Page 7 of Make It Last

The moment he closed the door, I felt a wave of vulnerability, an unsettling tightness behind my ribs. I wasn’t sure what it was about. Maybe the broken ankle or maybe the fact that I'd just been hauled down a mountain like a glorified backpack, but I felt exposed.

Tanner even reached over and made sure I’d buckled my seat belt before he closed the passenger door. Who was this man? He was solicitous, chivalrous, the kind of guy they didn’t make anymore. I loved it.

Not that it took much to impress me these days. My standards were in the basement. I’d been engaged and married to a guy who treated me like an afterthought for our entire relationship. I had even married that man because it felt like the right thing to do. Like a checkbox on the to-do list of life. Tanner rounded the front of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, and I had to suppress another sigh.

He was the quintessential Alaskan outdoorsman—rugged and sexy and completely oblivious to all of it. I was pretty sure the man had no clue how hot he was. He was also way out of my league, somewhere out in the stratosphere. Not to mention, I wasn’t dating anyone ever again. My inner guard dog—a very cynical one—growled to life. You promised no more broken hearts, no more falling for unavailable or inappropriate men. You’ve got this life all on your own, Ava.

I wanted to ask Tanner a hundred questions during the drive, but he fielded two calls from dispatch, and I decided it was best to keep quiet, to breathe and try not to panic about how messed up my ankle might be. A few minutes later, as we rolled down the main street of town, I felt his gaze flick over to me. I glanced back at him.

My stomach flipped, and sparks scattered through me. I cleared my throat.

“You’re pretty quiet, Ava,” he said.

“What do you mean? I was trying to be polite. You were taking business calls.”

When he chuckled, the sound vibrated through me. “Business calls?”

“Yeah. You talked to dispatch. You told her you’d picked me up, and then she told you about another rescue.”

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “How’s your pain?”

I wanted to wiggle my foot, but my brain—sensible for once—told me that was a very bad idea. I inhaled slowly. “Well, it’s throbbing.”

He glanced my way again as he rolled to a stop at the light. When our eyes met, the concern in his gaze nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. I didn’t even know what to do with that kind of concern. My cheating, emotionally bankrupt ex wouldn’t have cared if I’d walked around on a broken ankle for a week. This man, this stranger in the truck beside me, had paid more attention to me in the last forty-five minutes than my ex had in the past four years.

Why? my brain whispered.

I didn’t need to ask myself that. I knew why. But those were thoughts for another day. I had plenty of time ahead of me to marinate in regret and humiliation.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“Tell me honestly—how bad do you think my ankle’s broken?” I pressed.

His tone was carefully neutral. “I’m not sure. You definitely broke it.”

“But it’s for sure broken,” I pressed.

“It feels broken.”

I laughed. “You are a careful man, Tanner.”

His lips quirked at the side, and my belly did a little shimmy.

My gaze slid to his hand, resting on the top of the steering wheel. He had strong-looking hands. One forearm had a faint smear of dirt. I imagined calluses and just how they might feel on my skin. Things I shouldn’t be imagining.

Ava, my inner voice snapped. We don’t fall for men. Especially not hot Alaskan rescue gods we’re never going to see again. That’s not what we do. I internally rolled my eyes.

“I’m just trying to be honest with you,” he said. “I think you need an X-ray.”

I sighed. “I was kind of hoping you’d lie to me.”

“How do you know it’s broken?” he countered.

“Because I felt it break.”

“We’ll get you to the hospital. They’ll do an X-ray, and you’ll be in good hands.”

“You have a lot of faith, Tanner.”