Twenty minutes after hauling herself out of the chilly water, Olivia’s shivering was still emanating from deep in her bones. She leaned closer to the nearest vent, certain she could give a massage chair a run for its money if someone sat on her lap. When the branch had knocked Gabe under, she’d run in after him, tripping in a dip in the ground and coming close to being swept away herself. Thankfully, she’d been able to grab onto a tree limb that had been protruding into her path.

Gabe seemed to be warming up faster than her, which made no sense considering she’d had enough of a glimpse as he’d tugged off his ripped shirt to confirm how low his body fat actually was. And maybe she’d ogled a bit too. When he’d come out of the water, his lips had been light blue, but they’d transitioned to light pink. Color was coming back to his face too.

Olivia had changed into one of his spare hoodies. It was big and comfy, but her soaked bra was creating softball-size circles of dampness right through the cotton. After debating between ignoring it and hoping he didn’t notice or clamping her hands over her boobs until they dried, she chose the former. Hopefully the high heat would help dry the material out.

She was also wearing a pair of too-big flannel lounge pants that Gabe had tied around her waist with a strip of twine after realizing the tie string was missing. They were long and oversize, and there’d be no keeping them up without the twine’s help.

“I don’t think this smell is going to wash out of my hair in one wash,” Olivia said, sweeping a damp lock over one shoulder. She was also pretty sure even the deftest of scent hounds couldn’t distinguish her smell from that of the bottom of a pond.

She found a bit of reassurance in the fact that Gabe had to smell the exact same way. And aside from a dozen thorough sniffs of both of them, Samson didn’t seem to mind.

“Try rinsing your hair first with baking soda when you take a shower. It works well with dog odors.” As soon as Olivia glanced his way, he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m out of practice when it comes to talking about anything that isn’t vet-related.”

“Why?” Olivia studied his profile as he drove down the dirt road toward the river access in search of the dog.

“Why what? Why baking soda?”

“No; I’m already a believer in home remedies. Why are you out of practice?”

He pursed his lips. “Is the rigor of vet school enough of an answer?”

“If you need it to be.”