Facing the Fire

She shot him a quick glance. “You think so? It looks like it’s getting deeper.”

“Yeah.” Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he leaned out the window again. The water had inched to the top of the hubcaps. “But we’re still okay.” At least they hadn’t sunk into mud.

They drove further into the river, and the water continued to rise. The Jeep tipped on a rock, and she righted it with a splash.

“Cade…”

“I know.” He frowned at the water creeping toward the axle, then shifted his gaze to the shore. Hell. They weren’t going to make it after all.

Resigned, he pulled his head back inside. “Okay, we’d better turn ar—”

A metallic screech rent the air, and the Jeep abruptly stopped. Oh, hell.

“What happened?” Jordan asked, her voice high. “What did we hit?”

“A rock, probably.” Under the water where they couldn’t see it.

“Oh, God.”

He kept his tone calm. “It’s all right. Let’s try backing up and see if we can dislodge it.”

She shoved the gearshift into Reverse and pressed on the gas. The tires spun, but the Jeep didn’t move. She stopped, inhaled sharply, then tried again.

“Not too fast.” He hung his head out the window as water streamed up the door. “Okay, a little harder.”

She hit the gas and the engine’s fan came on. “Not too much,” he cautioned. She slowed, but then the engine sputtered and missed. “Stop!” He jerked his head back inside.

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked. The Jeep vibrated roughly, coughing and stumbling badly.

“Water probably got into the engine.”

“Water? But how do we—”

The vehicle bucked, jolting them forward, then died.

The river’s rush filled the sudden silence. Water splashed past in the light of the Jeep’s high beams. “Try to start it,” he said.

She cranked the engine. It churned and whined in the silence. She turned it off and tried again.

“You might as well stop,” he finally said when it didn’t catch. “We’ll have to let it dry out.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hard to say. A few hours maybe.”

“A few hours!” Her gaze flew to his. “But we can’t just sit here and wait.”

“No.” He kept his gaze steady on hers. “We need to keep going. We’ll come back later and tow the Jeep.”

She bit her lip as that shock registered, and tension tightened her elegant jaw. But after several long seconds, she nodded. “So how do you want to do this?”

His respect for her rose. She was a fighter; he’d give her that much. Despite the setback, she didn’t balk.

He returned his gaze to the river. “We can use the rope. We’ll tie it off to the bumper.”

“You think it’s that deep?”

“Probably not, but the rocks could be slick. We’ll hold on to it for balance.”

“What about the dog?”

“He can swim.”

“But what if he goes the wrong way? He might head back toward the fire.”

He frowned back at the dog huddled behind his seat. The dog’s worried gaze lifted to his. “I’ve still got that beef jerky in my bag. Won’t he follow the smell of that?”

“Not if he’s scared.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I can carry him across first, then come back and help with the bags.”

The muscles along his jaw flexed. He wasn’t that damn helpless. “I’ll carry the bags. And if you’re that worried about the dog, tie him to the other end of the rope. Then you can pull him along.”

“That’s a great idea.” Her lips curved, and her blatant approval blocked the air in his lungs.

And without warning, the old dizziness seeped through his brain. That heady, off-kilter feeling that made him want to promise the moon. To do anything to feel her admiration, her respect.

Jordan grabbed her bag from the backseat and stuffed her purse inside. Then she propped it between the seats and picked up the rope. “Are you going to take off your boots?”

Still feeling light-headed, he pulled his attention back to the problem at hand. “No, the rocks could be sharp.”

“Then I’ll keep my tennis shoes on.” She handed him the rope, then pushed her seat farther back. Rising to one knee, she bent and lifted the dog. “You really do stink,” she said as she slid with him into her seat. She kissed the top of his head and rubbed his ears. “But we’re still not going to leave you.”

She shot Cade a grin. “At least he’ll get a bath out of this.”

Impressed that she could joke under pressure, he shook his head. She was a trooper, all right. And that lethal combination of feminine warmth and grit made her hard to resist.

“Tie this to his collar.” He handed her the end of the rope. “We’ll hook the other end to the bumper and hold on to that.”

“Got it.” She threaded the rope under the dog’s collar and secured the knot. Then she took a deep breath to gather her courage and pushed on her door. It didn’t budge, so she shoved again, hard.