A tall, dark-haired guy manned the grill while the other two sat on the tabletop, swigging beer and chatting. One of them, the more attractive one, wore a baseball cap and had a sturdy build. The othersported longish blond hair and a beard and looked like he might’ve already eaten too many burgers.
They seemed harmless enough, just a few friends enjoying the great outdoors. The tension seeped from her muscles.
“Long way to come to grill out.” Wyatt was still staring at their neighbors.
“Depends where they’re coming from.”
“Did they have to set up so close?”
“Maybe they like to socialize.”
Just then the guy with the cap looked at them—at her. His gaze swung to Wyatt next.
“No doubt.” Unsmiling, Wyatt held the man’s gaze for a long moment.
“Lighten up,” Grace whispered. No need to make enemies of them after all.
The guy finally gave Wyatt a nod, then turned a smile on Grace. “Want to join us? We have a couple extra burgers, some hot dogs. Luke made brownies—they might be edible.” He got an elbow from the other guy on the table.
“No thanks,” Wyatt said before Grace could answer.
“We brought plenty of food,” Grace added.
“Suit yourself.” The guy turned back around.
Grace gave Wyatt a look. “You got something against burgers? You could be a little friendlier.”
“I said ‘thanks.’”
“They have brownies. And he’s kind of cute.” Why did she say that?
His face unreadable, Wyatt looked back over at the table. A moment later he began cleaning up his trash. “I’ll start the fire.”
Grace finished her meal in peace. When she was done she bagged her trash and pushed it underneath the log teepee Wyatt had made along with the dried bark he’d collected.
“Somebody was an Eagle Scout.”
He took out a lighter, thumbed it, and the tip lit with asnick.The kindling caught fire quickly and slowly spread to the smaller logs.
Grace took a seat on a nearby log, shucked her boots.Ah, much better.She had blisters forming on her heels. It had been a while since she’d worn the boots.
She crossed her arms against the breeze. It would get down to the low sixties tonight, and a fire would go a long way toward chasing off the chill. What were they going to do until bedtime? Wyatt wasn’t exactly talkative, and though she had a lot more questions about who he was and what he did, he’d probably answered them as thoroughly as he planned to.
She was still a little miffed about that. Seeing that gun had unsettled her, and she didn’t like being unsettled. It made her question things. Like what was so significant about this place he was searching for? Was something buried there? Treasure? Stolen money? A body?
A country song kicked up at the nearby campsite, something by Keith Urban. The guys were now settled at the table, wolfing down their burgers in the waning light, their chatter and laughter carrying over.
Wyatt sat across the fire from her, carving something from a small block of wood he’d pulled from his pack. She couldn’t deny he looked handsome in the firelight. Handsome and slightly dangerous. But maybe that was the flickering shadows—or the knowledge that he was packing.
She remembered his promise that he’d never hurt her. The fervent look in his eyes. If he was a liar he was a darned good one.
The campfire’s sparks shot into the sky, then sputtered out. The smell of smoke was a pleasant reminder of many childhood bonfires and campfires. She’d camped at least once every summer with herdad and Levi. She missed her dad so much. Missed both her parents. Sometimes it was still hard to believe they were gone.
She glanced at Wyatt, wondering about his parents, his childhood. He was aloof and hard to read. She could practically feel the silence getting heavier. “What are you making over there?”
“A cross.”
“What for?”
