Door propped open with his forearm, Sam paused. “Then you meet me in Seattle.”
“What’s in Seattle?”
“Not a damn thing.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
“Watch your step.”On a steep decline, Chase turned to help Gray find her footing on the rocky slope. Her ankle protested with every step, but she refused to acknowledge the ache. If she did, the rest of her body would board the pain train, and then she’d be fucked.
Well, more fucked than she was already. Traipsing through the forest in the pouring rain with an annoyingly cheerful dickhead wasn’t her idea of a good time. “Are we almost there?”
“Five more minutes.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago, Rambo. Either you’re a terrible liar, you can’t navigate for shit, or your fucking watch is broken.”
He laughed. “Tactical recon is my specialty. Navigation, especially around here, isn’t an issue. Lake’s at the bottom of this ridge.”
“Why especially around here?” Damn it. Gray couldn’t help herself. Curious about the soldier who held her hand, she continued to ask question after question despite telling herself getting to know him was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
The more he talked, the more she liked hearing him talk. A natural-born storyteller, he had a way of pulling her in, and giving her glimpses of a happy home life as an only child with two loving parents.
“Tak and I spent our summers on Ross Lake.”
“Your best friend from Seattle? The one who joined the marines when you did?”
He squeezed her hand, keeping her upright when she slid on the mucky slope. “Yeah. His uncle has a cabin at the south end of the lake. We spent a lot of time there as kids. Hiking, fishing, backwoods camping, that kind of thing. God, I’ll never forget the time Tak sat his dumb ass on a porcupine.”
Soaked straight through to her socks and feeling the chill, Gray shuddered. “A porcupine?”
“A big one.”
“How the fuck does someone sit on a porcupine?”
Chase snorted. “He was a little drunk at the time. We were seventeen, running wild through these mountains, and Tak had stolen a six-pack from his uncle’s cooler. We chugged about two beers each but made the mistake of eating an entire can of baked beans with the bull trout we caught. An hour later, our stomachs were rumbling.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yeah. Tak had it worse than I did. He took off running and had his pants around his ankles before he looked where he was squatting. That poor porcupine didn’t see the shit coming until it was too late, and Tak ended up with a butt full of quills.”
“Ouch, and also super gross.”
“Yep.”
“So what happened?”
“Tak never ate beans again.”
Gray pulled up short, wrested her hand free, and whacked Chase on the arm. “I meant with the quills.” He invaded her personal space, and shorter than him by a few inches, she lifted her chin to maintain eye contact.
He lowered his head until his lips damn near met hers. “You ever pull quills out of your best friend’s ass?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch and, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by the marine, she resisted the urge to plant her mouth against his. However, no amount of mental will could force her body to take a step back. “No.”
“Well, I don’t recommend it. Hurts you more than it does them.” He lifted his hand toward her cheek and plucked a leaf out of her hair. “How’s the ankle?”
“Sore.” No point in lying. He’d seen her slip, slide, and hobble for the last two-plus hours.
