His thoughts went back to the way Lyla fit next to him. “I’ve been in worse.”
“Worse than reminding Mrs. Davenport of her Spanish lover?”
Nic screwed up his face. “That was a first.”
“Again, I am so sorry.” Lyla shook her head. “Mrs. Davenport has been trying forever to arrange forMasonand me to be together. I had no idea innocent playdates of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were a lure.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Yesterday, she put me on the spot when she mentioned Mason was back in town. I knew where she was headed. I told her I had a boyfriend. When she asked for his name, yours was the first one that popped into my head. I am so, so sorry.”
It was ridiculous to feel any kind of gratification that his name was the first she thought of or that he was found worthy over Memphis.
“I promise I’ll tell them the truth as soon as we get back.” She sent him a sly smile. “Or we can hang out here and wait them out.”
“Oh, and here I thought you just wanted to enjoy the beautiful scenery with me and Buttercup.”
Lyla smirked, then looked around. A breeze sent some oak leaves raining down between them. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
Not compared to you. The rogue thought didn’t feel so uncommon anymore, and it scared him. This was why he needed to take the Syrian mission. Give him some time to figure out if his desire to keep her safe was going to continue to impede his ability to work with her and SNAP.
“We’ve played the part before during a few of our assignments.” He shrugged, hoping it came off noncommittal. “We’ll just pretend this is an assignment. Operation Keep Lyla Single.”
Lyla looked up at him from beneath dark lashes. “Are you sure?”
“His mom used PB and Js as a lure.” He scoffed. “What kind of person does that?”
“A very dedicated moth—”
Crack!
Lyla’s eyes went wide just as her horse reared back. “Was that—”
Crack! Crack!
They both hunched over their horses. Nic whipped his head around, looking for the source of the gunshots when another one rang out. “I thought you said there was no hunting.”
“There’s not.” Another shot rang out, and Sir Winston’s ears pinned back. “Hunting season doesn’t start for another two weeks, but nobody should be shooting near the property.”
Crack!
Bark splintered over Lyla’s shoulder.
“Move!” Nic tugged on Buttercup’s reins, directing his horse so they were now in front of Lyla, his line of sight on the dense Virginia landscape a couple hundred yards away. The perfect spot for a shooter. He looked back. “Into the trees, Lyla!”
“Nicolás, we’ve got riders on the trails.” Her expression darkened as she tightened her hold on the reins, causing her horse to do a little side trot of defiance. “Where are the shots coming from?”
Crack!
Nic’s gaze swung to his ten o’clock, where a forty-foot rock face protruded through the trees. Something glinted in the sun. Scope?
Lyla clicked her tongue, and he turned in time to catch her tap her heels into Sir Winston’s side before bolting in the direction he was looking.
“Lyla!”What is she doing?Nic knew the answer and didn’t like it. He gave a quick kick, and Buttercup raced after them.
Lyla charged ahead, and with the distance growing between them, he was certain she’d been holding back earlier. He followed her as she went right and ducked, narrowly missing a branch. Even though he dropped low, the branch snagged the back of his coat and he heard it rip. He couldn’t tell whether they were on a trail, but from the way Lyla surged forward, she knew it well.
Now would be a great time to unmute her fear, Lord.
“Lyla!” His scream flew back in his face, and he gritted his teeth. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
They exited a canopy of trees into an open field just about fifty yards from the rock outcropping that would give a shooter a clear line of sight—to Lyla. He remembered the shot that hit the tree near her. His blood ran cold.Is someone hunting Lyla?
