“Wanna know my deepest, darkest secret?” I volunteer.
“With everything in me.” He chuckles, and his shoulder lowers a fraction.
“I find the fox from the animatedRobin Hoodmovie attractive.”
He snorts, and in my peripheral I can see his cheeks lifting.
“I know it makes no sense,” I continue, “It’s the swagger.”
He lazily hoists himself to stand. “I never had a chance, then,” he mutters with that bewildered glint in his eyes like he thinks he has no swagger. And I think that’s part of what makes him even more attractive. He’s not even trying.
He offers me a hand before pulling me upright. “Time for bed.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you offer to buy me a drink first, Cowboy?”
“Let’s get ready tosleep,” he drawls and releases my hand, turning his head to hide the smirk that’s creeping onto his face. It must be so hard for a seasoned grump like him to find himself surrounded by all this adorability.
We have no tents, so setting up for bed takes a whole three minutes. Jack hangs our backpacks on a tree growing out of therocky overhang above us. I make him walk with me to a brush-covered spot where I can regretfully take care of business, but have him turn his back and plug his ears while I hum the tune fromRobin Hood.
Back at our little outcropping, we each pull out toiletries, making use of the last glow of light before the stars claim their place as brightest wonder for the night.
Brushing my teeth in front of him is a strangely intimate act. No words are spoken, but things we’re both too scared to say dance in our eyes, toothbrushes in our mouths, no mirrors to hide behind. Every cell in my body is reaching out to him, charging the molecules around us.
I’m very aware that I look like a rabies-infested rat with foam pouring out of my mouth. Being in my wild-woman era is turning out less aesthetic than expected. But he doesn’t seem to mind this version of me.
Jack breaks eye contact first, and we finish rinsing our mouths with the mountains as witnesses to the tension prickling between us.
I don’t feel like three days is too short a time to know someone before kissing them. I’ve kissed guys sooner. And I really want to kiss him. Does his aversion to touch extend to lip contact, too? I’m prepared to argue the case against it if I need to.
My hands tremble as I pull out my jacket, the one with the tear in it. Our current elevation is higher than before, and the cooler temperature means my already pathetic sleeping bag will do a sloppy job of keeping me warm tonight.
Zipping the jacket up isn’t easy with my fingers shaking, and Jack turns to me when I huff out an exhale. His hands gently push mine away, stepping close enough that his breath tickles my skin while he drags the zipper up.
The things he said about himself earlier won’t stop tumblingaround in my mind. The fact that this man thinks he’s messed up in the head is both maddening and heartbreaking. I still don’t know his story, but there’s not a whisper of a doubt that he’s being too hard on himself.
He slides the zipper up to my neck, his steel-colored eyes sending every butterfly in my stomach into a frenzy. I’m aching to kiss away the anguish I see in the depths of those eyes, yet I know no kiss is that powerful. At best, it’ll let him know I care, and hopefully he’ll feel safe enough to let me in. I’m afraid this obsessive need to control his surroundings and keep me safe is at war with the part of him that’s probably beginning to realize how little power he has over any of that.
My hands rest on his chest as he trails the back of his fingers along my neck, settling his hand on my jaw.
Okay, so forget everything I’ve thought over the past few minutes, because this kiss is happening. Jack leans forward, teasing me by leaving a mere inch of space between us, and I allow my eyes to fall closed. The warmth of his mouth barely brushes against my lips before we’re startled apart, and a scream rips from my throat.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The sudden sound of splintering rocks causes Jack and I to flinch away from one another, and I scream in terror when bits of stone and pebbles shoot off the nearby outcrop in tiny bursts. He curses, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back in at the unmistakable crack of a bullet lodging itself into the rockface.
A sting pierces my arm and then my forehead as shards of rock are sent flying with another two shots. A breath later, Jack slams onto the ground, caging my body with his.
We’re going to die.
Someone is shooting at us and I’m going to die. Jack might survive because he has the skills, but this place already has it out for me, and I’ve been chosen as a sacrifice.
“I think we’ve skipped a few steps in our relationship,” I mutter, trying to focus on the comforting weight of his pressing against mine.
My mind latches onto a tiny snag in the collar of his T-shirt, and I almost lift a hand to brush at it, curious to know whether it’s rock debris or a thread that’s been hooked in the fabric.
“Willow! Are you listening to me?”
“Mm-hmm.” I roll my lips in, nodding as my heart pounds.
