up into the saddle. There was something both strong and determined about her, as well as vulnerable. He felt a pull stronger than gravity and cursed under his breath.
Just do this job and don’t get involved. Whatever her story is, it ain’t yours. Let’s not forget what happened with the last woman you rescued.
* * *
AINSLEY HAD JUST retrieved her horse and put her gun away when she heard the roar of four-wheelers headed her way. As the sound came to a sudden stop, she caught voices coming from the mouth of the canyon. A few moments later, several of the crew appeared, including Devon “Gun” Gunderson.
“How did you think we were going to be able to shoot in this canyon?” Gunderson demanded. “We could barely get in past the fallen rocks.”
Inwardly she groaned as she glanced around for the cowboy who’d saved her from the rock slide. But he must have slipped out when the others arrived. She realized she hadn’t even thanked him. Nor did she have any idea who he was, other than he was apparently an extra.
She was still shaken, but she did her best to hide it as she discussed possible scenes that could be shot near the entrance to the canyon and other locations she’d found for them. If anyone noticed that she wasn’t herself, neither Gunderson nor the others commented on it.
Her mind kept reliving her near-death experience again and again. Everything had happened so fast. She’d heard what she’d thought was someone in the canyon, but now realized someone on the top of the canyon cliff had started the slide, just as the cowboy had said.
That made her shudder at the realization that she would have followed the sound of the rocks falling—right to her death—if it hadn’t been for her mystery cowboy. She was still trembling from the near miss later when she rode back to the hotel.
* * *
SAWYER HADN’T WANTED to leave Ainsley alone, but once some of the people from the crew had shown up, he’d taken advantage of it. He found a way to get to the top of the canyon walls a few hundred feet past the entrance. A trail of sorts wound up for a spectacular view of the area.
But it wasn’t the view he was interested in. Not wanting to set off another rock slide with people in the canyon, he waited until they’d all left before he moved cautiously toward the rim. He knew exactly what he was looking for—a spot where the rocks had been displaced and any sign of recent footprints.
The wind was strong up here. It sang as it blew through the rocks and pines. He’d left his horse tied up in the pines below. As he walked, he found dozens of footprints. Clearly a lot of people had discovered this spot. He wondered how many people from the production company had known about the trail.
As he neared the edge of the rock cliff, he saw where rocks had recently been displaced. There were fresh tracks next to the spot. He bent down to inspect them. It appeared someone had been walking along the edge of the canyon and stopped at this spot to look down. The footprints ended where rock had broken away and dropped over the side.
Someone wearing man-sized cowboy boots had set off the rock slide. Had the man followed Ainsley? Had he known she was down there and purposely started the rock slide or had it been an accident?
Once he had ridden back and put his horse and saddle away, Sawyer headed for his cabin behind the hotel. He was deciding how to proceed when a female voice called, “Sawyer?”
He turned and swore under his breath as he recognized the last woman he’d rescued. Katherine “Kitzie” McCormick. She walked toward him, squinting in the sun as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. He couldn’t either. What was she doing here? His mind raced for an explanation as to his presence here, realizing he was going to have to tell her the truth, even though it could get him into trouble with his real job if his boss found out.
“Sawyer, what are you doing here?” she demanded in a whisper when she reached him. “I thought you were on medical leave? Tell me they didn’t send you as my backup.” Anger brought her words out in a spurt like machine gun fire. “If you think you are going to come in here like you have always done and save the day—”
“I’m not here...officially.”
That stopped her cold. She took a step back, studying him openly. “What does that mean?”
It was clear that she thought their boss had sent him to check up on her—or save her again if the need arose. “I’m not on the clock officially or unofficially. It’s...personal.”
He caught the twinkle in her eye, the half grin, and cursed his bad luck along with his poor choice of words. Now she thought he was here because of her. He definitely was going to have to tell her the truth. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
She smiled. “How about my cabin? Oh, hold on a minute,” she said as an old pickup rattled past. “That’s my delivery guy. I forgot he was coming today. I’ll be right back.”
Sawyer watched her take off at a run to intercept the driver of the truck. He couldn’t believe his bad luck at finding Kitzie here, he thought as she stood talking to the driver, a guy wearing his baseball cap on backward.
“You’re working here?” he asked when she joined him again.
Kitzie didn’t answer as she led the way to a cabin on the other side of the wide expanse behind the hotel. As she pulled out the key for cabin No. 3, he worried. Given their history, he knew this could get ugly if he wasn’t careful. She seemed to have it in her head that this was about the two of them. She wouldn’t be happy when she learned the truth. But he couldn’t see what choice he had. He certainly couldn’t let her go on thinking what she was right now.
But what was she doing here? She pushed open the cabin door, and he followed her inside the small, cramped space. Glancing around, he took in the dated knotty pine interior. It was only large enough for a couch, fold-down kitchen table and one folding chair, a tiny kitchen with an old fridge, a miniature bathroom with a toilet and shower, and a bedroom with a bed that had seen better days. All the essentials of home, he thought, realizing his would be exactly like this.
Kitzie moved to the refrigerator, opened it and took out two beers. Without asking him, she handed him one, opened one for herself and curled up at the end of the couch.
He took the folding kitchen chair and pulled it up, rather than joining her on the small couch. She didn’t miss the gesture. A frown crossed her face before she checked it and took a sip of her beer.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m doing a friend a favor.” That didn’t seem to relieve her curiosity. “So you’re working here?”
“I’m undercover in charge of feeding everyone.”
“You cook?” That would be more surprising than hearing she was undercover.
She rolled her eyes. “I oversee the kitchen. I grocery shop mostly and get two teens from town to do the real cooking.”
“So you’re...undercover?” he repeated, wondering if she was on the same case he was. Maybe Ainsley’s father had made an official request for surveillance on his daughter.
“You first,” Kitzie said. “If you aren’t here...officially, then tell me about this...favor.”
“I thought we might be here for the same reason. One of the other employees here has a stalker.”
Her brow shot up, and he knew that wasn’t her assignment. “A stalker? What employee?”
“Ainsley Hamilton.”
“Ainsley?” She laughed and took a big gulp of her beer. The rich honey-brown eyes he’d once found beautiful had turned dark with instant jealousy at even the mention of another woman. Even one involved in a case. Anger pinched her features. She shook her head with both disappointment and fury. “And I thought you might be here because of me.”
“I’m sorry you thought that. I think it