by Lexie Ray
“I hike,” she mumbled.
“In the surrounding area?”
Gwen stopped walking and turned sharply to face him. He looked slightly startled by her sudden shift. “Why are you talking to me?”
He shrugged. “You’re interesting. Why are you talking to me?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Really?” he challenged with amusement. “Not even a clue?”
Gwen’s eyes washed over him from head to toe, and a thousand reasons popped into her head at once. None of them which she was willing to admit to.
“I can’t think of anything.”
He watched her for a long moment before he began to walk again. “It’s nice to know that you’re an honest person. You wouldn’t be such a horrible liar if you weren’t.”
Her first instinct was to ask him what he meant by that. Luckily, her second instinct, the one that told her to shut up, kicked in before she could say something stupid.
“You seem pretty sure in your assessment,” she said as she began to walk.
He waited for her to catch up before he answered. “You can’t work with Mads for long without learning how to read someone.”
“What is it that you and Mads do, exactly?”
“We…” he paused as he thought over how to answer. “Help people get out of bad situations.”
“Like people in debt to bookies?”
“Like stalking victims. Domestic violence survivors. Our last case, before Mads’ family vacation, that is, was helping a man to get out of a cult.”
“That sounds fulfilling.” Gwen hoped the words sounded more thoughtful than jealous.
It sounded amazing. To have an occupation that allowed you to actually do some good in the world. To make a difference.
“It is,” Jamie said. “And it’s always interesting.”
She tried to keep herself from asking. She struggled to keep the words in, to swallow them down, and still they tumbled out of her throat.
“What happened between you and Cheyanne?”
It was his turn to hide his surprise. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about her?”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she rushed to say.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just not that interesting of a story.” His shoulders hunched even as he kept his tone light. “Didn’t she ever tell you?”
“Now there is the definition of an unreliable author.”
Jamie chuckled. “Okay, well. We had been dating for a while, and I was all set to live the dream. You know, the job, the girl, a family. Then Chey came to me and told me that we couldn’t get married because she didn’t want kids. I told her that I wanted her more than children, and we carried on. Then she told me that she didn’t want to be a Navy wife. That one was a lot harder. I loved being a SEAL. It was the only thing that I ever wanted to be. But I came to the same conclusion. I wanted her more.”
“You didn’t tell her you had made your choice?”
“No, I did.”
“So why aren’t you still together?”
“Probably because she got married.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t for a long time. I left the Navy, did my last mission, and came home to find all of her stuff gone.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep,” he sighed.
“How did you know that she was married?”
“Well, when she moved out there was a paper left on the kitchen table. It was kindly opened to a page that talked about a young politician and his new wife. It ran with a photo. That was a big hint.”
“That is…” She couldn’t quite find the word for it. “Cold.”
“Yeah. Although I should have seen it coming. Looking back, there were quite a few warning signs. I just didn’t want to see them.”
“So why didn’t you go back to the Navy?”
“I was going to.” Jamie’s expression took on a warmth it hadn’t had before. “But then Mads showed up.”
“He offered you a job?”
“We had known each other for a while. Not really friends or anything, just working on the outskirts of each other’s awareness. Apparently, he was in Australia when he heard I retired. He got the first flight out to show up on my door and offer me a job.”
“He must be persuasive.”
“Mads can talk anyone into anything.”
Gwen smiled, only to have Jamie shake his head.
“That’s not a saying, Gwen. I’ve seen him talk a guy into gouging his own eyes out.”
“What?”
“He didn’t let the guy go through with it,” Jamie said. “He just wanted to scare him. And that guy had it coming.”
The cabins that made up the guest quarters were scattered around them. Normally they stood empty. But now the men of Mads’ team would be littered throughout them. They all still stood dark and silent. It would seem that none of the others were as inclined as Jamie to stay up.
“This is me,” Gwen said with some reluctance.
Jamie looked to the cabin beside them, but didn’t make any attempt to continue on his way or to hand over her shoes.
“It looks nice. Just you in there?”
“I share with my brother,” she admitted. “He requires proper supervision.”
“He in tonight?”
Gwen licked her lips, not entirely sure she wanted to tell him one way or another.
“No,” she said finally. “He’s a mountain guide. He’ll be gone for a few days.”
She didn’t think that the information warranted much of a reaction, but Jamie looked very pleased to hear it.
“I don’t suppose there’s much of a chance you’ll invite me in for coffee.”
“Do you normally drink coffee this late?”
He laughed and shook his head. “This can’t be the first time someone’s hit on you, Gwen.”
“You’re hitting on me?”
For a moment, he looked shocked. He quickly recovered, though.
“I’m curious what you think I’ve been doing all night.”
“All night?” she scoffed.
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I honestly thought you were picking up on that. I wasn’t exactly subtle.”
“Why are you mocking me?”
“I’m not.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you want me to believe that you have actual sexual interest in me?”
“You seem to be having trouble with that,” he noted.
“You used to date Cheyanne.”
“So?”
“She’s gorgeous. If those are the kind of women you pull, I don’t see why you’d be looking at me.”
“Because you’re gorgeous.”
Stunned, Gwen could do little more than stare at him.
“And I like you,” he said as he took step toward her. “I think we could have a lot of fun together.”
“You used to date Cheyanne.”
“What has that got to do with anything?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
Gwen shuffled on her feet. She didn’t know why she was talking. When offered a chance to spend a night with a man that looked like Jamie, you didn’t question it. You thanked whoever would listen and went for it. But she just couldn’t silence the voice in the back of her head. The voice of the teen she once was that warned her that this was all just a trick. A cruel prank.
“Is this your attempt to get a rise out of her?”
“You really think that of me?” he asked.
“That’s not a no.”
“No.” He pronounced the word crisp and clear. “This has nothing to do with Chey. This has everything to do with you and those tantalizing legs of yours.”
She glanced down at her feet. “What about my legs?”
“They’re enough to make even the strongest man have very dirty thoughts.”
There was no mistaking the pure, wanton nature of the smile that crossed Jamie’s face. He took another step closer,
close enough that he had to tilt his head back to continue to meet Gwen’s eyes.
“I’m also really getting a kick out of this height difference,” he said softly.
“You…” Reality snapped back in before she could go any further. “I’m not the kind of girl for this.”
“For what?”
“Sex with a stranger.” She tried, but the words still came out weak and unsure.
“How are you at heavy make-out sessions with strangers?”
She shuffled. “I can be more lenient.”
“Really,” he laughed. His fingertips trailed down one of her arms. “Well, how about we start with coffee and see how you feel a little later on? No pressure.”
“No pressure? If I say we’re done…”
“I’m out the door,” he assured her as his fingers toyed with the edge of her coat.
“Okay,” she said, her heart hammering within her chest.
She licked her lips, a nervous energy strumming under her skin. This wasn’t like her. Her history with men was limited, to say the very least. She couldn’t do this. She should say no and get the hell out of here before this all went horribly wrong. But the smile that grew across Jamie’s face was just too tempting to walk away from.
“One drink,” she said. “Then we’ll see how we go.”
“Of course. But, just so you can make a fully informed decision, I’m one hell of a kisser.”
“I’ll take that into consideration, sailor.”
Chapter Six
Willow rapped her knuckles on the cabin door and waited in the cold for Mads to answer. When he arrived, his hair was in complete disarray, and his face was scrunched up with obvious sleepy annoyance. She had seen more emotion on his face in the last couple of days than he had displayed the entire time they had known each other. It was a bit unnerving.
Bracing one forearm against the doorframe, he wiped his hand over his face and blinked until he was able to keep his eyes open.
“Who died?”
“No one,” she said quickly. “At least that I know of.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. Before she could answer, he waved a hand and stood up straight. “I am sorry. That was rude. What is the matter?”
She hesitated. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mads might have actually been asleep. Not even when the lights were off.
“Nothing, really.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said with even more force, before catching himself yet again. “Again, apologies. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to check that you were okay.”
“Yes, my dreams were not too taxing.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think.”
“Well, you are here now,” he grumbled as he threw the door open wide.
He walked away without looking back to see if she came in or not. Willow hesitantly crossed the threshold, her eyes scanning the room even though there was nothing much too see. The cabin was the same as any other and wouldn’t have any hints into Mads’ mind. A part of her was almost expecting to see a small army of bottles standing ready to obliterate his lurking memories. But only the rumpled bed sheets spoke of anyone having been there at all.
Mads slumped down on the end of the bed and ran a hand over his face once more. Finally, Willow’s brain decided to produce some thoughts, and the first one it settled on was ‘skin.’ Dressed only in pajama bottoms, Mads currently had more of his body exposed than she had ever seen. His shoulders and arms had more definition than she would have thought, his torso tapering off to narrow hips.
A light dusting of hair just starting to turn white trailed over his chest and stomach. It looked delicate to the touch and oddly enticing. The urge was so sudden and intense that Willow was left curling her fingers against it and wondering where it had come from at all.
She pushed it aside and cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry I came by so late. I was just worried.”
“I only had a few drinks,” he said.
“I know.”
“The other day was an abnormality. Anyone can have a bad day.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But I had never seen you like that.”
“And I daresay you never will again.”
“Is that because you won’t have the urge, or because you’ll get better locks on your door?”
“I have been meaning to ask,” he said. “Should I make the replacement bill out to your or Jamie?”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It is an unanswerable question,” he said, before stifling a yawn.
“You know you have things outside of your anger, right?”
“Do I?” he challenged.
She shrugged. “You have me. Although that might not seem like a great thing at the moment.”
Mads smiled. It was only a small little tip of his lips, but it spoke volumes. It eased the pressure that had been building in Willow’s chest. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to think that the worst was behind him and that he had somehow managed to find a sense of peace.
“Thank you, Willow,” he said softly. “That actually means quite a lot. And will undoubtedly mean far more at a more appropriate hour.”
“Again, I’m very sorry about that.”
He brushed off the remark with a wave of his hand. “Although, I am exhausted. If perhaps we could continue this conversation at another time.”
“Sure. Of course. I just wanted…I needed you to know that, next time, you can talk to me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“You surely are,” he noted.
“What…What did he tell you about me?”
“Things I will not repeat,” he promised with a rueful smile. “Not even to you.”
“Thank you, Mads.”
“If you still feel the urge to keep an eye on me, I can sleep on the couch.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“But still an offer.”
Willow glanced behind herself at the tiny sofa that Mads wouldn’t be able to fit on without doing a few choice yoga poses.
“I can understand if you do not want to be alone,” he said. “Sometimes, company is a far better option.”
“Yeah,” she smiled weakly. “I’ll take the couch.”
***
Gwen kept the cabin in military order. That made each of the few personal items that did appear among the cheap, standard-issue furniture all the more captivating. It gave each item a mysterious air. What was so significant about a bad horror movie that she would keep the ticket stubs in pride of place on her corkboard? Why did the photograph of her and her brother deserve framing, though no other time or person in her life deserved to be commemorated? And what was up with the princess doll on her bed?
Jamie scooped it up as he fell onto the bed, back propped up against the headboard and socked feet dangling off the side of the mattress. With one hand, he propped the doll onto his stomach and tucked his free hand behind his head. It was just so girly. Not that Gwen wasn’t willing to embrace her feminine side. Her wardrobe stuck to the bare basics, but still had a pair of strappy heels and a sleeveless black dress that he was eager to see her in. But there had to be something very special about this doll for her to keep it, let alone display it.
Maybe her parents gave it to her? That would explain why they didn’t make an appearance in a frame. The doll was the memento. Although, there was the option that she didn’t get along with her family. Some bad blood? Adoption? Maybe the doll was from a past boyfriend. It was silly how much that thought disgusted him. Silly, stupid, but not altogether surprising.
No one became a SEAL without a strong competitive streak. And competitiveness wasn’t something that only cropped up in one part of your life. He was aware of the instinct and controlled it. But that didn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t like the idea of Gwen getting it on with other guys. That wasn’t her problem. It was all his. But it was good motivation to make sure tonight went well. It had be
en a long time since anyone had gotten a rise out of his basic nature.
The sound of the shower clicked off. Jamie’s eyes were on the bathroom door before she opened it. She took two steps inside before she noticed him. A smile firmly in place, he used the doll to give her a quick wave. It took a mammoth amount of effort to keep his eyes from drifting down to her towel’s rather high hem. It didn’t stop him from noticing that Gwen’s frame made the towel about as effective as a bath mat.
“I thought that you were in the living room.”
“Nope,” he said happily. “Right here.”
“I see that now.”
Her hands twisted in the thin slip of fabric, barely able to keep it from exposing a long strip of her torso, along with a few very wondrous sights. Jamie waved the doll again.
“Does it have a name?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Gwen. It’s good to share.”
“Victoria.”
“That’s nice. I like that.”
“I didn’t name her.” She cleared her throat. “It.”
“Well, I like Victoria.” His smile widened at the blush that crept across Gwen’s cheeks. A moment later, his brow furrowed. “You have freckles.”
The small spots of color dusted over her nose and spread across her cheeks, giving an endearing youthfulness to her strong features.
“How did I not notice that before?”
Gwen pulled the towel closer, and she bowed her head. Waterlogged strands of her hair shielded her reddened face from Jamie.
“Cheyanne insists on make up.” Even as her face heated, she still kept her features perfectly schooled. “I don’t see the point in arguing.”
“I do,” he said. “I’ve always had a thing for freckles.”
He had thought it impossible for her blush to deepen any further. He had been wrong.
“Are you going to leave so I can get changed?”
“Only if you ask me to,” Jamie said. “And if it matters at all, I’m actually very comfy.”
She grabbed a set of pajamas from the top drawer of her dresser and left without a word. Left alone, Jamie could only wonder if the reaction had been a step in the right direction or a major setback. In any case, she returned shortly after, scrubbing a towel over her short, wet hair. The pajama shorts were only slightly longer than the towel had been, and this time he let himself enjoy the view.
