Page 8 of Nothing But Air

His mouth twitched. “Was that sarcasm, Garrison? From you?”

“I’m serious.”

“Clearly.” Those green eyes sparked with something that looked annoyingly like amusement. “Look, I get that you’re upset?—”

“I’m not upset. I’m professionally concerned about your flagrant disregard for safety protocols.”

“Professionally concerned.” He leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, matching her posture. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“That’s what it is.”

“Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’re upset.”

Heat crawled up her neck. “The climber—Tim—was in a precarious position, yes. But we have procedures. Protocols that exist because they keep our rangers alive.”

“Tim wasn’t going to last.” Teague’s voice lost some of its teasing edge. “Another few minutes and he’d have been gone.”

“Or we might have gotten him down safely with proper equipment. We’ll never know, because you decided your judgment was more important than the team’s safety protocols.”

“I decided a human life was more important than waiting for permission.”

She stepped closer. “You decided his life was more important than yours.”

Something flickered in his expression. For a moment, the cocky facade cracked, and she glimpsed something raw beneath.

Then he recovered, that half smile returning. “Aw, Garrison. Didn’t know you cared about me.”

“I don’t.” The words came too fast. “I care about setting precedents. What happens when some rookie tries to replicate your little stunt and doesn’t stick the landing?”

“My little stunt saved a kid’s life.”

“Your little stunt could have ended yours.”

“But it didn’t.”

“But it could have.”

They were too close now. She could feel heat radiating off him, see the individual flecks of gold in his green eyes. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the scrape.

“You know what I think?” His voice dropped, low enough that only she could hear. “I don’t think you’re mad about protocols.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“I think you’re mad because you were trapped behind a desk where you couldn’t help. Because you had to listen instead of being out on that rock face making decisions.”

The words hit like a fist to the sternum.

Because he was right. And she hated that he was right.

“Don’t pretend you know me,” she said quietly.

“I don’t.” He held her gaze. “But I know what a caged climber looks like. A few weeks back, when you helped me out of that jam. You revealed how much you know about climbing and I put two and two together.”

Before she could respond, Liam dropped his arm on Teague’s shoulders, tugged him slightly backward. “Maybe we should all debrief together. As a team.”

Eden lifted her chin. “A debrief is exactly what we need. Starting with acceptable risk versus reckless endangerment.”

Anya’s eyebrows shot up, her raven hair framing her wide blue eyes. “Reckless? He saved someone’s life.”