This time I’ve got something worth fighting for.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“So what happened with Brandon?” Jack asks, spooning out the last mouthful of lasagna from his ready-to-eat meal. I finish my food before telling him everything, starting with the hand sanitizer fail and ending with Brandon cornering me against the wall.
“I’m not one hundred percent certain what he was talking about, but he and Chad have both been acting way too sketchy for me to think they’re innocent.”
Jack grunts. “All we have is two sleazy guys who have a thing for you, a very valuable artifact, and a handful of increasingly violent threats. The plan right now is to make it through tonight as uneventfully as possible. Tomorrow, I want to hike to the archaeological site. My colleague there said that aside from a few things going missing, nothing suspicious has jumped out at them. But I’d like to see for myself.”
“Your colleague is the only one who knows about Marigold’s little dagger?”
“Yeah.” He lifts his eyes and lets go of a smirk.
“What’s that look for?”
He chuckles, his mouth splitting into a wide grin as he tipshis face to the sky. “It’s cute that you named your bag. And you make me smile.”
Well then.
I’m officially ninety-nine percent Jell-O.
“I get the feeling you haven’t done a whole lot of that lately…” I venture.
Don’t push too hard, Willow…
“I haven’t,” he admits quietly, and to my surprise, his infamous scowl doesn’t return.
The mountain walls are starting their evening shift, transforming to lilacs and mauves as they exhale with a welcome coolness. It’s the calm before the next act, lending a bit of courage and perhaps a sense of safety in this place of vulnerability.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before,” I say.
Jeez, Willow. Subtle much? Why don’t you just ask the man how many kids he wants?
He turns his head, lifting one dark brow.
“Come on, humor me. I’ve spilled all my dirty laundry in front of you—literally. Give me somethin’.” I nudge his arm with my shoulder. My heart is hammering in my chest because this could go either way. He still looks like a skittish puppy.
He makes me wait another two agonizingly long minutes while the sky competes with the canyon for the most brilliant display of cool hues.
“This case scares me.”
I’m fighting not to crawl into his lap as he looks up, the rugged edge of his Adam’s apple highlighted against the pale sky.
“Why?”
“‘Cause of you.”
“I—”
“It’s not anything you’ve done, Lo. But I’m already a littlemessed up in the head.” He laughs without humor in his voice. “And for some reason, meeting you has stirred up all the crap I’ve tried to ignore for the past three years.”
“I’ve heard that talking about it helps,” I offer and soften my smile, nudging him again and praying to God he doesn’t develop a vulnerability hangover and clam up.
His brows are low, eyes roving over the valley but looking nowhere in particular. He looks mildly panicked, like he’s already said too much, so I turn my face from him and look up at the splendor above us, resting my cheek against his shoulder.
He’s obviously not ready to share more.
Leave it for now,I remind myself.
