“And how are you doing?” he asked.

“Just a little worn-out.” She stilled to gaze at the flatbed that was silhouetted by the final vestiges of a sunset.

“You sure?” he probed.

“I’m sure,” she confirmed, voice sounding stronger.

“Good for you.”

One of the towing operators was tying down the pickup, while the other started up the engine of the flatbed. Work here was done.

He turned, then waited for Amber to start back to the house with him. Lights had come on in the staff cottages. The scent of freshly cut hay hung in the cooling air. And the diesel truck rumbled away down the ranch road, toward the long hill that wound past the main ranch house to the highway.

“I was looking for a media file,” said Alec as the engine faded and the crickets took over. “A what?”

“That’s why I came to find you earlier. Do you have documentation of your jumping career publicity?”

She looked confused.

“I’ll need the background information to calculate the dollar value of the exposure,” he elaborated.

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“You can switch gears that fast?”

It was his turn to draw back in confusion.

“You just risked death to save Amber.”

“Risked death?” he chuckled, but then he realized she was serious.

“How did you know how to do that?” she asked.

“It’s not exactly rocket science.”

She peered at him through the dim glow of the yard lights. “Were you with the fire department or search and rescue?”

“No.”

“You pull a woman from a burning truck and carry her to safety only seconds before it explodes. How does that not rattle you?”

“That’s the Hollywood version.” He steered their course around the corner of the big barn, linking up with the path to her front porch. “I kicked out a windshield. I didn’t defuse a nuclear weapon.”