of her own task, she smiled her relief and picked up the water container next to her.
“After you,” he said, holding out his hand.
She smiled again, the smile she used for students who irritated her, and headed toward a hand pump just past the bridge.
“Hey,” he called from behind her. “Hazel introduced you as Jo. Is it just Jo—or something else?”
“Why does it matter?” she replied, her tone casual, her heart still beating as if she’d run a mile.
She didn’t want to have a conversation with the man. After Ned, she was sworn off men, and her only reason for coming on this trip was to get away from the loneliness he’d left her with. Now here she was, in the wilderness, feeling like the only female on ladies’ night at the Bullnose Barroom.
“It’s Joanna, but you can call me anything you like, since I doubt we’ll be seeing each other much,” she answered breezily. “Believe me, you’re here to put out fires, and I am definitely planning on avoiding fires.”
She pushed down on the rusty hand pump. Putting all her weight into it, she still couldn’t get it to move. It finally released with a bang, and she nearly fell over. Next she had trouble getting pressure built up in the thing; all she could get out of it was a series of gurgling, choking noises.
“Here, let me help you.”
He gave the handle a few fast pumps, and clear water came gushing out.
“Let there be water,” he quipped.
“Thanks,” she muttered, nervous at the way he seemed to be crowding her. “I can manage it now.”
But in fact it was difficult, once the container started to fill, to keep it up under the spout. It weighed a ton.
“Let me hold it for you,” he offered.
Her instincts gone awry, she snatched the container from him when he tried to take it. Water splashed across her blouse, plastering the thin fabric to her skin.
“It’s heavy, I just—”
“I—I can manage,” she repeated, her mouth firming in a frown. “Don’t you have a forest somewhere to save?”
She hadn’t meant to be so cutting. But he exhibited all the signs of a fast mover, and no doubt with his good looks he had a woman in every national park.
But not her.
She had no desire to join that convenient, far-flung sisterhood of harem partners.
“All right, suit yourself.” He stood back, still towering over her. “But you’re sure wasting a helluva lot of good water.”
She really was, too, for she was forced to let the container go lower and lower as it got too heavy, until most of the water was splashing onto the ground or onto her chest.
He just stood there waiting his turn, and she sent quick peeks his way, unsure if that odd contortion of his mouth was meant as a smile or a goad. The silence between them became painful, then excruciating.
She felt remorse for snapping at him.
“Well…thanks for your help,” she said, giving him a light, uninvolved smile.
She’d meant to be polite, but her wooden gratitude rang a false note, and he seemed to detect it. She was halfway across the bridge, the heavy container bumping into her legs, when he said, “Now I see why you’re the one fetching the water. It’s so you can baptize everybody, right?”
She turned to send him a cold stare.
“Just a tip,” he bit out. “When you decide to freeze out a man, make sure your shirt’s not wet, because you sure don’t look cold to me.”
Her gaze shot to her chest. Her nipples were like hard buds, completely outlined in the sheer white fabric of her clinging shirt.
In shock, she lost her grip on the heavy water jug. It bounced and poured over her feet while she crossed her arms over her chest in a lame attempt to cover herself.
He laughed out loud.
Furious, she picked up the half-empty jug and made to head for camp. She would just have to make two trips for water. And it would be worth it, because the next trip was definitely not going to include meeting him.
“Hey, come back,” he taunted. “I like a challenge.”
“Then stick to fighting fires because I’m not a challenge—I’m a zero possibility where you’re c-concerned,” she stammered, her teeth gnashing and chattering at the same time.
That goading twist of his mouth was back.
“Now that’s a sure-nuff challenge!” he volleyed.
“No,” she tossed right back, “it’s advance notice to try elsewhere.”
“I’m glad we had this friendly little chat,” he shouted at her retreating back. “And you know what? I still feel the challenge in spite of your generous peep show!”
She almost spit she was so mad.
She hadn’t spent five minutes with the man, and she couldn’t remember being this undone.
So much for controlled and dignified academics.
Three
Jo noticed little of the waning day’s beauty on her way back to the summit campground, for she was too preoccupied with angry resentment directed at Nick Kramer.
Big deal, so he was a smoke jumper—a “Hotshot,” at that. He figured women would be all over him, and perhaps they were.
Her brow furrowed. She didn’t need this. She was still licking her wounds over Ned. It rankled her that she’d even noticed Nick Kramer—and his incredibly piercing eyes and his big athletic body.
His sexy voice, too.
She frowned.
She might as well admit it: she was angrier at herself than at him. At least she was self-aware. Being brutally honest with oneself in the company of the opposite sex was the only way to stay sane, and most of all, safe. And more than anything, she was determined to stay safe.
Her thoughts unwillingly jogged back to Nick. He wasn’t vain but he sure was arrogant. Couldn’t he have faked just a little humility? She felt her own mouth twist cynically. No, he’d probably scored so often he didn’t need it. He struck her as the type who considered himself God’s gift to women.
Just like back there at the pump—he acted as though he was doing her a favor by hitting on her.
The water container was heavy, and the return to camp uphill. She arrived back at the cabins out of breath, wet and out of sorts.
“There’s our water girl,” called Dottie, who had gotten a fire started in the outdoor oven and grill at
