Jonah’s shrewd gaze studies the fuel gauge as he bites his bottom lip in thought. “Man, Wren and Aggie are gonna be pissed.”

“Why?” I ask warily.

“Because they hate it when I change plans.” Jonah’s hands are tight on the yoke as he dips our plane to the right and brings us around. “And I’m changing plans.”

“There!” I shriek, my adrenaline surging as I stab the air. A sagging yellow dome tent sits on the ridge to our right. One person—likely a female, given the long ponytail—is jumping up and down, frantically waving her arms in the air. The person beside her remains seated on the ground, propped up by a pile of rocks and covered by a neon-orange blanket. “Is that them?”

“They’re way off course, but yeah, pretty sure that’s them. And he’s hurt.” Jonah eyes the flat patch of ridge behind them with a calculating look that makes my stomach drop.

“You can’t land here.”

“I’ve landed on worse.” After another moment of consideration, he shakes his head. “I could, but I wouldn’t get back up with the added weight.” He curses under his breath, and then with a sigh, he tips the wing toward them before leveling off. A signal that we’ve noticed them.

The woman falls to her knees and throws her arms around the man’s neck, and I’m hit with a wave of chest-warming relief. God only knows what their story is, and what the situation is, but her joy is unmistakeable, even from the air.

Jonah gets on the radio. Within minutes, a search-and-rescue team have the couple’s coordinates and a helicopter is en route.

“How’d you know to look here?” Jonah veered off in another direction on the way back.

“Just a hunch. Sometimes people get these two rivers mixed up.” He drags a finger along the photocopied map. “They were smart enough to camp out where they did, though. If they’d stayed down here, there’s no way we would have seen them and who knows how long it would have taken the rescue guys to fly out this way. They could have been out here for another week, easily.” His chest heaves with a sigh and I catch the faintest “thank God,” under his breath.

“That would have really bothered you, huh.”

“It would have bugged the shit out of me,” he admits. “I would have dropped you off, fueled up, and come right back.”

“Is that why you were in such a rush to get back in the air?” He wasn’t being an ass. Well, maybe he was, but it’s more that he wanted to find them.

Jonah pauses. “Nah. I was just afraid you’d take off your clothes again.” His lips twitch as he tries to hide his smile.

I give his arm a playful smack and the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile.

He reaches down to squeeze my hand before putting it back on the yoke. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“This is gonna be a treat,” Jonah mutters, steering the plane in with an air marshal’s guidance, his blue gaze on Agnes as she marches toward us.

“She doesn’t look angry,” I say doubtfully. Agnes’s face is typically serene. Sure, there’s no wide smile to greet us. If anything, she seems hesitant to approach.

“She never does. That’s part of her superpower.”

“Well, at least we found the hikers. They’ll be happy about that.”

“Yeah. They will be.” Jonah sets his headset down with a sigh, smoothing a hand over his beard. “But Wren hates it when I fly in on fumes, and this time I did it with you.”

I frown. “Wait, what do you mean ‘fly in on fumes’?” I look down at the gauge with new alarm as it registers. “Did we almost run out of gas? In the air?”

“Nah. She probably had another five miles or so in her.” He pats the plane’s door affectionately.

Five miles? Probably? “Are you insane?” Thank God I didn’t know about that!

“Relax. I was watching the line and doing the math. If I didn’t think we could make it, I’d have found somewhere to put her down.”

“You mean like on a pile of rocks in a field?” Has he already forgotten that he crashed a plane a few days ago?

I get a sharp glare in return, a warning that throwing that in his face was not a good idea. “No. On one of the sandbars that we passed.”

“Fine. So we would have been stranded in the middle of nowhere, without heat, eating beef jerky and protein bars?” I don’t bother hiding my irritation.

“Hey, you’re the one who was sizing up the backseat of the plane for us.” He slides out before I can get a proper retort in.

Not that I necessarily have one handy.

My flare of anger fades to annoyance as I watch him round the nose. He pulls my door open for me and holds a hand out.

On impulse, I swat it away and hop down. My rubber boots hit the gravel with a soft thud. Just a week ago, showing up here in my wedge heels, I would have needed him.

God, what was I even thinking, wearing those here?

“So now you don’t need me. Funny, I don’t remember you pushing my hand away last night when I was—” He grunts with the impact of my fist against his hard gut.

“Shut up!” I hiss, giving him a warning as I glance around, hoping the air marshal didn’t catch that.