Molly:

“No, no, no,” I whine into my cellphone. “Do you have to?”

“I’m sorry, Molly,” Cheryl says. “Allie is puking everywhere. Says she tried some sort of juice cleanse, but I’m guessing that means she went overboard at the vineyard last night. I’m so mad! My one day off this week!”

Cheryl and I had a big day of adventure planned. I have been overwhelmed lately with little fluff pieces to write, and after a weeklong binge of articles about twelve creative ways to eat more vegetables and twenty-nine things under fifteen dollars that will change your life, I need to go out into the woods and turn my brain off.

“Will you text me the map at least?” I ask her. She’s been talking up this giant rock formation on the lake for a few weeks now. The plan was to do the three-mile hike out there, spend the day swimming and snacking and sunbathing, and then hike back. I can still go without her. I’ll just bring a book or something and unwind alone.

“You sure you wanna go by yourself?” she asks.

“Well, I’d much rather go with you, but I guess that’s not an option. I’ll take Dolly with me. Don’t worry.”

“You guys are so cute. I’ll text you the map. You better send me some pics!”

I get off the phone with her and pack up my backpack with some snacks, some water, and a couple trashy romance novels and a few beers just for fun. I make sure I have food and water for Dolly, and hook her up to her leash.

My tiny little Mini Pinscher of mine might only weigh about twelve pounds, but she can hold her own out on the trails. She runs herself into a frenzy and I might have to carry her home if I let her get too exhausted. She makes for good company, is good with kids, and is better at reading people than I am. She has one of those senses for dangerous people. Dolly doesn’t give a care if it’s a person two times my size, she’ll bark and snap and go nuts until they leave me alone or I call her off.

I just want to keep her on the leash until I hit the trailhead, then after that I can cut her loose. She never disappears for too long, never wants to leave me alone. I bring up the trail map that Cheryl sent me on my phone. Nothing too intense as far as navigation goes; I’m basically just hiking in a straight line, but that straight line goes right up a hill.

What starts off as a fire road quickly turns into single track, steep hand over foot climbs on stretches of rocky shale. It’s kind of sketchy, but I don’t mind a challenge, and I could definitely use a workout after a week of being mostly sedentary.

Dolly keeps up just fine, sometimes running off the trail to go smell or explore, but always back on my heels before too long. I’m definitely working up a sweat in my running shorts and t-shirt, my hair damp and my face red with exertion. My quads burn as I work my way up the hill at an alarmingly slow pace, and I smile, looking down at my fitness watch when it dings and says I burned my goal calories for the day.

This can of beer and chocolate chip muffin I have in my backpack are going to taste really freaking delicious when I get to the rocks. I might even be able to order a pizza for dinner tonight when I get back to my bus. My watch chirps again and I look down at it, and in that one second of not paying attention to the trail in front of me, I feel the throbbing pain shoot through my big toe as I trip on a rock.

“Fuck!” I yell out to no one in particular, trying to catch my balance.

After that, everything starts moving in slow motion. I definitely don’t want to fall down this hill I’ve been climbing. I can’t imagine where I’ll land, but the ride down will definitely not be smooth. I try and roll to the brush on the side, landing on my ass with a thud.

That’s when the tears start. My toe is throbbing and I brush gravel mixed with my blood out of my hands. My heart is racing with adrenaline. I’m thrilled I didn’t fall further or harder, but startled by my stupidity.

Dolly comes running to me, her ears pointed straight up in alarm.

“It’s gonna be ok,” I whisper to her between sobs. “We’re ok.”

I try to stand up, but my left ankle sends pain through my entire leg the second I put any weight on it. As I look down at it, I start bawling even harder. There’s a lump about the size of an orange on it already, and it’s a lovely shade of purple and green. “This is not good,” I whine. “Shit.”

I pull out my cellphone, and of course there’s no service here. I might be able to get an emergency call through if I try hard enough, but I am a lowly freelancer. I don’t have health insurance. I can only imagine how much it would cost to get a rescue team out here to carry my ass back down this hill.

Maybe if I just rest a little bit, I think. I soak my bandana in water from my thermos and wrap it around my sore ankle, the cold helping to abate the pain almost instantly. I fill a little dish of water for Molly and pull out my beer and muffin from my backpack. Maybe it’s not the most logical thing to do in a time of emergency, but as long as the alcohol takes the edge off, I can probably just power through until I get down the hill far enough to call someone for help. I’m really not more than a couple miles up. Down will be much easier, even with an injured leg, and I can see that the swelling isn’t getting any worse. That’s a start. No need to panic.

As an accident-prone woman living on her own, this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen over my feet. In fact, my tendency to fall a lot probably saved my life because I’m really good at doing it. I laugh and pull out some beef jerky from my backpack to see if Dolly wants a snack, too.

She must have wandered.

“Dolly!” I shout. “Do you want a treat?”

I listen for her footsteps. She usually makes a hell of a racket when she tears through the woods, nothing graceful about that dog, just like her mother, but I’m not hearing anything. “Dolly!” I shout louder.

I try to stand up to go look for her, but my leg doesn’t want to work. The only thing I can do is just sit here and wait it out. She’ll be back. She always comes back, I try and convince myself through my worried tears.

A warm wet tongue on my face awakens me from my slumber. I can’t believe I dozed off.

“Oh come on, Dolly. One more hour,” I say groggily, patting her squirming little body with my hand.

Wait a minute, I think. Something isn’t right here.

My ankle is throbbing and I feel sunburned from head to toe. My mouth is dry and my stomach is growling. I blink open my eyes and assume I must be hallucinating.

Standing before me is a mountain of a man. He’s got that sun-kissed skin that looks like he works outside all day, and his shirtless torso is covered in tattoos that do very little to hide his ripped abs. He crouches down beside me and my heart skips a beat.

“I don’t have any money on me,” I try and stutter, but the look in his piercing blue eyes tells me that’s not what he’s looking for. He looks… gentle almost, sensitive. Concerned. His face is covered in a long blond beard, a true mountain man, with long, dirty blond hair that looks like something I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through. He smells like fresh cut grass and something citrusy, like a breath of fresh air just breezed into my life.

He puts his hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I don’t want anything.”

I try to stifle a gasp as I read the tattoo on his hand.

Vagrant in bold black letters.

He’s one of them.

But his teeth are so white, so straight. He’s so clean. He doesn’t look like some dirty bum that lives on the streets. He looks like the male stripper version of a lumberjack.

“Is this your dog?” he asks me. Dolly is dancing on my chest, making happy circles as she chases her tail. I don’t know what hurts worse, my throbbing leg or her affinity for smashing my boobs. “Dumb question,” he says, correcting himself, smiling as she sprawls out on my stomach.

I let out a groan, trying to sit up. “You gotta move, Dolly.”

“Dolly, huh? Like the queen of country music?”

“I honestly have no idea. She was three when I adopted her. Already named.” I reach out my hand to shake his. “I’m Molly by the way.”

“Molly and Dolly,” he chuckles. “That’s cute. I’m Tucker.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I sincerely mean it. I’m doing my best not to stare, but the more I look at him, the more I realize every inch of this man’s body is perfect. “I’m sorry if she was bothering you.”

“It’s no bother at all. I was just up the trail a little bit and she came sprinting right at me out of nowhere. I figured she belonged to somebody. Her pink rhinestone collar tipped me off. She looks like a princess.”

“She sure is,” I laugh. “Me on the other hand…” I am suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look right now. I’m filthy. Covered in blood. I smell like I’m about a week overdue for a shower, and I am pulling twigs out of my hair. He probably thinks I’m nuts. “Well, I’m a hot mess right now.”

I can tell by his smirk that he’s trying not to laugh at me.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “What happened?”

“I must have tripped and rolled my ankle. I’ll be fine,” I assure him. I nearly jump out of my skin as he pulls the bandana off my swollen ankle, not because it hurts. Well, it kind of hurts. But honestly, he could touch me anywhere and anyway he wanted.

“You ok?” he asks, noticing my inability to sit still and let him check out my wound. He feels my forehead with the back of his hand, and when he runs his hand through my hair I almost pass out. His touch is so firm but so caring. There’s something electric about the way he puts his hands on my body; it’s so sensual and he’s not even trying. He’s just trying to make sure I don’t have a concussion.

Hell, the way I’m fighting back trying not to drool on him, makes me question whether or not I hit my head on the way down. It’s not like me to be so cool with strangers. I’ve lived on my own long enough to know I need to protect myself.

The way that Dolly is sitting there watching him, wagging her little nub of a tail sporadically lets me know this guy is ok.

He’s staring me down, waiting for an answer, and I have to will myself to blink. I just want to get lost in those big blue eyes of his.

Use your words, Molly, I think to myself.

“Yes,” I assure him. “I’ll be ok. I’m sure as soon as I start moving I’ll be fine.”

“Listen girl,” he sighs. “You’re not going anywhere like that. Your boyfriend know you’re out here all alone?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I stutter without thinking.

“Good,” he says, and without so much as another word or warning, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder effortlessly. He’s got his arm wrapped around the back of my thighs, and even as he bends down to pick up my backpack for me, I feel like he doesn’t waver.

“You really don’t have to do this,” I say, unsure of what to think. On one hand, being swept up in a sexy stranger’s arms is like something out of the dirty books I love to read, but on the other hand, real life situations like this have a tendency to end up more like an episode of Dateline NBC. “I swear, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s gonna get dark here soon,” he warns. “You’re injured. Dolly is a damn fine dog, but I highly doubt she’s gonna be able to fight off anything that tries to attack you. Don’t put that on her. Let me help you.”

There’s really not much I can do at this point except try not to move too much. It’s not like I’m some sort of petite little thing. I might be fit, but I realize how strong this man has to be to even pick me up, let alone carry me home.

“You live down there?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Dolly knows the way.”

“Well alright,” he says. “Come on, Dolly. Let’s go home.”

The trip down the mountain was very uneventful thankfully. My heart was pounding through my ribcage the whole way, thinking about this tall, sexy stranger who has me draped over his shoulder like I’m a bag of feathers. We stopped to rest a couple times, and I insisted that I could hold my own, that I’d be perfectly fine, but he saw the way I winced when I tried to put pressure on my leg and he insisted.

I know I shouldn’t be so turned on by the way his hand is cupping the back of my thigh. I know it’s silly and he’s just being a gentleman for whatever reason. Who knows, maybe he just thinks I’ll give him some money or something. Maybe he’s an axe murderer. All I know is I’m kind of enjoying the view of his ass in those tight jeans.

When we hit the trailhead, he stops, helping me to the ground. Standing by his side, I’m amazed once again at how much taller he is than I am.

“You parked nearby?” he asks. Using his arm as a crutch, I balance on one leg, turning my ankle in circles. The pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was before, but when I try to put pressure on it, I grimace.

“I walked,” I groan.

“I don’t know my way around town too well,” he says. “Do you want to call a taxi or something?”

I don’t want him to leave my side. I can tell he’s reluctant to go out into town, and I understand. It’s getting dark, and I doubt anyone is going to see us. Plus, I want to get to know him a little better.

For your story, I tell myself. Right. For my story.

Truth is, Tucker is the kind of guy who I would have no problem with sharing a night of hot sex with. It’s been a long time for me. The fact that he doesn’t have any interest being in town is a plus, too. It just means I don’t have to worry about running into him on the street and trying to make casual small talk. He seems like a man of few words, but I can tell by the way he could throw me over his shoulder with ease that he’s probably a blast in the bedroom.

If he wants to see his way out the door of my bus before I wake up in the morning, even better.

“Can you help me put Dolly on her leash?” I ask. I don’t want to get in trouble letting her free roam down the street. “I’m not really far from here. Why don’t you come with me? You’ve gotta be starving. The least I can do is offer you dinner. For all your help.”