The Protective Storm Chaser - Page 4

Then I hear her bark.

“There!” I say, shouting at the stranger. Pepper’s standing on a log that overhangs the river. It’s slick with water, and she seems to be struggling to stay on it. I run toward the water.

The man grabs my arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I have to get my dog,” I scream frantically.

He shakes his head and points at his chest with his thumbs. “I’ll get the dog.”

“But—”

“No,” he says firmly. “I can’t save you both.”

Ignoring him, I try to push past him to get to Pepper.

“Dammit,” he growls. “I’m a Navy S.E.A.L. Trust me.”

Helplessly, I nod. I watch as he assesses the water. He puts his weight on the log stretched over the water. Seeming to find it satisfactory, he begins crawling across it. Then he inches forward. The river rushes just inches beneath him.

The water rises as he crawls. Soon, it’ll reach the log.

“Hang on, Pepper,” I whimper.

The man is nearly to Pepper when the log shifts. He reaches out to grab her, just as the log rolls, dumping them into the water.

Chapter 5

Nate

Shit. I’d hoped to avoid going into the water. I scramble desperately to grab hold of the log. It’s shifted, but it hasn’t been carried downriver yet. If I can hold on, I can use it to get back to land.

As the river sweeps me away, I flail out my foot in desperation. It hooks onto the log. I manage to wrap my leg around the log, pulling myself toward it until I can throw an arm over the log.

I heave myself up, and my head breaks the surface of the water. I take a gulp of air before remembering that I’m clutching the tiny dog in my arms. I lift her out of the water. Please don’t let her die.

I’m relieved to hear her yelp.

I manage to pull us out of the water and back onto land. The beautiful woman rushes forward to get her dog. She holds the pup to her chest and sobs.

“Let’s go,” I say softly. “The flood is just going to get worse. We’re not out of the woods yet.

I have towels stored in the truck. It’s not unusual to get wet while storm chasing. I hand two to the woman.

“One for you and one for the dog,” I say.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I steer the truck back toward the Narrows.

“Are you going to dry off?” the woman asks.

“Not until we’re safely away from the river,” I say.

When we finally pass through the Narrows, I pull to the side of the road and put the park the truck. I use the face to dry the water that’s dripping down my face, but I’m soaked through. I glance at the woman. She’s smiling at me. She’s also drenched. The dog is sleeping in her arms.

The woman notices my eyes on the dog. “She’s asleep,” she says. “I guess she’s tuckered out.”