by Addison Cole
Pratt clenched his jaw and held Jack’s stare. His tall, lanky body was no match for six-four, two-hundred-thirty-pound Jack Remington, but the hurt and anger in Pratt’s eyes looked familiar, and Jack knew he wasn’t contemplating anything physical. A spear of guilt ran through him. There was no turning back now. He’d taken a hard line, and backing down would leave him in a position of lesser authority.
Savannah touched Pratt’s shoulder. She narrowed her beautiful green eyes and set them on Jack. Her smile remained on her lips, but behind the facade, he saw a challenge. His pulse sped up.
“Why don’t we just call him John for now?” she suggested in a firm, nonnegotiable tone.
What the heck are you doing and why? As he pondered her motives, he couldn’t help but notice the way her jeans clung to her lean legs and curved over her hips, then dipped in at the waist. And the blasted tank top she wore was now spotted with perspiration and clinging to her chest.
Look away. Look. Away.
His eyes would not listen to his mind, and he stared right back. “This is my show and I run it my way. He’s part of the team or he’s out,” Jack said.
Savannah took a step forward and pulled her shoulders back. “What are you going to do? Fly us all back to the airport and return our money?”
He met the challenge in her eyes with his own heated stare. “Yes.”
SAVANNAH’S CHEST CONSTRICTED, and a fist tightened in her stomach as jerky Jack Remington stared her down with his black-as-night eyes. He looked like Chris Hemsworth and acted like Alec Baldwin. A wild combination of sweet and bad boy that sent a flutter of sensual excitement through her. She was not going to look away. She’d gone up against meaner wolves than him in the courtroom. She crossed her arms and planted her legs like her brother Rex might do. She’d mastered the Braden stance for the courtroom and on the rare occasion of going head-to-head with some lowlife on the subway. She could do it just as well as her brothers, even if her legs were feeling a tad rubbery at the moment.
Remington didn’t budge. His face was a stone mask of clenched muscles and strength. Savannah felt the worried gaze of the others upon her. She was just about to give in when Pratt stepped forward.
“Pratt, okay? I’m Pratt Smith. Twenty-eight, an artist, and I’m here to…heck…I don’t know. Do something different for a few days. Now can we get on with it?” He looked away from the group.
Jack’s stare had not wavered from Savannah’s, and she knew that if she was the first to look away, just like in court, he’d win. She remained steadfast, though it was difficult not to allow her eyes to drift to the muscles that bulged in his arms.
Pratt picked up his backpack and headed for the woods. Jack grabbed Pratt’s arm and held tight, finally disengaging from his eye lock with Savannah.
“No one hits that trail ahead of me,” Jack said.
Savannah fumed. It was one thing to gain control of a situation and another to be a jerk all the time. Obviously, Pratt was going through something emotional. Why couldn’t ice-hearted Jack see that? Jack wasn’t her problem to fix, and by the sound of him, he needed a lot of fixing. I’m here to fix myself. That’s enough of a challenge.
“We have safety instructions to go over, itineraries, and guidelines. Settle down, and let’s get started.” For the next hour, Jack explained the danger of the mountains—including everything from wild animals and poisonous plants to treacherous cliffs and harsh weather. “You will each carry your gear and your tents. If you can’t carry them, you won’t have them to use. If you don’t like the food, then you’ll drop a few pounds while you’re here. Memorize the laws of three. A person can live only three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food. Got that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Now, for the rules. Rule number one: Never put anything in your mouth without clearing it with me first. Rule number two…”
As he explained the guidelines, trail safety, trail hygiene, and other details Savannah was sure were important, she couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t help but scrutinize their leader. He spoke with a deep, commanding voice—one that made her wonder what it might sound like in a dark bedroom. No matter who or what he looked at, whether it was one of the others in the group or a plant he was pointing out, his gaze was so intense that it made Savannah shiver. Attached to his belt was a long leather sheath with a black knife handle sticking out of the top. Danger. That’s what came to mind when Savannah looked at Jack Remington. Even as she drank in every inch of his rock-hard body, he never shifted his eyes in her direction. In fact, he hadn’t looked at her since the one quick inspection he’d given her when she’d first come around the plane. Savannah was used to men taking a second glance at her. At five nine, she was hard to miss, but to not even garner a second glance? That rubbed her in all the wrong ways.
“How far are we walking today?” she asked.
Jack answered while looking at Aiden. “Three miles, and the only one that’s allowed to get tired is Aiden, and if he does, as we discussed”—Jack lifted his eyes to Lou and Lou nodded—“his mother or father will have to carry him.” He put a large hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “You hear that, buddy? If you get tired, your parents will have to carry you, and that’s a hard job, getting up this mountain, so can you be strong?”
Aiden nodded.
Jack’s cheeks lifted, and his smile brightened his eyes and softened his harsh edges. “Of course you can.”
Maybe you do have a softer side.
He addressed Elizabeth and Lou. “There’s no cell service up here. We talked about this, and you know the risks. It’s your job to keep track of Aiden at all times, not mine or anyone else’s. Got it?”
So much for the softer side. You really are a jerk.
Ten minutes later, they were making their way through the dense woods. Though they entered through what looked like a trail, the flattened landscape had faded fast, and Savannah had no idea how Jack could possibly know where they were headed. They were in the midst of two hundred thousand acres with no cell phone service with a guy who didn’t know empathy from apathy. How on earth would she heal herself when being led by someone like him? She reminded herself that one of the main reasons she’d chosen this particular camp was that there would be no cellular service. If Connor couldn’t reach her, he couldn’t try to lure her back. Whether Jack’s a jerk or not, I’m going to succeed, and when I get home, I’ll be stronger for it.
She’d never been particularly lucky in love, and after watching four out of five of her brothers find their forever loves, she longed for more. If her brothers knew how Connor had treated her, they wouldn’t care that she was a thirty-plus-year-old woman who could take care of herself. They would go after him without an ounce of hesitation—then they’d console her. It was after the consoling that worried her, when they’d look at her with pity in their eyes, not understanding how their bullheaded, smart-mouthed sister could ever allow a man to treat her that way. That was why she never told them. It’s complicated. That had been her stance on her relationship with Connor.
Other attorneys had gone so far as to call her Bulldog Braden because she was relentless in the pursuit of right and wrong. So why can’t I be that relentless when it comes to my heart? This trip was supposed to help her climb back into the armor she’d once worn and never allow herself to be treated that way again. She eyed Jack Remington as he pushed through thick branches and stomped over fallen trees. His muscles glistened against the afternoon sun. So what if he’s hot? He’s probably a bigger jerk than Connor. And if she read the shadows in his eyes correctly, he was also dangerous. A bad combination for a girl on the rebound. She thought about the article that had made this weekend sound like the perfect remedy for women who had lost their edge. Stupid article. There was no doubt that this trip was a mistake.
A big, giant mistake.
Chapter Two
THE SUN BEGAN to drift toward the trees as the afternoon slowly turned to evening. The first day out, or what Jack l
iked to call the Day of Impact, would give him a clear indication of where each student stood, both mentally and physically. So far, they all seemed to be faring well, including Aiden. Jack glanced behind him at the boy, who held on to his father’s hand like a security blanket. He was a cute little guy with bright blue eyes and white-blond hair. His gut twisted, and a familiar lump formed in his throat as he thought about the unused nursery in his chalet. The night of the storm came rushing back like shards of glass being driven into his heart. He never should have let Linda leave the house, but he’d been so wrapped up in his work that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—pull away.
A shriek pulled him from the memory. He whipped around with his large knife in hand, knees bent. Josie huddled against Savannah’s side, her arms pulled in close, fear in her eyes.
“She thought she saw a snake,” Savannah said as she brushed Josie’s black hair from her shoulders. Josie’s skin was milky white, and her eyes were a vibrant blue, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll…in jeans and clunky hiking boots.
For a moment, Jack didn’t move. A snake? You freaked out over a snake? Elizabeth and Lou stepped in front of Aiden, as if that might protect him from the snake. Jack looked down at the knife in his hand. Or protect him from me? Pratt stood off to the side with a smirk on his thin lips, shaking his head. Jack stole a glance at Savannah, who didn’t look shaken up or amused. She had one hand on Josie’s back and the other on her cheek.
“It’s okay,” Savannah assured her.
The kindness in Savannah’s voice spiked a memory in Jack. It’s okay. I’ll go. Linda’s voice crept through his mind. He turned back around and ran his hand through his hair. Love you, Linda had said before walking out the door. He hadn’t even answered her. He’d made a noise. A grunt. That familiar love-you-too noise that couples make when they’re too busy to give their spouse the time they deserve. Two long years and not once did a woman’s voice ever bring back that moment. What was it about Savannah Braden that had his mind twisting in ways it never had and his body noticing the beauty of a woman again for the first time?
He turned back around to the group and shoved his knife back into its sheath.
“We’re in the woods. What part of that don’t you understand?” Jack knew he was fuming at himself in the memory, but he couldn’t stop the hurt from coming out as anger. “Was I not clear back there? Snakes live here. We are the interlopers. We are the villains, not them. If you shriek, that tells me there’s a bigger danger—a bear, a coyote, a madman—something that we really do need to worry about. A snake will slither away.” As he turned back to continue the hike, he noticed that the smirk had left Pratt’s lips, replaced with a furrowed brow. His eyes shifted across the woods. He wanted to know what expression Savannah wore, but now not only did he have to avoid eye contact, it was apparent that he needed to avoid verbal contact as well.
“You don’t have to be such a jerk. She’s young. She got scared. Cut her a break.”
He took one step and stopped at the sound of Savannah’s aggressive accusation. He let out a breath and turned back around, meeting Josie’s eyes instead of the challenge in Savannah’s. He calmed his voice enough to speak instead of yell. “Let’s try to keep the screaming to a minimum.”
JACK IGNORED SAVANNAH all afternoon. When she’d challenged his answers, he’d shaken his head, and when she’d asked questions, he hadn’t looked at her when he answered. Now Savannah sat on a log at what would be their base camp, struggling to put together the poles to her tent, and there was no way she’d ask him for help. What was she doing here anyway? She grew up on a ranch with a house, working toilets and showers, and horses to ride up mountains. She had no camping experience, and she hadn’t had time to research how to construct the darn tent before leaving for the trip. When she’d purchased it, she had been so busy worrying if leaving town was the right thing to do that she’d completely zoned out and hadn’t registered a word of the salesman’s lengthy instructions. She hadn’t had time to do much of anything before making the impetuous, stupid decision to go to survival camp. Why hadn’t she listened to Max, her brother Treat’s new wife? She should have gone to one of the many retreats they owned instead of coming into the wild to live like a Neanderthal alongside this mountain madman. When Jack had spun around with that enormous knife in his hand, all she could do was remain silent and still. Her mind had screamed, Run! but her legs had been rooted in place. And the way his eyes had changed in an instant—as if the slightly crazy woodsman had turned into a wounded puppy and then morphed right back into the angry man—had rattled her.
Elizabeth, Lou, and Aiden had their tent fully constructed. Pratt helped Josie with her stakes, and Savannah wrestled with getting the poles through the stupid little rings of vinyl. Each time she got one in, another would slip out before she could secure the two pieces together. She plopped down on a fallen tree and let out a loud breath, then took it all apart and started over. I could be in a five-star resort right now in Hawaii, or Nassau, or anywhere else other than these stinking woods. Maybe I should call someone to come pick me up. Treat would charter a plane to rescue me. Savannah and her brothers had significant trust funds, though none of them flaunted their wealth. But at a time like this, an extravagant expenditure seemed like an acceptable thing to consider. She shoved one pole through the loop and finally secured the other to it, pinching her finger in the process.
“Darn it,” she snapped and put the hurt finger in her mouth.
Jack looked over with a pinched and annoyed look on his face, then turned and walked away.
Jerk. Wasn’t he supposed to be teaching them? How was this teaching? She’d show him if it took all night. She struggled with the next set of poles, determined to get the tent set up without any help.
She heard Josie tell Pratt, “We should help Savannah.”
Pratt headed in her direction.
“I got it. I’m fine,” she snapped. Savannah was capable of doing anything they were. She was just having trouble focusing. She glanced at Jack standing with his back to the group, his hands on his hips while he looked out over the ravine below, and narrowed her eyes. It’s you. She’d lost her edge when she was with Connor, and Jack’s attitude wasn’t helping. It was time she got it back.
In the courtroom, she’d know her next move by watching the jury’s reactions to her opponent. She scanned the other tents, noting their construction. She didn’t need instructions. She needed only to focus. In the next few minutes, she was able to visually match the construct of the other tents. She was done being the helpless woman. I’m reclaiming my mojo, so watch out, Jack Remington. There’s nothing I can’t do.
Jack turned to address the group. The sun illuminated his wide shoulders, and the way the land fell away behind him, his six-four frame looked larger than life.
Why do you have to be such a jerk? She gritted her teeth, wondering if she’d be the only Braden unable to find love. Men suck. Not that I’m looking. She was done with them, but it would be reassuring to know that nice men still existed.
Jack’s deep voice boomed through the campsite. “Grab your canteens, and if you want to wash up for the night, bring your towels. We’re only going down to the stream once tonight.” Jack’s eyes darted all over the darn campsite except within ten feet of her.
She fell in step beside Elizabeth, wishing she’d worn her hiking boots. Back home, she could walk for days in her cowgirl boots, but this mountain was a whole different story. What was I thinking?
“How’s Aiden holding up?” she asked.
“He’s got more energy than me and Lou put together. He’s doing great, but he’s completely enamored with Jack.” She nodded to the two, walking up ahead side by side. Aiden’s head was cocked to the side as he looked up at Jack. He was rattling off questions in rapid succession. Jack answered each one as he led them to the stream. Savannah noticed the softer tone he used with Aiden and that every so often—usually when he looked at Aiden—he rubbed a long white scar on t
he back of his left arm.
“He’s not exactly the nicest guy, is he?” Savannah said.
Elizabeth leaned in closer to Savannah and brought her hand up and shielded her mouth, like she was sharing a secret. “You know about his wife, right?”
“Wife?” She had noticed his lack of a wedding ring.
Elizabeth lowered her voice, and her brown eyes filled with empathy. “She died, and that’s why he moved to the mountains. From what I’ve heard, he was devastated. Couldn’t function. Came out here to…I don’t know what…but his instincts took over and he’s never really gone back, except for holidays with his family and an occasional night at the house he and his wife shared.”
“That’s terrible.” She looked at Jack and her heart ached for him. No wonder he was so full of venom. “I thought he was in the military.”
“He was. He finished his tour the year she died. I think he was planning on reupping, but…instead he kind of left the real world behind,” Elizabeth said.
They walked in silence while Savannah chewed on this new and startling information. It explained so much and yet at the same time explained nothing at all. She thought of her father, Hal Braden, and how after her mother died, he’d carried on without faltering. Of course, he’d had to. He was left with six children to raise. To this day, he still claimed to speak with her from beyond the grave. She knew he would never let the memory of her mother go, and she wondered if Jack would be haunted by his wife forever, too. She watched him descend the steep hill, wondering if that was where his anger stemmed from or if he was a mean-spirited person by nature.
The wide body of water looked nothing like a stream, but rather like a slow-moving river. At the bottom of the hill, Jack bent down and ran his fingers in the water.
Savannah unscrewed the top of her canteen, walked to the water’s edge, and crouched to fill her canteen. Jack grabbed her arm before she could dip it beneath the surface.
