Page 9 of Searching for Bristol
She might trust him, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. He was still a man, after all. One who could easily overpower her. She was no match for him in her condition, especially considering how muscular and tall he was. Not to mention, she hadn’t missed his reference to being in the Navy…with her luck, he was probably a SEAL or something, and knew a hundred and one ways to kill someone and not leave a trace behind afterward.
“Don’t be scared of me,” he said quietly, even as he leaned away from her.
Bristol took a deep inhale. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“And don’t apologize either.”
Now she huffed out an irritated breath. “WhatcanI do then?” she asked.
“Hang tough,” he said without hesitation. “I wasn’t kidding, getting out of here is gonna suck. I can carry you, but it’s not going to be comfortable for you.”
“And it will be foryou?” she asked.
“Nope. But I’m not the one with a hurt leg, butt, hands, elbows, side, and head.”
He had a good point. “I’ll be okay. The alternative is to scoot out of here for six miles on my ass, and trust me, that wasn’t much fun either.”
Rocky smiled and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m smiling. More, I can’t believeyou’resmiling.”
“Do I have a choice?” she asked seriously. “I could be crying, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. I could be pissed at myself, or at you, but that’d just be stupid, since you’re the one who’s gonna get me out of here. I could be freaked out, but again, that wouldn’t help. I can promise Iwilldo all of those things later—except be mad at you, because that’s just not going to happen—if it would make you feel better.”
“Naw, I think I’m good. You ready to go?”
“Yes!” But then she frowned. “How’s this gonna work?”
Rocky was already moving. He gently eased her pack off her back and unzipped it.
“Rocky?”
“Yeah?” he asked, as he began to unpack her things.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t carry you while you’re wearing your pack, so I need to move your stuff to mine. Give me a second.”
“Leave it.”
He looked up at that. “What?”
Bristol nodded. “Just leave it. The Bigfoots can have it. Or is it Bigfeet? What’s the plural?”
For some reason, Rocky laughed. Hard.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that my friend’s fiancée’s son once asked him the same thing. He asked me what I thought, and we actually had a twenty-minute conversation about the English language and plurals.”
“What was your conclusion about Bigfoot?” Bristol asked with a smile.
“We still have no idea. But I’m not leaving your stuff. It’ll all fit in my backpack. I didn’t load it up for my trip out here because, like an idiot, I figured I’d just be gone one night on an easy trip. I’m not leaving your underwear out here for some Sheepsquatch to find and perv on.”
“A what?” Bristol asked, watching him pack his bag with her things.
“Sheepsquatch. I hadn’t heard of them until I moved here either. Apparently, they’re wooly-haired, with a long and pointed head, saber-like teeth, and of course, they have horns like a goat. They walk on two feet, have a hairless tail like a possum, are as big as a bear, and smell musky, kinda like a skunk.”
“What the heck?” Bristol asked, completely confused.
Rocky chuckled. “Right? It’s supposedly been seen in Kentucky, but also over in Fulks Run, Virginia. I think I’d rather Fallport be known for Bigfoot than Sheepsquatch.”
