“I was busy with other things.” He reached over and turned on an LED lantern.
She felt a little guilty. “I fell asleep on you.”
“Best thing you could’ve done.” He handed her another bottle of water. “Drink up.”
“In a minute.” After hiking through the blizzard in less than ideal gear, she’d never thought she’d be too warm again, but the cool air on her bare legs felt good. Refreshing. Energizing. Deliberately ignoring the embarrassing fact that she wasn’t fully dressed, she darted down the hall to the restroom. On her way back to their indoor campsite behind the sales counter, she noticed he had their clothes hanging up near an air vent to dry. She checked the pockets inside the coat and discovered the diamonds were still there.
She touched the pants, still damp, and shivered at the idea of wearing those layers again. It was probably wrong to hope Tate and Baker had been overcome by the storm and wouldn’t threaten or rob anyone ever again.
“Here.” Wyatt folded a blanket in half and wrapped it around her waist. “You don’t need to get chilled again.”
“Too late,” she said. “I was thinking about Tate and Baker.”
“Forget them. If they followed my advice, they’re safe enough at the mining museum.”
“Is it wrong of me to hope they didn’t make it?” Wrapped in the blanket, she shuffled along as he went into the kitchenette. “So what now? Do you call the FBI and tell them where they can pick up the loser duo?”
“The FBI is grounded,” he said. “They can’t move until the storm passes.” He put a cup of soup in the microwave and punched the buttons, refusing to look at her.
“No,” she said, suddenly understanding what he was considering. “You can’t go up against them alone.”
He was searching the cabinets. “I’m definitely not taking you.”
The arrogant tone lanced through her. All the warm intimacy of the past hours, his care and comfort, the sweet familiarity of having her best friend back in her life, soured. She’d lived here, invested her money and her soul in the community over the past eleven years. The robbery was a personal affront, Cordell and his crew a blight on the community. She wouldn’t let Wyatt leave her out now.
A growl rose in her throat as he set the cup of steaming soup in front of her. With a show of wisdom, he backed away. “Evie, you passed out a few hours ago.”
She spooned up soup, inhaling the savory aroma. “I didn’t have the right gear.” She sipped the broth, let the heat slidedown her throat. “I was dehydrated. Both problems can be solved now.”
“You’ve been through?—”
She cut him off with a sharp look. “Everyone’s been through stuff. Me. You.” She paused as he brought his own cup of soup to the small table. “Maybe some food will restore your common sense.”
He frowned into the wisp of steam rising from the cheery red and white container.
The silence wasn’t so friendly this time, the only sounds breaking the tension were the wind buffeting the building outside and the softer sounds of two people enjoying hot soup. Somewhere in the fog of her hypothermia, she remembered the touch of those lips against her hair, the delicate skin of her temple. He’d demonstrated such care after shocking her at the casino.
“Without me, where would you have spent the night?” she asked.
His lips twisted a grim resignation in his eyes. “With Cordell and Baker, wherever we could have survived until the meet.”
“Wyatt, he held a gun to your head.”
“He’s not the first,” Wyatt replied too easily.
She tensed from head to toe, a far different kind of chill moving over her skin. How could he be so cavalier about his life? Hemeantsomething to her. Regardless of what tomorrow held, she wouldn’t let him throw his life away. “That’s no excuse to leave yourself open to a worst-case scenario.”
“No room for worst-case. I’m here with you.” He drank more water, then set the bottle down, his face serious. “I’m thinking any reward money I get should go to you.” He leaned forward, determination in his blue eyes. “I could be the right investor for Cottonwood.”
“Reparations?”
He nodded, still not meeting her gaze.
“So if you don’t survive an encounter with Tate and Baker, how does that work for me? I’ll just waltz into the nearest FBI office, drop the diamonds on the desk and tell them you sent me to collect?”
“Actually, that could work,” he said with a smile. “With either the casino or the FBI. The casino security footage would support your claim. You’d have the money to invest in your business.”
“Oh.” Her fingers dug into the blanket keeping her legs warm. She might wring his neck after all, if he didn’t give up this idea of becoming a martyr for her.
