“Careful,” he warned as he reached for the arm she’d landed on. “You might have broken something.”
Dreya let him check her arm and ribs, but when he moved lower, running his hands over her ass and hip, she shot him a look that backed him off quick.
“I didn’t break anything but my pride,” she insisted, then gave him a sheepish look. “I was hoping you hadn’t seen that.”
“Why?” He stayed close as she got to her feet, wanting to make sure she could stand on her own. “I never would have pegged you for the tactical type, but that was impressive as hell.”
His words seemed to catch Dreya more off balance than the fall had, and he couldn’t help smiling as she blushed. Dreya could handle a hard impact with the ground, but a compliment from him was too much for her.
“Not bad that time,” Danica called from the walkway. “But Michael is lucky to be alive, and you still never reached the tower at the other end of the course. Let’s set up to go again.”
Dreya groaned. “Again? I’m not sure how many more times I can handle.”
Braden put his hands on her shoulders, angling his head to see into her eyes. “Then don’t worry about how many more times you can do it. Worry about getting through this next one.” When she looked dubious, he gave her a smile. “Besides, if it provides any motivation, you could always imagine how dreadful you’d look in prison orange. Trust me, it’s not your color.”
Dreya snorted, her eyes dancing. “I look good in any color, Detective.”
He was about to tell her that no one looked good in orange, but Clayne interrupted him.
“Come on. We’re wasting daylight.”
Braden smirked. “What was that? That bright green paint on your shirt is so loud, I couldn’t hear a word you were saying.”
Clayne let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl and headed for the far end of the course. Tanner was already out of sight, and Michael was at the starting point.
Braden grinned at Dreya. Even though she was exhausted and probably sore as hell, she smiled.
“You get through this, and I’ll make dinner tonight,” he promised.
She regarded him thoughtfully as she slowly backed her way toward the start. “Can you cook anything besides spaghetti?”
“Sure. I can cook lots of things. Popcorn, for example. And soup, and those frozen burrito things. Give me pretty much anything that can be cooked in the microwave, and I’m your man.”
Dreya laughed, then turned and hurried over to rejoin Michael. Braden stood and watched her. He’d heard her laugh before, but this was the first time it sounded genuine. And damn, if it wasn’t beautiful.
* * *
“I feel like I’m a hundred years old,” Dreya complained as she slowly walked up the stairs to the third-floor dorm room she and Braden shared.
Behind her, Braden snorted. “Trust me, you don’t look a day over eighty.”
She was so exhausted, she couldn’t even work up the energy for a snappy comeback. “Gee, thanks,” she said as she unlocked the door to their dorm room.
She’d always thought she was in good shape, but Danica and Clayne had pushed her harder than she’d ever been pushed in her life. Between the pure physical exertion and the repeated impact with the ground, she was seriously beat. There were some things about today’s training that bothered her a lot more than how sore she was, though.
Like the way Danica and Clayne had kept pairing her up with random DCO operatives. Dreya wasn’t stupid. They were putting her with different people to see who they might be able to partner her up with. That was crazy. As a thief, she’d always worked alone. If she was going to work here—and that sure as heck wasn’t a given—she was going to be like Lucy and occasionally help out other teams on a case-by-case basis.
Then there was the way that Danica seemed to be so casual about revealing what shifters like Dreya could do while Braden was standing right there. Dreya had spent most of the day holding herself back, because she hadn’t wanted him to see her do something she shouldn’t be able to. At least any more than he’d already seen. But then Clayne and Tanner had started running around like some kind of demented track-and-field freaks during the paintball training. Finally, Dreya said the hell with it and cut loose, too.
If Braden suspected anything, he didn’t let on. Which brought Dreya to her next—and biggest—concern. What the hell was up with Braden anyway? The guy was acting like a decent human being all of a sudden. He’d actually seemed worried she’d broken something when she landed awkwardly after taking out Clayne that first time. The terrified way he’d run his hands over her was surprising.
And nice, too—in a completely freaky way that made absolutely no sense to her.
At the time, she’d told herself it was simply a matter of never having someone worry about her like that before. But after thinking about it, she knew it also had something to do with the fact that Braden was a hot guy and that she liked the way his hands felt on her.
She frowned as she walked into her bedroom. It was sad, really. She finally got a sexy man to put his hands on her butt, and it was because he thought she’d hurt herself. Story of her love life.
She grabbed her toiletry bag from the dresser and headed for the bathroom. “I get dibs on the hot water.”
