* * *

Walk With Me

By Abby Knox

Logan breathed in the desert air and felt as if he was about to have a breakthrough.

But he only explored these thoughts for about 90 seconds, because suddenly another person's presence cut through the majesty of this incredible canyon vista.

The sound of the other visitor's lone footsteps assaulted and clouded his mind immediately. Based on his wilderness expertise, he knew right away it was the sound of a female approaching. A woman struggling under the weight of an over-filled backpack and not enough sense to turn back to the safety of the trailhead.

He sighed to himself and stayed put, determined not to let some stranger interrupt his moment of clarity.

But... something made him pause anyway. He turned to look, just to check if she was injured or appeared dehydrated and in need of help. His job always came first.

The hiker who approached him was so far beyond the scope of his job description, however, that he forgot where he was for a second.

The first thing he saw was her tanned, curvy legs, legs that were a shape more typical of a mid-Century pin-up model than a young female canyon explorer. Oh, but there was so much more going on with her that was not typical of his usual crowd of outdoorsy folks. Her entire outfit was totally inappropriate for this punishing environment.

Her designer camo shorts had a weird, frilly, lacy thing at the hem, accenting her soft, voluptuous thighs. Above them, there was the midriff top, revealing a navel hoop ring that made his reptile brain wonder where else she might have a sexy piercing. Her hair was all curls of sandy blonde, tied up in a top knot at the crown of her head. She wore huge tortoiseshell sunglasses that hid her eyes. All Logan could see of her face was its heart shape, a sassy little chin and full lips.

But maybe the cutest thing about her was that when her gaze connected with his through those sunglasses of hers, she straightened her posture under the weight of her ill-fitted backpack and sucked in her tummy.

It pierced his heart a little bit to see that. The fact that any woman, especially this woman, felt shamed enough by her body to adjust her soft appearance around him was too much to handle.

Keep it in your pants buddy, and do your job, said his rational brain.

The woman spoke first.

"Can you even handle it? We're in the canyon! Actually inside it! Fucking amazing, am I right?"

Well that was that. Her voice could be compared to that of a cute cartoon animal. She was like Minnie Mouse with the vocabulary of a sailor on leave. Her entire demeanor was pure and feminine and joyful beyond reason. And also wrong, wrong, wrong. She should not be here. She should turn back immediately, and Logan opened his mouth to say so.

"I work here."

Inside, he kicked himself over his lack of charm.

"Wow, a park ranger! Cool! Then you must be totally overwhelmed by the views every single day. And this desert air! You're so lucky. All I get to see is the inside of a cubicle and let me tell you, it doesn't smell particularly great, either. My crime reporter is a hoarder and I think there's a flat-cat under his stacks of old newspapers."

Logan did not register anything she had said, but his ears and his libido sure enjoyed the sound of her voice.

"Hello? Flat-cat got your tongue?" she said, one full, questioning eyebrow arching above the top of her sunglasses.

"Excuse me?" Logan replied, embarrassed.

"That was a joke. Nevermind, park ranger. Here." She took his hand in hers and he thought for a moment she was making a move on him. His rejoicing was immeasurable for that split second, until he realized what was happening. She pushed her phone into his palm and then dumped her backpack on the ground.

"I need to you take a photo of me on the overlook, without that ridiculous backpack. Thanks, buddy, I appreciate it."'

Logan would do whatever this woman asked him to do. He suspected that was the case with any man in his right mind.

When he aimed the camera lens at her, she asked him to count down when he was ready.

He cheated. He snapped several of her before she could suck in her tummy, fix her hair, fix her smile, do the typical things. She was perfect the way she was and she didn't even know it. And he wanted her to see what he saw.

Even watching her through the camera screen, Logan was toast. "Ok, ready. On three..."

In the screen, he saw her turn on her bright smile, stand with one juicy, child-bearing hip jutting out. "Oh, hang on," she said. She removed her sunglasses and he could finally see her baby blues. Eyelashes for days.

Since when had Logan cared about child-bearing hips? Why would he want to bring children into this world after the mess he’d made of his life?

But there was something primal speaking to him, through her. He didn't even know her name but ... something was inside her, reaching out to him. Was this just basic chemistry or something else?

She rolled her shoulders back and stuck out her ample chest for her photo shoot. Game over.

All Logan could do was think of lifting her down off the overlook boulder, sweeping her down to the ground and grinding himself against every delicious curve of hers, under the wide open sky for every passing hiker and mule caravan to see. This was it. She was his, and that might as well be the end of the story for him. Too bad he was an extreme dork with a lack of vocabulary. No doubt she had zero interest in taking him to pleasure town.

The reality was, he would have to commit the sight, sound and smell — vanilla and cedar — of her to his spank bank. He could hardly stand the idea that he would be alone in the ranger station that night at the bottom of the canyon.

Yeah. Nothing about what was happening here was in his job description. But it was human nature, calling him to obey. And who was he to resist?

* * *

Sex is a powerful motivator, so Ever had managed to stay within sight of this sexy stranger all morning without him noticing. It was sort of like a guided hike, but much cheaper.

Now, standing on a boulder on the overlook, this incredible man was actually holding her phone in his beautiful, experienced hands, looking at her and taking her picture. She felt self-conscious and sucked in her belly, stuck out her hip to one side, fidgeted, took off her sunglasses, stuck out her chest, adjusted her chin. Ever did everything she knew how to do to hide her fleshy bits and accent her nicer bits.

Up until now, this park ranger had only been a momentary sex object. But now that she was watching him stare at her image in her phone's screen, something else was happening.

His face changed when she took off her sunglasses. Was he blushing? His lips parted slightly and his eyebrows softened. There was a slight hint of a smile. Far different from the seriousness with which he warned the various hikers at the trail head that morning. Man, she wished she could see his eyes behind those trendy aviator sunglasses he wore.

He snapped the photo and his entire demeanor changed back to officious and intimidating.

The ranger stepped over to where Ever stood on the rocks, reaching up to return her phone to her.

What happened next only took place in a few seconds, but she would remember them as the longest and most terrifying few seconds of her life. As Ever was admiring the ripple of male muscles under all that khaki, her mind wandered, and her foot slipped.

Stupid, overpriced hiking boots, she thought.

Ever stumbled a bit, correcting herself by trying to fall forward over the boulder. The sexy ranger let go of her phone to grab on to her forearms to steady her. She instinctively turned her head only for a slight moment to regretfully watch her smartphone tumble down the cliff, and a piece of the ancient boulder gave way under her boots and she fell straight down.

She opened her mouth to let out a scream but no sound came out.

She'd read about this exact thing. Several people had died along this trail in recent months, two of them right here at the overlook, from this very spot on this very boulder, probably. On one hand, Ever had made progress conquering her fear of the great outdoors, having bravely clambered up the rock for her victorious photo shoot. But this super hot man she was essentially stalking through the canyon had made her forget what a sheer drop it was underneath that boulder. Several hundred feet.

Welp. If I'm going to die, I'm glad it's at least in the most beautiful place on the face of the earth, and the last thing I saw was the most beautiful man on earth, she thought.

But the beautiful man apparently did not see things that way. His hands stayed locked on her forearms even as gravity determined to pull her down. There is no way he can hold me, she thought.

She thought wrong.

Ever likewise gripped his forearms as her feet scrambled against the crumbling cliffside.

"Don't look down," he said to her. "Look at me."

Ever obeyed. Her feet stopped their frantic scrambling, her heart stopped palpitating, and instead she focused on the ranger's face. His black furrowed eyebrows. The tension in his forehead. His face was utter determination. He was going to save her. Then she saw herself reflecting back in his aviators. That's me. I can do this.

This wasn't exactly what she had had in mind that morning when she'd decided to stalk him through the canyon just so she wouldn't be alone in the wilderness without a clue. She put all that out of her mind because she saw the kind of genuine concern that most people only pretend to have for other people.

He doesn't care a thing about himself. It doesn't matter how far I fall, this person would try to help me.

And the next thing Ever knew, she was safe. She was no longer falling to her death. She was instead falling for the sensation of this park ranger's insanely muscular arms around her waist. He had her. Like she was the weight of a feather.

She soon realized her feet were still not touching the ground.

What was happening? Were they falling together? She was basically OK with that, too.

But no, her feet were off the ground because the ranger had her so fully in his arms he was actually lifting her up and pressing her body flat against his.

"Whoa, there," he said, turning her away from the boulder and setting her down on terra firma.

He failed to let go of his grip immediately, though, and Ever sensed something oozing off of him as his gaze met hers. His stare was hard to read, but impossible to look away from.

His gaze seared deeply into her chest and kept going. All the way down. So far down, her sex fluttered open.

He was really hesitating letting her go.

Was this happening? Or was it just one of the desert's tricky optical illusions? she wondered.

Ever might dismiss all of that conjecture, if it weren't for another thing. She was certain, as he held her against his sculpted body, that was not a National Parks standard-issue flashlight in his pocket.