Page 15 of Rescuing His Kitten
We climb the stairs together up to the first platform. The higher we go, the more my legs turn into jelly. West stays beside me, matching my pace, never rushing.
“You know, I don’t trust stairs. They’re always up to something.”
“What?” I snort a laugh.
“Just saying.” He shrugs. “But I have a confession.”
Oh shit. That’s never good. “What?”
“I’m not actually afraid of heights.”
“Seriously?!”
He gives me a sheepish expression. “I’m afraid of the sudden stop at the bottom.”
“Oh my god,” I laugh. “Have you been hanging out with my dad?”
I have to admit, West’s dad jokes are pretty good.
“Whatever works.” He motions to the platform, and I realize we made it to the top. I hadn’t noticed because I was too busy wrapped up in West’s silly jokes. He’s good, too good.
West steps closer, his gaze dropping to my harness. He reaches out, fingers brushing the straps at my shoulders, then following them down to where they clip at my waist. His touch is methodical, thorough, and sends a completely inappropriate thrill through my body.
“These look tight enough,” he mutters. He tugs at a strap near my hip, testing the give, then frowns. “Actually, let’s do another thorough check?—”
“I can do that,” the platform guide Jake says, stepping forward. He’s maybe in his mid-twenties with sun-bleached hair.
Jake reaches for my harness, fingers hooking into the straps at my chest to check the tension. West’s expression shifts so fast I almost miss it. His shoulders go rigid, and his jaw tightens. When Jake moves to adjust the thigh straps, West clears his throat, and it’s a deliberate sound.
“That’s enough,” West says, and his voice has dropped deeper. It carries an edge I hadn’t heard before.
Jake pauses with his hands hovering next to my hips. His eyes go wide as he looks between us. “I thought you wanted me to…”
“I got it.” West steps between us, blocking Jake from my line of sight.
The next thing I know, West is checking the same straps and clips, but his movements are precise and possessive. “She’s good.”
Jake raises his eyebrows, looking between us. “Okay then. Now all I have to do is clip you both to the line.”
He demonstrates how the safety line works, and I’m grateful West is listening. His hands are still resting on my harness, his thumbs brushing absently against my hips like he can’t quite stop touching me. It makes it hard for me to pay attention to anything anyone is saying.
“Any questions?” Jake asks.
“Nope,” West says before I can answer. “We’re ready.”
Jake clips us in, then steps back. “The first one is the scariest. After that, it’s smooth sailing.” I nod, but I’m not sure I fully believe him. Nothing about this is going to be smooth. But I got this. Maybe. Then he starts counting, and I know I’m literally out of time. “On three, you’ll push off together. Keep your feet up until you hit the next platform.”
He positions us at the edge, and the cable stretches out before me. My knees threaten to buckle as Jake counts us off.
“One,” Jake says.
“Why is it always on three?” I blurt out. I’m one hundred percent stalling.
West’s hand finds mine, our fingers threading together.
“We can go on two if you’d rather.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just do it.”
