“Max, no!” Luke grabbed Max by the collar when the dog started nosing Camry’s hair, dragged the Lab up out of the hole, and pushed him away.
Luke then straddled the hole, bracing his feet on either side of the sled. “Camry, sweetheart,” he whispered, slipping off his glove again and carefully threading his trembling fingers through her hair. He felt along her jaw to locate her neck, then held his finger against her weak pulse. “Easy now,” he said when she stirred with a moan.
“Don’t move. We don’t know what’s broken.”
“Tigger,” she said weakly, her voice muffled because her face was pressed into her knees, facing down.
“To hell with Tigger,” he growled. “I need to know where you’re hurt. Can you feel your body, Camry? Your legs? Your arms?”
“T-take Tig . . .” she whispered. “C-can’t breathe.”
Luke felt along her body, carefully wedging his fingers between her arm and torso, and finally realized that she was wrapped around the dachshund so tightly, there was no room for her lungs to expand. He pressed deeper until he felt Tigger’s sweater, then grasped the wool and slowly pulled. Camry moaned again as the limp body of the dog slowly emerged. As soon as he was able to get both hands around Tigger, Luke applied more pressure while carefully wiggling the dog back and forth, then finally pulled the dachshund free and set her on the snow above the hole.
He immediately looked down at Camry and saw her stir again, her torso expanding on a shuddering breath. “Okay, sweetheart, your turn.” He clasped the shoulder of her jacket, at the same time wrapping his hand around her neck to keep her head still, and leaned close. “If you feel any sharp pain, you let me know, okay? I’m going to pull you out now. Don’t try to help; just relax and let me do all the work.”
He put just enough pressure into his pull to gauge how stuck she was, then stilled, watching for signs of distress. He pulled a bit harder, felt her sliding free, then lifted her just a bit more before he stopped again. He then slid his arm under her head for support and repositioned his hand on her jacket. Using his own body like a backboard, he slowly straightened as she unfolded out of the sled, until he was leaning back against the side of the hole with her in front of him.
“Can you feel your legs and arms?” he whispered into her ear, which was now even with his head.
“Right leg h-hurts.”
Luke was so relieved he kissed her hair. “That’s good. You’d have really scared me if you said you couldn’t feel anything. Okay,” he said, taking a steadying breath to calm his trembling. “I’ll straighten my knees so that I’m standing, then reach under your legs and lift you into my arms. There’s a chance your right leg is broken, but I’ve got to lift you up and lay you on the snow.” He kissed her hair again. “Ready?”
She made a small sound, and her head, which he was still supporting, nodded ever so slightly. He reached down and cupped her legs—gritting his teeth against her gasp of pain—and lifted her to his chest. “Easy, now. The worst is over,” he said softly, brushing his lips against her cold, tear-dampened cheek.
Careful not to fall into the sled, he slowly turned around, raised her up, and gently set her beside the hole. He slid his arms out from under her, making sure her body was completely supported by the snow.
“Tigger,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths.
“You first,” he hissed, having to shove Max away when the whining dog started licking her face.
“Not breathing,” Camry said, weakly giving Luke a push. “Please . . . help Tig.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the dachshund’s limp body. Dammit! “I think . . . I’m sorry, I think she’s dead,” he said, turning back to carefully unzip Camry’s ski pants leg.
“P-please, Luke,” she sobbed.
He spun around with a muttered curse, stepped across the hole, and leaned down to put his ear against Tigger’s side. He thought he heard a faint heartbeat, and moved his face to her snout, trying to find signs of breathing.
“Help her,” Camry whispered.
Luke slid two fingers under Tigger’s sweater, over her ribs, then used his other hand to lift the dachshund’s nose so he could close his mouth over it. He gently blew, feeling the dog’s chest rise, then blew several more times. Tigger suddenly stirred, giving a weak whimper, and Luke picked up the dog.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered, turning to show Camry. “Thatta girl. Keep breathing.” He set Tigger on the snow in the crook of her arm, then took her hand to stop her from trying to pull the dog onto her chest. “Don’t try to pick her up. Just let her lie beside you. She’s breathing. Just keep her tucked against you.”
He brushed back Camry’s hair and leaned closer. “Anything else hurt besides your right leg? Your ribs? Your back?” he asked, unzipping her jacket. He stopped and blew on his hands to warm his freezing fingers, then slowly pulled her sweater up and worked the hem of her turtleneck out of her pants so he could feel her belly. “Focus on yourself,Camry,” he growled when he glanced up to find her straining to see Tigger. He touched her chin to make her look at him, then forced a smile to soften his demand. “I’m worried about internal bleeding. Do you remember anything jabbing you as you tumbled? Or did your head hit anything?” he asked, studying her pupils, which, thank God, appeared even.
“I-I’m okay. B-but my foot is throbbing.”
He forced his smile wider, brushing his shaking hand over her forehead again. “You picked a hell of a way to get out of your turn to pull the sled.”
Her gaze roamed his face, and she touched his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
He also touched his cheek, then smiled at her again. “I’ve known you what . . . two weeks? And I’ve been beaten up twice. You should come with a warning label.”
“I’m sorry.”
He kissed her trembling lips. “I’m not,” he whispered. He straightened, then turned toward her legs. “Okay. Time to assess the damage.”
Max suddenly came bounding over, dragging one of the snowshoes. “Good boy, Max!” Luke said, quickly grabbing it when the dog nearly swung the three-foot-long snowshoe into Camry. “You found my boot! Go on,” he said. “Find more stuff, Max.”
Tigger whined and started squirming. Luke caught the dachshund just as she started slipping into the hole he was standing in. “Looks like you’re recovering okay,” he said, setting the dog on her feet and holding her steady. He let her go as soon as he saw her tail wag, then shot Camry a glare. “You tell anyone I gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a dog, and I’m going to post the cell phone picture I took of you in your wench’s costume on the Web.”
Before she could answer him, he moved back to finish unzipping the right leg of her ski pants. “I don’t see any bones sticking out,” he said with false joy—because he sure as hell saw that her foot was twisted at an unnatural angle.
He pulled out his multitool and opened the blade, then bobbed his eyebrows at her. “I’ve always fantasized about playing doctor on a beautiful woman.” He looked back down at her leg. “I need to slit your inner pants and long johns from the knee down, to see what’s happening in there.” He bobbed his eyebrows again. “Assuming I can see anything, since you haven’t shaved your legs in what . . . days?”
“Just doit,” she growled, stiffening. “And tell me if it’s broken or just sprained.”
Oh, he knew it was broken, all right; he just didn’t know how badly. He pulled her wool pants and long johns away from her leg and slit them open with his knife, exposing angry red skin swelling up from under her wool sock.
“Yup, it’s broken,” he muttered, carefully cutting the sock down to her boot. He stilled when she sucked in a hiss, and looked at her. “I can’t tell if it’s your lower leg or your ankle. I have to take off your boot, Camry. I’ll do it as gently as I can.”
“Leave it on.”
“No. Your foot’s swelling, and it’s only going to get worse.”
She closed her eyes. “Then do it.”