The air rushed from his lungs in a startled gasp.
Meredith cringed with embarrassment.God, what was wrong with her?Why had she groped him like that?It had been an involuntary action, an instinctive reflex.She hadn’t meant to give him an exploratory squeeze.She hadn’t meant to touch him at all.She’d been trying to get away, damn it!In her frantic attempt to avoid skimming Wade’s belly, she’d fallen on top of him and made full-frontal contact.
“Sorry,” she choked out, and jerked her hand away.She didn’t get far, because she was caught up on something, like a tangled thread.She redoubled her efforts, desperate to escape.Her clumsy motions didn’t help.
“Stop yanking,” he said, his teeth clenched.He grasped her wrist.Yanking?She searched for the source of the problem.Her pinky finger had gotten wrapped up in the drawstring of his sweatpants.The fabric was pulled high and taut.Judging by his tense face, he wasn’t enjoying the sensation.As soon as she freed herself, he loosened the drawstring and adjusted himself with a strangled sound of relief.Apparently, she’d given him a serious wedgie.
Meredith clapped a hand over her mouth.Her tension dissolved into nervous giggles, which she couldn’t control any more than she could have controlled her wild thrashing a moment ago.She tried to smother her laughter, but it bubbled out of her, unbidden.What the hell was wrong with her?How many times could she injure him, with her pets as accomplices?
“I’m so sorry,” she said.“That was an accident.”
“Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me?First you shoot at me, then you lead me down a set of broken stairs…”
He seemed amused, rather than angry.Her laughter faded and her heart rate slowed.When she hazarded a glance at him, he was staring at her legs.She was on the floor next to him, close enough to touch, and her T-shirt had ridden up to expose her plain white panties.He didn’t appear to find them too boring to look at.Her breath caught in her throat.His eyes rose to her face, molten gold in the moonlight.
Her chest tightened with a new kind of distress as she realized her predicament.She was half-naked on the floor with a man she’d just met.He was shirtless, his body radiated power, and his expression revealed sexual interest.She scrambled away from him as fast as her quivering legs would take her.
He made no move to detain her, and he didn’t speak.He just watched her intently.She stood at a safe distance.He settled onto his back with a low groan.She wasn’t sure how to interpret this response.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said finally.
She crossed her arms over her chest.“You didn’t scare me.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
He didn’t call her on the lie.“I won’t touch you, okay?Trust me.I don’t want to start anything.”
Meredith wasn’t the only one lying.He was lying, too.Lying to her, or lying to himself.He’d wanted to start something a minute ago.Instead of letting the subject drop, she blurted out, “You’d turn me down if I propositioned you?”
His gaze wandered to her bare legs.“Are you going to do that?”
“No.”
“Then yes, I’d turn you down.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his wry tone.He was charming man, handsome as sin and clearly aware of his own appeal.He had an engaging smile and a quick wit.His lightheartedness put her at ease, and she felt more confident now that she was out of his reach.She made a mental note to stay that way.
Clever, attractive men were dangerous.They influenced everyone around them.Once you were in their orbit, basking in the glow of their attention, you were helpless.A prisoner to their cult of personality.
She couldn’t afford to be a prisoner again.
So, she said goodnight to Wade, very formally, and scooped up Chico, hugging him tight to her chest as she fled.
Chapter Five
Wade woke beforedawn, disoriented.
He hadn’t slept well on the floor, though the conditions had been comfortable enough for one night.He’d camped out in the open like a cowboy plenty of times, and he wasn’t picky.The blankets made a thick barrier underneath him.Still, he hadn’t felt at peace.He’d been plagued by the aftereffects of a harrowing day.When he finally drifted off, he had a nightmare about his mother.She’d been stuck in the tornado rubble, motionless.After he’d freed her from a shallow grave of debris, her blue eyes had sprung open.
“You’re not my son,” she’d said.
He’d jolted upright, unsettled by the dream, and the unfamiliar setting.He could hear livestock in the distance, and birds chirping in the nearby trees.His phone lay underneath his pillow, battery dead.He hadn’t been able to charge it due to the power outage.His legs were tangled in a lightweight blanket.Despite the coolness of the morning, his chest had a damp patch of sweat, and his lungs sawed for breath.
Jesus.
Wade grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack and drank deep.He closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.
