Chapter Ten
They didn’t have much to say after that—at least, not to her. Stef politely told her she could go outside to get some fresh air if she wanted, which was a tactful way of asking her to leave so they could confer with each other. She insisted on giving Krista another sandwich.
“Stop being likeable,” Krista scowled at her.
“I can’t help it. I’m a giver. It’s in my nature,” Stef said cheerfully, which annoyed the hell out of Krista, who was trying really hard to hate everyone here and failing miserably.
“Nightmare,” she replied loftily.
Stef still refused to take offense. “Oh, like I’ve never heard that one before. Like you, I bet you get called foxy lady more times a day than you have fingers on your hands. It’s the worst, isn’t it?”
“Right?” Krista rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what is up with that? ‘Let’s fox around, do you want to fox me’… wait! No! We are not bonding, this is not happening!”
“Yes, it is. I’ll buy you drinks after this is all over and we can bitch about men. Shut up, we’re going to be pals, I can feel it.”
Stef, smiling hugely, gave her a finger wave and headed back into the dining room.
“She’s good, isn’t she? Here, don’t want you getting dehydrated.” Mal grinned and shoved a bottle of iced tea at her, which earned him a warning snarl from Blake.
She left the cabin and sat on an Adirondack chair in the front yard, eating and straining her ears, trying to hear what they were saying inside. She was too far away, and she wasn’t in fox form, so she couldn’t pick up anything more than a low buzz no matter how hard she tried. She hoped they weren’t single-mindedly focused on Dawnie because she had meant what she’d said—Dawnie would not hurt a cub.
And if Dawnie wanted to go into business with Mr. Coffman, that gave her even less reason to hurt Ethan.
Finally, the front door banged open, and Blake headed over to her.
She scowled at him. “Do they want to interrogate me some more? Maybe break out the cattle prods?”
“Aren’t we melodramatic.” But he said it with a gleam of humor in his eyes.
“There is no we.” Her fox let out a little growl deep inside at that.
“Not yet,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And we’re done for the night. We’re going to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, so we should head out now. Are you ready to set up camp?”
Her heart sped up, thudding against her rib cage. She and Blake, together in a tent. A sudden vivid image flared through her, the two of them naked, limbs tangled together, his fingers tangled in her hair…
She could just sleep in the SUV. Or he could. He didn’t think they were sharing a sleeping bag, did he? He probably did, the presumptuous son of a bitch. Well, that wasn’t happening. So what if her hormones were raging out of control, screaming to let him claim her? She would just take those feelings and stuff them deep down inside, so deep they suffocated from lack of oxygen.
She arranged her face into an icy, featureless mask.
“Certainly,” she said, stiffening her spine and forcing the word out. She was proud of how dignified and calm she managed to sound.
He looked worried. “You okay? Your lips are moving funny. And your face is turning red. Are you having an allergic reaction?”
“I’m fine!” She backed away from him quickly.
“Are you sure? I should go get Dexter. He was the medic in my unit. Seriously, you don’t look so hot.”
“Well, thank you very much,” she said furiously and stormed off to the SUV. She walked into the side mirror, banging her forehead and bringing tears to her eyes. “I’m fine!” she yelled, and leaped into the car, slamming the door.
Blake hurried after her and jumped into the driver’s seat.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested. “I do think you’re hot! Feverishly hot. I mean… damn it, I’m trying.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel again. She heard it creak in protest and felt a little twinge of worry that he might actually crush it. “I told you, I’m not the smoothest guy around. I don’t know how to sweet talk.”
“Clearly,” Krista said, still stung, as they pulled out of the driveway.
The oddest thing happened as they drove in silence. She could sense that she’d hurt Blake’s feelings. She could feel his pain as her own, throbbing inside her.
She didn’t want to think about what that meant—because as she recalled, that was holler superstition, too. She twisted away from him, doing her sullen-stare-out-the-window thing as they wound down the narrow, unlit road.
