“I imagined body heat and racing pulses,” Maggie agreed. She tipped her face until she and Dean were close enough to share breaths. “But the shooting pain ruins the fun.”
“No offense, Babs, but if my pulse is racing, it’s because I’m about to carry you down a mountain in a hurricane.”
“Don’t exaggerate. The trail is basically flat.”
“Seriously?” Dean grinned and rubbed their noses together. “No accolades from my fair lady for my heroic feats?”
“Ask me again when we get out of this rain.” Maggie turned her face into his chest as Dean laughed.
The rest of the hike took longer than the trek out, but Dean didn’t complain. She talked him through parts of her book, and he detailed the foods they were going to order the minute the restaurant was in sight. The rain still hadn’t calmed when the trail head became visible. Dean had carried her all the way down a mountain, and she hadn’t spent a single moment contemplating the solid mass of his chest or the strength of his arms. Maggie would have kicked herself if her ankle didn’t hurt so damn bad.
“Food?” Dean asked, and Maggie nodded.
With Dean still holding her, Maggie pulled open the heavy front door of the Wayfarer Inn and they staggered into the dimly lit entrance. The front desk sat next to the entrance to the café with a snow-haired woman reading behind the counter.
“Two for lunch,” Dean jostled Maggie to reposition her in arms that must’ve been screaming.
“I’m glad you made it back, dearies.” The elderly woman didn’t look up from her book. “The storm’s closed the roads, so you won’t be able to get out of here anytime soon. Things might open again tomorrow morning.” She turned a page in her book. “This happens a lot up here. Trees fall, the road washes out. They don’t want anyone skidding off the mountain.”
“I suppose we’ll take two rooms then, too.” Dean said.
“Only have one left.” The lady said, turning another page.
“One room then,” Dean said and to Maggie he added, “If that’s okay with you?”
And if it wasn’t, would he offer to sleep in his car? Maggie tried to control her giggle, but she was sure Dean could feel the hitch of her shoulders.
“As long as you’re okay with the fact that there will only be one bed,” Maggie said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there’s always only one bed, Dean. That’s just how these things go.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Shehadbeenright,of course. The room had only one bed. That wasn’t a total surprise, not in such an old building, but everything was clean, the bed neatly made, and the bathroom scented with cleaning solution. The window overlooked the pine forest with the distant peaks. Maggie couldn’t have written a better scene for a romance novel if she’d tried.
Dean set her on top of the wide, cherry wood dresser. Water from their sodden clothes dripped into twin pools on the bureau’s top and onto the hardwood floor. He dropped the backpack on the floor and unzipped his raincoat before he kneeled in front of Maggie and unlaced her sneaker with cautious fingers.
“I can do that,” she said.
Dean glanced up at her with an incredulous look. He dropped the muddy sneaker to the floor and peeled down her sock.
Maggie’s ankle was purple and puffy, although the dull throb had subsided into an almost tingling sensation. That was almost worse, because the lack of pain kept lulling her into the stupid belief that she could move her foot.
“Stop trying to wiggle your toes.” Dean unwrapped the bandage and the cold pack the lady at the front desk had given them. “It hurts just watching you.” He reached for the towel he’d grabbed from the bathroom and dried her ankle with careful circles before wrapping the bandage around the arch of her foot and looping it up around her ankle.
“You’ve done this before.” The stretchy bandage was tight against Maggie’s joint, and at least it was helping with the reminder to stay still.
“I can’t remember the last time I wrapped someone else’s ankles, but I’ve wrapped my own more times than I can count.” Dean secured the Velcro and lifted his head up to meet Maggie’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I brought you here for a beautiful hike and instead you’re injured, soaking wet, and trapped in a hotel room with me.”
“It’s not all bad.” Maggie smiled down into his handsome face. “This is literally a scene from a romance novel.”
“One of yours?”
“More like every novel ever written, Dean.”
“How is this like a romance novel?”