“Trying to keep you safe, Princess, seeing as you’re not very good at it. What were you doing out there anyway?”
I purse my lips, giddy at the opportunity to stir the pot. It’s quite obvious he’s having a very strong reaction to a mildly concerning situation, and I wonder what happened to make this man think he has to save everybody. If I come right out and ask him, he’ll just clam up, like a porcupine, all prickly and determined not to let anyone close. This requires a different approach—a sneak attack. He won’t even see it coming.
“I can’t go divulging my secrets.” I cross my arms. “How do I know I can trust you?”
He continues to stare, unfolding a muscled arm to pull out a badge hanging around his neck.
“Pfff,” I scoff, adding an eyeroll because I know it annoys him. Or maybe he loves it, but he’s still in denial about my allure. “Anyone can buy a badge, and those who have real ones can still be A-holes. I need to know what makes you tick. We need a test.”
“You need to givemea test before you can take your own safety seriously?”
“You want my secrets, I need to know you’re not a psychopath. What if you’re a doll collector or you like jazz?” I narrow my eyes.
Jack doesn’t flinch. “You are a very strange woman, and nobody likes jazz. They just pretend to.”
“Thank you. And I’m glad we can agree on something. How did you find me, anyway?”
“I followed the sound of someone humming ‘Just Around The Riverbend’,” he drawls, a frown cut sharply across his face.
“Oh.” I’d forgotten I was humming. The winding creek and current life circumstances made it feel appropriate. “Shall we commence with our game?” I push ahead with a smile.
He sighs. “If we must.”
“We must.” I nod, finding a rock to perch on and folding my hands in my lap. “Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I say a word. Don’t overthink it, just blurt out whatever jumps into your head.”
I get an eyeroll and a nod in response, the faintest suggestion of his lips curling before his mouth draws into a grim line, and his shoulders squaring like he’s bracing for an inquisition.
“First word:night.” I begin.
“Armor,” he replies without hesitating.
“Green.”
“Uniform.”
Interesting.
“Freckle.”
“Cute,” he returns, surprising me.
“Failure.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Jack.” His name falls from my lips in a softened tone, my eyes asking him things I know he keeps barricaded. “Failure is how we learn. It’s how wegrow.”
“Not if it costs too much. Is it my turn now?” His posture isonce again rigid, defenses strengthened. I just want to hug him, but something in his expression begs me not to pick at the wound he’s revealed. It’s almost painful, reeling in my instinct to draw out more of his secrets. But this bear needs space before trying to dig at the thorn lodged in his paw.
“Have at it, Mr. Wilson.”
One dark brow rises with a slow nod, a small grin fighting itself onto his face. “Pineapple.”
“Pizza,” I reply, earning me a narrowed gaze.
“Tomato.”
“Denethor.”
