“Are we?” He sat down. “You actually want to?”
She shrugged. “Haven’t we been?”
“I seem to recall the only thing you had to say to me before was how many different ways your father was going to kill me.”
He shouldn’t have mentioned that, or was he just testing the waters, so to speak, since she hadn’t yelled at him once since he’d returned to the cabin. She was probably being too cordial. She’d be suspicious herself over such a complete about-face.
So she gave him a nasty glare before saying, “That was then, this is now.”
“And what’s different?”
“The bloody length of the trip, that’s what!”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Worried about boredom?”
“It crossed my mind,” she mumbled.
Mortimer had finished his food by then and stood up to tell Damon, “I’d rather use a hammock tonight.”
“It won’t fit in front of the door.”
“Is that really necessary? I can hold the key for you.”
“You sleep like a log,” Damon replied. “You’re merely a fail-safe.”
“You two bicker like old hens,” Jacqueline put in with a tsk. “A full day has passed and I’m not stupid. Jumping ship is no longer an option.”
“And we’d believe you why?” Mortimer asked as he spread his bedding in front of the door.
“D’you think I care if you do or not?” she retorted caustically.
“And now who’s bickering?” Damon said.
Nothing else was said after that, so she regretted inviting Damon to sit at the table, especially when she felt his eyes on her whether she looked his way or not. And she was getting tired. Who knew boredom could be exhausting.
It wasn’t quite dusk so no lanterns had yet been lit and might not be when she wasn’t the only one who’d had an exhausting day. Finished eating, she stood up, but glanced at Damon when he mentioned, “You might be feeling a bit salty from your swim last night. I meant to offer you a bath earlier but got distracted. Would you like one now, Jack?”
Before she could reply, Mortimer said, “Bloody hell, Damon, I’m already bedded down. Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”
Damon ignored his friend and was looking at her, awaiting her answer. This was something else he’d never offered her before, and yes, she would dearly love a bath, just not tonight with the two of them in the cabin.
“Do I get to hold the key while you two are on the other side of the door?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“Smart girl,” Mortimer mumbled.
She ignored the blond and headed to her cot, tossing back at Damon, “I do still hate you.” She just wished it sounded more convincing.
After she’d hit her pillow a few times and curled on her side facing the bulkhead, she heard Mort say in a near whisper, “Does she think you’re not sure?”
“There’s always room for doubt.”
Mortimer snorted. “You’ve got stitches to prove otherwise.”
“But they’re such nice stitches.” Damon chuckled.
