“You’re frowning.”
“I am?” I looked up, finding him watching me, an amused look on his face. “I was just wondering what a proclivity was. Do you know?”
“It’s an inclination. A tendency to do something a particular way.”
“Oh. So, it’s not a sexual thing.”
He laughed. “I think it could be an anything thing. Why?”
“No reason.”
“Shit.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Okay, now I do want to know your sordid sexual history. Especially if it involves proclivities.”
“And… you agree to the bodyguard if I tell you?”
He gave me a look, and it was a good one, the sort that was stern yet playful, and made me want to crawl over the diner’s table and kiss it right off him. I schooled my own features into a scowl, forced my attraction back into oblivion, and sighed. “Fine. But only because I believe that sexual partners should share their history with each other. And we are—or rather, were—sexual partners.”
“Are,” he corrected.
“WERE.” I huffed out my breath, then continued on before he had a chance to re-dispute the classification. “So, to answer your question, no—I couldn’t be pregnant. Prior to our night together, the last one was…” I counted backward on my hand, then squinted, double-checking my memory. “Eight months ago.”
“Who was that?”
I curled up my face. “This guy from a marketing class I was in. Entirely forgettable. And wore a condom,” I added. “Every guy I’ve been with has worn a condom. Including you.”
“Yes,” he smirked. “I remember.”
“So…” I glanced at his plate, which had been cleaned with quick efficiency, no stray fries in sight. “What about you?”
“Three girlfriends. The most recent relationship ended the day of the plane crash.” He wiped his mouth, then balled up the napkin. “Nothing since then, except for…”
“Us.” I flushed at the word, then hurried to move the conversation forward. “But you’ve gone on dates since then.”
“A date. It didn’t lead to anything.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. It just wasn’t right.” He folded his napkin in half and smoothed it down on the table. “Speaking of dating, I need to talk to you about something.” He leaned forward, and my guard was instantly up.
“What?”
“This weekend, it’s Nate’s birthday.” He gave me an apologetic look, and I tried to find the end of this conversational path.
“Yeah, so?”
“I was wondering, given the new parameters of our relationship—”
“Our non-relationship.”
“Whatever.” He shrugged off the rebuttal and forged onward. “I was wondering if you’d come with me. Just to keep an eye on things. It may be dangerous. Very hazard-filled. Lots of potential disasters.”
My Guardian Angel side did a happy little dance along my cerebral cortex while my common sense called bullshit. “What’s this danger-filled thing?”
He shot me an apologetic look. “It’s a hunting trip.”
“A hunting trip?” I stirred my empty Sprite with the straw, moving the ice around. “And you want me to go?”
“Sure.” He nodded, then seemed to amend his response. “I’d like you to come.”
I stared at him blankly, and tried to understand the swirl of emotions fighting for room in my chest. I hadn’t done too well in this lunch. In terms of acting crazy, I had done quite well. But in keeping my arousal in check? Pretty lousy. In keeping the conversation strictly business and away from any sex, relationship, or personal conversations? I’d failed terribly.
Now he was proposing something that terrified me in about ten different ways. He was right in his assessment of a danger-filled event, but the entire thing reeked of a set-up. What was the real reason I was coming, because he was accepting my “protecting your life” thing a little too easily, compared to the reactions of everyone else I mentioned it to. Which left the dangerous possibility that he wanted me to come so he could attempt another seduction. What had he said about our night? Voodoo magic? I blushed at the compliment, one I was close to framing in giant neon letters above my bed. And if he was bringing me on a hunting trip to seduce me, or to get another chance at sex … would I be able to resist?
“You seem to be giving this a lot of thought.”
I stabbed the straw into the ice with a little more aggression than I had intended. “I am.”
“Then let’s scratch the hunting trip. You don’t need to go.”
My deep thought process did a sharp 180. What was I doing, overanalyzing this situation? If—one week ago—I’d known that Declan Moss was going on a hunting trip, and I’d been offered a front-row seat to the event, I’d have sold my left pinky for the ticket. I swallow. “I can go.”
“No. Honestly, it’s fine. We’re hunting skeet. I couldn’t get accidentally shot if I tried.”
What a stupid statement. That’s the entire thing about getting accidentally shot. No one was trying, or else it wouldn’t be an accident.
“I can go.” I straightened in my seat, my mind made up, and if he thought he was grabbing a gun and going anywhere without me, he was delusional. “There are just a few issues I need to sort out first.”
I saved the issues until we got into the car, the process delayed by Declan’s overkill cleanup of our table, one that included wiping down the surface and realigning every condiment bottle and salt shaker in the end cap. Once we were settled in and buckled, I brought up the first problem.
“Here’s the first problem. I have a pig.”
“I’m well aware of your pig.” He drove with one hand, his arm stretched across the bench seat and resting on my headrest. We turned a sharp corner, and his fingers brushed at my neck.
“And I like animals.”
“So, you don’t want me to shoot anything.”
“I don’t want a gun anywhere near you.” In the time it had taken him to sanitize our tabletop, I had googled firearm statistics, which had been one thing I hadn’t even known to worry about. “Did you know that eight-two people died last year in hunting accidents?”
“I was not aware of that.” He brushed his fingers across the back of my neck and I swatted at his hand. “But, no pigs are in danger. It’s a skeet trip.”
“You’re still shooting skeet,” I pointed out. “I don’t like the idea of you shooting anything.” I had never seen a skeet, but they sounded adorable. “I’m not going to be able to sleep at night with a dozen skeet deaths hanging over my head.”
“You’re joking.” He shot me a look, half his mouth lifting in a wry smile, which fell when he saw my blank look. “You’re serious.”
“Of course, I’m serious!” I threw my hands in the air.
“Have you ever seen a skeet?”
I fought the urge to Google one. “Yes.”
“You have?”
“YES,” I snapped.
“And you don’t want me to shoot one…” he said slowly. “Why?”
“They’re adorable,” I said sullenly.
“Fine.” He looked to the left, out his window, his face hidden from me. “I won’t shoot one.”
“Promise?”
He looked back at me. “I swear. But you should come with me, just to make sure.”
He didn’t need to twist my arm. The moment I heard the invitation, I mentally printed a map, ordered bright orange fluorescent vests, and malaria-fight-worthy bug spray. Still, I went through a big production of reluctance just to seal the deal. “A few more things. Will we have separate bedrooms?”
“Sure.”
“And, it’s just one night?”
“Yep.”
Separate bedrooms. One night. My odds of escaping with my sexual composure intact rose. “Can I bring Mr. Oinks?”
“Hell no.”
I scrunched up my face, then let out a long and dramatic sigh. “Fine. But this is definit
ely not a date. Work trip only.”
“Not a date,” he repeated solemnly. “Work trip only.” Then he smiled and it was a good thing I was a stone-cold pro. Because this man? He was deadly.
27
“I don’t like this.” Roger stood in his driveway, his arms over his chest, and watched me lug his cooler out of the garage.
“For Pete’s sake, will you help her with that?” Ansley barked from the front porch, Caleb in her arms.
“We don’t even know this guy.” Roger came around the other side and lifted the handle, the cumbersome job suddenly easy. “What if he’s taking you out into the woods to rape and kill you?”
“He’s not going to rape and kill her, Roger. He already had sex with her!” Ansley’s voice, meant to carry across the impatiens and to our spot by the mailbox, was also easily heard by every house in a block radius. Roger glared at her and I stifled a laugh.
“It’s true,” I whispered. “He did have sex with me.”
“Good sex,” Ansley added, strolling down the sidewalk and brushing crumbs off Caleb’s mouth. “Lots of orgasms.”
Roger colored, and pushed the glasses up higher on his nose with precision. “He could still kill her.”
“It’s true,” I agreed. “He could definitely kill me. If I don’t come back tomorrow by two, call the police.”
“It’s not funny,” Roger said, a bead of sweat dragging down his temple. “What do you really know about him?”
“Ummm… everything?” Ansley said. “You’re being a pain. Go grab the bug zapper and shush.”
His jaw tightened, and we watched as he walked up the driveway and toward the garage, which was a barely-contained pile of every item they had ever owned. Caleb squirmed and Ansley set him down, the stout three-year-old running after his father.
She lowered her voice and leaned into me. “He’s so sexy when he’s being protective.”
I squinted in Roger’s direction, trying to see past his khaki high waters and crisp plaid short-sleeve shirt, then shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t see it.”
“Did you pack condoms?”
“What?” I recoiled. “No.”
“Bacon-flavored lube?”
I glared at her. “I’m going to personally tell Mr. Oinks that you said that.”
“At least tell me you packed sexy panties.”
I pulled up my T-shirt and looped a finger under the elastic of my size-too-big purple cotton granny panties. “Nope.”
“Holy shit, woman. Did I not teach you anything?” She grabbed my arm and started to pull me in the direction of the house. “Come on. I’ve got a Fredricks of Hollywood set that Roger says gives him migraines. It’ll look perfect on you.”
I danced right, ducking behind her. Her arm twisted into an awkward angle, and she cursed, letting go of me. “You aren’t listening. I’m NOT HAVING SEX WITH HIM.”
“It’s true.” The deep voice from behind us scared the crap out of us, and we both screamed in reflex.
I blew out a burst of air at the sight of Declan, headed up the driveway, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. Behind him, at the curb, his truck idled. “Jesus, you are sneaky.”
“She might have sex with you,” Ansley offered as a way of greeting. “Don’t let the adamant declarations scare you away from trying.”
“Great,” Roger remarked. “Encouraging aggressive behavior in the face of clear denial. Just what we want to teach predators everywhere.” He tucked the giant yellow tennis racket shaped fly zapper under his arm and puffed out his chest. “I’m Roger. Autumn’s brother.” His voice was suddenly deeper, and when he held out his hand to shake Declan’s, I watched the skinny veins in his forearms pop into action.
“He’s my brother-in-law,” I elaborated, unsure of exactly who Roger thought he was intimidating. I glanced at Ansley, who was absolutely no help, eyeing her husband with a gleam that spoke of ripped-off clothes and raw animal lust.
“Nice to meet you,” Declan said. “Declan Moss. I’ll take good care of Autumn.”
He’ll take good care of me? That’s funny. The man talks on his cell phone while filling his car up with gas. He’s lucky he’d lived to thirty-two without dying already. I poked him in the arm. “My bags are on the porch.”
He glanced past me, his brow furrowing at the sight of the stack, three high and two deep. “We’re just going for a night.”
“Yep. Use your legs when you lift the blue one. It’s heavy.”
“I’ll help,” Roger offered, his chest still puffed up, and I watched as Ansley bit her lip in response. Weird married people. I elbowed her and she glared at me.
“What?”
“I put the instructions for Mr. Oinks on the dining room table,” I reminded her.
“Yep. I know. Let him out four times a day. Check his water. Feed him crap. Got it,” she said absentmindedly.
“And scratch his belly.”
“The kids can do that. You know I don’t like how sweaty he gets.” She wrinkled up her nose as she watched Declan and Roger cross over the grass, my bags in hand. “Text me when you get there. And if he kisses you. Or anything else.” She grinned at me and I rolled my eyes, pulling her into a hug.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing those underwear,” she whispered against my ear.
“I can’t believe you think Roger’s sexy,” I whispered back.
She laughed and squeezed me tight. “Go. Have fun. Live a little.”
Live a little. It was strange that, in trying so hard to keep Declan from dying, I had kind of forgotten how to celebrate living. I thought suddenly of Mom, of her manic mood swings—full of happy energy one minute, and bitter and angry the next. When she was up, she was UP. It was like living in a disco ball of fun and love, the mood tampered with the constant fear that it was about to end. And when she’d gone down…we’d avoided her.
Ansley pulled away and kissed my cheek. “Go. Have wild passionate forest sex and tell me all the explicit details later.”
I waved at her and met Caleb halfway across the lawn, bending to kiss him on the head. When I looked up, Declan was rounding the back of the truck, his gaze catching mine. “Ready?” he called, opening my door.
I wasn’t ready, not with Ansley’s words echoing in my ear, or the fact that Declan looked deliciously outdoorsy, in a long-sleeved T-shirt, worn jeans, and hiking boots. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, he had a golden layer of scruff on his face, and a baseball cap snug on his head.
“Roger,” Ansley called out. “He’s opening the door for HER.”
I swallowed a smile at Roger’s annoyed grunt and hoisted myself into the cab. “I’m ready.”
“So, where exactly are we going?” I pulled my pillow out of the bag and rested it on my lap, readjusting the seatbelt.
“A hunting lease we have in Marion County. Outside Ocala. It’s about two hours away.” He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for a break in traffic so he could pull out.
“A hunting lease…” I picked at a stubborn hangnail. “How does that work? You rent the land?”
“Yeah. There’s a group of ten of us who got together on it. There’re a few small cabins on the property and a camp house. We all come down when we can.”
“So, there’ll be ten people here?” My fear quadrupled. Ten gun-toting idiots, all likely to be drunk and careless. I mentally flipped through the items I had packed. A gunshot wound kit, epi pens, the biggest first aid kit that Amazon provided, a foldable gurney and three books on wound care. It wasn’t enough. I might be able to protect Declan, but what about all of the others?
“Nah. It’s just us and Nate. Potentially our client, if he brings her along.”
Our client. Her. I sat up a little in the seat, enthused at the idea of a second female. “Is she a hunter?”
He chuckled. “Benta? I wouldn’t think so. Not unless you’re the last designer dress on the rack.” He reached down and picked up his phone. “But the jury is still out on her. I’m wait
ing for Nate to confirm it.” He didn’t seem pleased with the possibility and I dropped the subject.
“How do you know that no one else is coming? Do you have a booking system? Online calendar?”
He smiled. “Nope. We show up and if someone’s there, we squeeze in. It works.”
Great. We were driving two hours into a complete question mark of a situation. Technically, since he’s bringing me, and Nick’s bringing someone, all ten of the guys could be there, with girls, and how are twenty people going to share a few small cabins? I felt lightheaded.
He gently touched my arm. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I found the window control and lowered the glass, gulping in some of the fresh air. “Is Nate pissed that I’m coming?”
He smiled. “Nate doesn’t get pissed about stuff, especially not where women are involved. Plus, this was his idea.”
That surprised me. “Really?”
“Yeah. And it’s good for you guys to spend some time together. You can get to know each other better. His view of you is a little one-sided.”
I pinned my lips together, uninterested in the idea of spending the next twenty-four hours explaining my erratic behavior to Nate Robb. I had seen Nate enough to know what sort of guy he was. The popular one. The sort who had women tripping over themselves. The kind who flirted as often as he breathed, broke hearts with wild abandon, and had probably spent the last six months making fun of me.
“Have you been to Marion County before?”
I tucked one foot underneath myself, grateful for the change in conversation. “No. Actually… I’ve only been outside of Tallahassee once, and that was to go to spring break at PCB.”
He glanced over, surprised. “You’re kidding me. The only place you’ve ever been is Panama City Beach?” He said the tourist destination as if it was crud in the bottom of a trash can.
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