the sides of his face in his hands. He didn’t answer me, struggling to pull in full breaths through the bandana still wrapped around his face.

Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees in front of him, pulling off his hat and untying the bandana, discarding them to the side. He didn’t move, his shoulders shaking as he dragged in heavy breaths .

“What do you need? Are you hurt? Is there something I can do?” I asked, fighting the urge to touch him in case he was injured, and I didn’t know about it.

“No,” he rasped, still heaving in labored breaths as he shook his head. I sat helplessly, watching him struggle for breath, flexing my fingers. After a few moments, he didn’t seem to calm any, tucking his head further into his knees and rocking in place.

Unable to watch, I grasped the back of his hands, gently pulling until he tilted his face in my direction, his panicked eyes connecting with mine.

My suspicions were confirmed as Tripp met my gaze, but it was like he looked right through me, unable to focus as he was gripped by whatever was going on inside his head.

Acting on instinct, I smoothed the sweaty hair off his forehead, lowering my voice as I leaned in, trying to calm him. “Hey, just breathe. You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re safe.”

His eyes closed; the lids clenched tight as his shoulders continued to shake.

“No, look at me, open your eyes. I’m here. You’re safe. Breathe, Tripp, breathe. Please.”

Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes and I hated that my actions had caused this. That this strong, protective man was gasping for air, fighting off an invisible panic because of something I’d done.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered brokenly, urging him to look at me. “Please open your eyes. Focus on me. Focus on my voice and my face. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Taking deep breaths, I continued to rub my thumbs across his strong cheekbones, hoping he’d just look at me and realize he wasn’t alone. That he was okay. That he’d saved me.

After a few moments, his eyes slowly drifted open, but I could tell he was stuck deep in the panic attack as they frantically scanned my face, his breathing still labored. I was afraid if he didn’t calm down, he’d hyperventilate and pass out.

Out of sheer panic, I leaned in, pulling him to meet me halfway, and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t respond, his harsh intake of breath coasting over my lips before I leaned in again and pressed a little harder, trying to do something— anything —to bring him back to me.

When he didn’t respond, I froze, my lips still burning from where they were nestled against his lush mouth.

Then my own panic set in. Oh my God, I just mauled a stranger. Well, he wasn’t exactly a stranger. He’d spent enough time with me yesterday, so I guess we were past the stranger phase.

We’d had a stilted one-sided conversation first thing in the morning, followed with him bailing me out during the festival by jumping in to help serve people when the line at the distillery’s booth got too long for me to handle.

He’d seen my harried expression from across the aisle of crowded booths and came to my rescue.

He’d steered me away from disaster multiple times now. And I was just returning the favor.

I recognized the signs of a panic attack. I’d helped pull Reese out of a few when we were younger. Although I’d never kissed my sister to pull her out of that panic spiral, so I guess I couldn’t exactly equate the two methods.

“I’m so sor…”

I didn’t even get the word sorry out again before two large, calloused palms were framing my soot covered cheeks and pulling me forward.

Tripp hesitated for a fraction of a second before he was tilting his head and plunging his tongue past my lips. Falling forward, I braced my palms on his muscular chest, my fingers itching to dig into the solid muscles as he groaned into my mouth and nipped at my bottom lip.

The frantic, wheezing man from moments before was gone, replaced by a man as crazed as the fire we’d narrowly escaped.

I could have died in that truck waiting for the search and rescue, but like something out of one of my grandmother’s old harlequin novels, there he was.

A man, whose face was obscured by a bandana, pulling me out and practically throwing me onto the back of his horse before he rode off toward the sunset that had been nearly drowned out by smoke.

The attraction I’d sensed the night before flared brightly, burning between us as he sat upright and hauled me into his lap, his lips coasting down my throat before his teeth sunk into my collarbone.

“Fuck,” he grunted into my neck as I rocked in his lap, the layers of rough denim pressing against me in a way that sent sparks racing up my spine.

It was like I was being consumed by him, the rough scrape of his facial hair marking my neck as he kissed me and pressed his hips into my movements.