She shrugged. “If you want. Will you go horseback riding?”
“NO! Do you want me to get bow-legged?” Chuckling, he put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close. “Most of all, there were Mary and Zeb and Hector.”
Her lips parted on a sigh of agreement. “And the cabin. Our time alone at the cabin.”
For one long second, they gazed at each other, remembering.
Finally, he swallowed hard. “It’s time. Hop on, babe.”
Helen jumped up, locking her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. “I love you, Rafe,” she said against his ear.
“I love you, too, babe,” he said and stepped off the edge of the cliff.
Within seconds, their parachute bloomed out above them, like a celestial cloud.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Disoriented, Rafe lay perfectly still for several moments, eyes closed, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
He’d been in an airplane preparing for a skydive when Prissy Prescott had ripped her harness and veered close to the exit. He’d lunged forward to rescue her — that’s the kind of guy he was, a flaming hero — and they’d both fallen into space.
Holy Hell!
He was alive; so they must have landed all right.
But why did he feel so fuzzy? And what was that whirring noise in his head? Probably the headache he’d had earlier was blooming into the mother of all migraines.
He couldn’t think anymore. Too many questions. Later.
But what about Prissy? Had she survived?
He forced his eyes open. Everything was black. Oh, shit! See what happens to heroes? I’m blind. Please God, not that.
He flailed about with his hands, and discovered he was covered with the parachute material. He wasn’t blind, after all. He would have giggled if he was a giggling kind of guy.
Thank you, God!
He tossed the fabric off, over his shoulders. That’s when he realized he was lying on top of his commanding officer, Prissy Prescott, who was spread-eagled, flat on her back on the ground.
She didn’t look too happy.
But, whoa, something didn’t seem right about this scenario. It was almost as if it had been played out before. Nagging, senseless images flickered into his mind — Mexican bandits, gold miners, a secluded cabin, Helen… Oh, my God! Helen and him, naked, doing The Deed. He’d like to freeze-frame that image, but his head throbbed when he tried to hold a thought. Maybe he’d suffered brain damage from lack of oxygen.
You’re losin’ it, buddy. First, blindness. Now, retardation. Slow down and think.
Helen moaned and put a hand to her forehead as if she, too, had a headache.
“Are you okay?” he asked, raising himself slightly on outstretched arms.
“No, I’m not okay, you imbecile. You are going to be court-martialed for this, soldier.”
Huh? This is the second time she said that to me.
“Hey, I just saved your life,” he said with affront.
I’ve said that to her before, I know I have.
“Saved my life? Captain, you caused me to fall out of that freakin’ airplane,” she raged irrationally, her face turning a decided shade of purple.
“Tsk, tsk. Watch your language, Major.”
“Oh… oh…” she stammered heatedly, no doubt searching for the right adjective to describe him. “You’re going to be in the stockade for a year. I’m going to sue you for assault. I’m making it my personal mission to see that you pay for this debacle for the rest of your worthless life.”
She absolutely, positively, has said those exact words to me before. In fact, this whole dialogue took place before, verbatim. Is there an echo in my head? Or am I going nuts?
Ignoring his uncomfortable thoughts, he asked, grinning down at her, “Is that all?” He’d just realized that a certain part of his body hadn’t understood that the uplifting thrill of free-falling was over, and it was time for some down-lifting.
Helen’s mouth forced a delicious little “o” of surprise as she made the same discovery. Her windblown hair looked like she’d been pulled through a keyhole, backward, and freckles stood out like tobacco juice on her pale skin. But she was damned near irresistible, in Rafe’s estimation. She frowned and darted a suspicious glare at him. Was she having the same feelings that something strange was going on?