The high prairie of Wyoming looked a little bit like Afghanistan to Jonathan Cross. Maybe. If he tilted his head to the side and squinted. It had the same color scheme. But Wyoming didn’t feel a thing like Afghanistan, and that was all that mattered.

Jonathan hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and drew in a deep breath. He focused on the horizon, on the ribbon of the Green River as it wound through the gorge where he hiked. There was something deeply peaceful about the sweeping prairie, a thick quiet that settled over everything. He’d taken the position with Paradise Space Flight in Haskell specifically for the quiet, the calm, the tiny population. It was the best decision he’d made in a decade. People were not exactly his thing. At least, not in large numbers, like Chicago. His parents still bugged him to move back to the Midwest on an almost weekly basis, but no way.

He rounded a corner where the river rushed around one of the outcrops that defined the gulch and stopped. On the side of the river that he walked, the strip of riverbank he’d been hiking all but disappeared as the water flowed right against the cliff’s side. He glanced up, studying the rock face, judging whether he could climb it or whether it would be a better idea to go back and walk around. A wave of dusty, old fear bit at him. Flashes of leading his men through desert passes and praying there were no IEDs or snipers taking aim at them burned in his mind.

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Ran through the exercises his counselor had given him when he returned from active duty. He breathed again. Reminded himself of how lucky he was that the war had only left him with bad memories and bouts of anxiety instead of full-on PTSD, like some of the men he’d served with. He was the lucky one, and he was damn sure he would remember that.

Up. The only way to go was up. In more ways than one. He marched to the cliff and looked for hand- and foot-holds. He’d always liked rock-climbing, even as a kid. The sense of accomplishment that getting to the top gave him was exhilarating. He liked to carry that feeling through to the work he did. And at the moment, there was tons going on at PSF for him to get excited about.

Tons for him to feed his anxiety over too, though. He pulled himself up the rock face, focusing on grip and purchase. His boss, Howard F. Haskell, IV, or Howie, as he liked to be called, was so jazzed about the progress everyone was making with the Haskell I rocket that he’d decided they should do a test launch for the upcoming Founder’s Day celebration in December. He’d pushed through with all the permits he needed to launch a rocket of that caliber, although Jonathan had no idea how he’d managed it. Which meant that every team at PSF was suddenly responsible for a crap-ton more work than they thought they’d be doing that fall.

His nerves started to fray, so Jonathan paused halfway up the cliff, breathed, then threw his concentration into climbing. Only a few more feet to go. Piece of cake. The rocket would be ready in time too. It had almost a hundred people working like gangbusters to make sure everything was perfect. Howie would be happy. Everyone at PSF would be happy. And that’s all that mattered.

He reached the top, pulling himself up onto the path with a satisfying grunt. Rather than standing, he shifted to sit near the edge of the cliff, shrugging off his backpack. He searched for his water bottle and glanced out over the winding river. The climb had only been about twenty feet or so, but any accomplishment was a good accomplishment. And that’s what life was—one victory after another, no matter how small. Some days, the victories were as small as smiling at someone and getting a smile in return.

Actually, smiles were the biggest victories of all.

He laughed at himself, downing a few more swallows of water before capping his bottle. Military service hardened some people, ruined them. His time had made him a veritable Pollyanna, always looking for the silver lining. He didn’t know whether to shake his head at himself or to be proud of coming out of a shit-fest in one piece.

Yeah, he thought with a grin as he pushed himself to stand. He was proud.

“Help!”

A distant, muffled cry split through his thoughts. He lost his grin as he searched the surrounding area for the source of the cry.

“Seriously, help!”

A rush of adrenaline hit him, and he marched off at a fast walk, searching for whoever was in distress. The cry had come from a woman, which only made his instinct to find and protect pulse harder.

“Heeeelp!”

He was getting closer. Jonathan broke into a jog. When he spotted a pair of forearms barely clinging to the edge of a split in the cliff, he ran.

“I’ve got you,” he said when he reached the woman. He dropped to his knees, clasped her arms, and peered over the edge of the cliff to assess the situation.

Curly, strawberry blonde hair, bright, green eyes, and a mouth that he’d fantasized about kissing more nights than he cared to count. Calliope Clutterbuck.

“Jonathan?” She blinked up at him, surprise making her gorgeous eyes round. That vanished in a heartbeat as panic pinched back into her features. “Get me out of here,” she yelped.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He shifted so that he could brace himself while tugging her up. “Can you push off the cliff wall with your feet?”

“Maybe one of them,” Calliope answered, distressed. “I might have sprained one of my ankles.”

“Okay.” He changed his approach, reaching under her arms once he had her a few inches higher.

As soon as he had the right grip, it was easy to lift her out of the crevasse…and into his arms. Calliope’s breath came in deep, shaky swallows that accentuated her perfect shape. He drew her closer, using his body to steady and comfort her, and sending far more excitement through him than was reasonable, considering the situation he’d just rescued her from. But Calliope didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re safe,” he told her. “Back on terra firma. See?” He took a few steps away from the edge of the crevasse.

“Thanks,” she said, still breathing hard. Slowly, maybe even reluctantly, she peeled herself away from him. “Yikes.” She laughed, pushing her wild hair out of her face and looking back at the crevasse.

“How’s your ankle?” Jonathan asked. What he really wanted to say was something hokey, like “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Because as far as he was concerned, Calliope Clutterbuck was an angel. He’d thought so the first time he saw her, back in the spring during one of Howie’s mixers. He couldn’t even remember which one. All he remembered was that she’d been wearing some sort of blue, flowy, hippie dress, her hair giving him a new appreciation of the phrase “a riot of curls”. He’d have asked her out then—he’d have asked her out half a dozen times since then—but Howie kept roping him in to spearhead parts of his mixer competitions, the rocket team needed him for overtime, and, well, if he didn’t have his alone time, he wouldn’t be fit company for anyone.

Calliope put some weight on her ankle. She took a few steps. Her anxious grimace lifted, along with her eyebrows. “Huh. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s not great, mind you, but it’s not bad.”

Jonathan looked around. “How did you get out here?”

“I hiked.” She turned and pointed down the rough trail. “My car’s parked back there.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he said. “We can go slowly.”

Calliope glanced up at him, a strange look in her eyes. He had no idea at all what it could be about, but he had to admit, he liked her looking at him. Almost as much as he liked looking at her, dust, bruises and all. In fact, he wanted to look at her a lot longer and a lot closer.

“Melody’s never going to let me live this down,” she whispered, then hobbled into motion.

“What?” He jogged to retrieve his backpack, then fell into step by her side, setting a leisurely pace.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly, blushing.

The blush looked good on her. Jonathan smiled. The last, lingering bits of tension he’d been trying to shake with his hike drifted off, leaving him with nothing but the joy of finally getting more than two seconds on end to spend with Calliope.

“You know, it’s really not a good idea to go hiking by yourself in a place as remote as this,” he said.

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” Calliope burst, surprisingly angry, throwing her arms out and appealing to the heavens.

Jonathan didn’t have a clue what to make of her reaction. “Sorry?”

Calliope sighed, shook her head, and grasped the straps of her backpack. “It’s not you,” she said. “It’s the fact that I asked just about everyone I know to come on this hike with me, and everyone said no.”

“Oh.” What he wanted to say was “You could have called me up and asked me.” Not that he was on her radar, in all likelihood. “Well, I’m glad I came along when I did.”

“Me too,” she said, her cheeks flaring pink again. “And I shouldn’t have yelled just now. I’m just a little frustrated.”

“With hiking?”

“With the fact that every single one of my friends is married or dating now and I’m not. I feel left out of everything.” She snapped her mouth closed and sent him a sideways look. “And now you probably think that I’m a needy, selfish dweeb.”

Jonathan grinned. None of those descriptors were on his top fifty list of words he would use to describe Calliope Clutterbuck. “Gorgeous”, “sexy”, “funny”, and “warm” were pretty high up on the list, though.

“I do not think you’re a dweeb,” he said with a smile. “And believe me. I know. I’m pretty dweebish myself.”

She smirked. “You are not a dweeb.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen my stash of board games yet,” he joked. “Or my prized anime collection.”

“No!” Calliope snorted. He loved the way she giggled. It made her whole body shiver…which made him shiver for entirely different reasons.

“And remember, I have a master’s degree in Mathematics,” he went on. “That’s pretty dweeby.”

“A master’s in Math?” She blinked at him. “Like, just…math?”

“Yep. Differential equations, vector calculus, linear algebra, tensors.”

“Okay, so all the stuff that I haven’t the first clue about.” Calliope laughed.

“It comes in handy when you’re designing rockets and dabbling in astrophysics,” he said with a wink. And that made him the biggest dweeb of all.

Calliope didn’t seem to mind. “I never did very well at math. I was more of a social studies kind of girl.”

“I can believe that.” He smiled at her as they walked. The terrain had evened out, making it easier for Calliope to get by with her ankle. There were even a few other hikers within distance across the river from them.

“Why?” She eyed him sideways. “Because I’m social? Because I always have to have a buddy or a giant group of friends to hang out with?”

Her tone was odd, defensive. Which sparked his curiosity. “No,” he said. “I just figured you were probably good at history and literature.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Her expression fell, and she stared at the ground in front of them as they walked for a few seconds. “It was just something my dad said this morning.”

“Which was?”

She pursed her lips, probably debating whether she wanted to talk about personal problems with a big, dumb mathematician like him. Although he had been told he was a good listener. Which came in handy when he felt like getting laid. Not that he only listened to women when he had ulterior motives. Their stories had always been as fascinating as their skills between the sheets.

“It’s nothing,” Calliope sighed. “It’s just that I’m a little adrift, now that most of my friends are dating, and Dad pointed out that I have always had a ‘buddy’, as he called it. Ever since I was a kid.”

Jonathan shrugged. “And that’s a bad thing?”

She studied him with a sidelong glance, as if trying to figure out whether he was serious or making fun of her. That in itself rubbed him the wrong way. He hated the thought of anyone making fun of Calliope.

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “And anyhow, it doesn’t matter. I’m making a concerted effort to be more independent.”

“By falling into crevasses,” he teased.

“That wasn’t on purpose.” She smacked his arm.

He liked it. It meant the ice had been broken. “Good thing I came along then, eh?”

She smiled and blushed. His pulse jumped up. When her gentle smile shifted to a mock frown, it pushed up a little more.

“Hey, what’s with you telling me I shouldn’t hike alone when you were out all by yourself?” she asked. “What would have happened if you had fallen in a hole?”

“You would have pulled me out,” he teased. She made an ironic sound. “Besides.” He shrugged. “I like spending time on my own.”

“Okay, you are a dweeb after all.”

“What?” He glanced to her, half surprised, half amused. “Getting out on my own and clearing my head now and then makes me a dweeb but complex equations doesn’t?”

“No one likes being alone,” she informed him with a sexy roll of her eyes.

“I do.” Although he was totally digging spending time with her.

Even when she looked at him like he’d grown five more arms. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s a great way to clear your head.”

“But you’re always in the thick of things when Howie throws his mixers.”

“That’s different.” His grin widened. “Howie is filled with wild ideas. It’s fun to get pulled along for the ride.”

She huffed a laugh. “If you say so.”

“Didn’t you enjoy the orienteering event?” he asked, remembering the way her eyes had lit up at the brunch where they announced the competition, even though she didn’t join in.

“I don’t do wilderness.”

“Uh…” Jonathan looked around.

“This doesn’t count. There aren’t trees,” she answered not only his immediate question, but his curiosity about why she didn’t participate. “Or bears.”

“What about the dance contest?”

“Man, I was out in the first round of that thing. That IT guy, Rick, had two left feet.”

“Rick’s a nice guy,” Jonathan said, though he’d been less than happy to see him holding Calliope in his arms to dance.

“Tell that to my toes,” Calliope said.

Yeah, Rick was okay. Anyone who wasn’t actively pursuing Calliope was okay, as far as he was concerned.

“Has Howie come up with an idea for this next mixer?” Calliope asked.

“Not last I heard,” Jonathan answered. “He’s looking for a competition, even though some of us keep telling him a community service project would be good enough.”

“You know Howie.”

“Yep. I’m sure he’ll come up with an idea soon.”

“And knowing him, it’ll involve a three-ring circus and flying monkeys to boot.”

Jonathan laughed. “Probably. I’ll go along with whatever he wants to do, though.”

Calliope’s brow went up. “Really? Even if that meant him shooting you out of a cannon?”

“Even if I had to wear a tutu while soaring at the target,” he said.

Calliope shook her head. “That’s an extreme level of people-pleasing there.”

“Hey, if it makes Howie happy, if it makes anyone happy, I’ll do it,” he confessed. It was a truer statement than she could know. After seeing so much misery and destruction in the Army, he’d go to extreme lengths of silliness or sacrifice to make someone smile. The world needed more smiles and less battles.

“All right.” Calliope shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I would never let Howie run me around the way I’ve seen him do with some people.”

“It’s all in how you look at it.” Jonathan glanced at her, meeting her eyes. “Since getting back from overseas, I’ve made a point of saying yes to as many crazy schemes as I can. It’s led me to some awesome adventures.”

Her doubting expression relaxed. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Everything from skydiving into the Grand Canyon to fostering a litter of kittens that lost their mother.”

“You’re kidding.” She gaped at him. “You and kittens?”

Jonathan laughed. “Five of them. I had to get up three times a night to feed them with eye-droppers. It was crazy. And I’m not gonna lie, I got a little choked up when I gave them away to forever homes.”

Calliope shook her head. “You are a man of many mysterious layers, Jonathan Cross.”

A soft silence fell between them as they continued their walk. Calliope’s ankle must have been feeling better. They had picked up their pace a bit, and her gait was smooth. Which didn’t make Jonathan all that happy when they rounded a bend and could see the parking lot where she’d left her car. He had half a mind to ask if she wanted to turn around and head out along the trail again. Or maybe they could plan something more extensive. He’d been meaning to go back to the area where the orienteering event had been held. The leaves were probably changing now. They could bring a picnic. He could tell her about the upcoming rocket launch, maybe launch a rocket of his own.

They reached the parking lot, and Calliope headed for a blue SUV. She pulled keys out of her pocket and pressed the button to unlock her doors.

“So I was thinking—”

“You know what would be nice—”

They spoke at the same time. Then they both laughed.

Calliope turned to him, leaning back against her car. “You first.”

“I was just thinking that it would be nice to plan to meet up again, instead of running into each other in a damsel in distress scenario.”

Calliope hmphed. “I was not in—okay, I was in distress.” She blushed, sending him a sheepish look.

That look alone made him feel too hot and bothered for his own good. “Dinner sometime?”

She smiled. Yep, smiles were definitely the best thing in the world. “That sounds fantastic.”

Inwardly, he fist-pumped. “Cool. How about I pick you up on Friday, and we can go to the Cattleman Hotel.”

Her flirty smile faltered. “Friday? Do I really have to wait that long?”

“Uh.” He blinked, surprised that she was so eager, but happy. “Okay, how about Wednesday?”

She pushed away from the car and stepped close. Very close. She put a hand on his chest and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Make it Monday, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He grinned. A little aggression was good in a woman. Especially in a woman who he felt like he’d been skating around, almost but not quite connecting, for months now. Might as well jump in with both feet.

“That sounds perfect,” he said. “Monday it is. Can I swing by and walk you over at around six?”

“I’ll be waiting,” she answered, letting go of him and backing up.

Jonathan waited, making sure she got in her car okay and was on her way, before heading back to the river to finish his hike. Finally. He had a date with Calliope Clutterbuck. Never mind the looming launch or whatever Howie was planning for his next mixer. Jonathan was right where he wanted to be.