Page 10 of Silver Brewer

“Let me look,” I offer, but she shakes her head again, dismissing me. She removes her hands, and I note how one knee of her jeans are torn and blood seeps through the opening. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m clumsy,” she mutters, her voice choked. “I hit a rock.” I search for the offending piece of nature and find the sharp edge of a long stone sticking up from the earth.

“Hang on. I have bandages.” I slip off my pack and search for some cleansing ointment and a large adhesive. “It might sting,” I warn as I rip the ointment package with my teeth and then tug at the opening in her jeans, making the rip larger.

“Darn. These were my favorite.” I bite the inside of my cheek, not wanting to chuckle at her expense, but it’s funny that she’s more worried about her ripped pants than her broken skin. Her liquid-filled eyes tell me her joke hides the pain, and my chest pinches. She doesn’t flinch as I swipe the gel over the cut and then open the bandage. I blow on the damaged skin before working the bandage into her jeans as best as I can. Her voice is soft near my ear as she says, “Thank you.”

Slowly, my eyes lift, and I find her watching me. I swallow. Why is she looking at me like this? And why do I like it so much?

“Let me see your hands.” My command comes out a little too sharply, and her soft expression turns edgy.

“I’m fine.” She brushes her hands on her hips and tries to press off the ground. I don’t miss the wince.

“Here,” I mutter, reaching under her armpits and hoisting us both upward in one awkward movement. Her hands grip my biceps for support, and we stand. I’m hyperaware of her breasts brushing against my abs with our height difference. Her hands come to rest on my chest, and she gently presses off me.

“I’m fine,” she repeats softer, but I’m quick, and I circle her wrists, twisting them to expose her palms. Both are nicked and punctured from the gravel on the ground. I turn them back over and force her open hands to rub down my shirt. It isn’t the cleanest move, but she needs the bits and pieces scraped away.

“Does it feel like anything lingers? A sliver of something?”

“A sliver…of something.” Her voice is hardly more than a whisper. Her eyes remain on my chest while I remove her hands and blow over the broken skin like I did her cut knee. “That…that tingles.”

My gaze leap to hers, and suddenly, I tingle as well. In my heart. In my gut. And in my dick.

Dammit. I release her wrists and reach for her backpack, attempting to remove it from her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she snaps.

“I can carry it for a while.”

Her head begins to shake. “Oh no. No, you aren’t going to make me feel like I can’t pull my weight and lose out on this place. I’ll manage.”

The mention of the land may as well be a slap in the face. Of course, she isn’t turned on by me like I’m suddenly worked up over her. She just wants my land.

“I was trying to be a gentleman,” I bite back, taking a step away from her.

“Well, just…don’t gentleman me.”

Yes, right. Why am I being nice to her? I should have left her on her knees, hands digging into the gravel and leg bleeding, but it goes against my nature to leave a wounded animal unattended. On second thought, I hope she rots from gangrene in her leg. I hope it festers and falls off. Then I reconsider the wish as I’ve known my share of men who had such a thing happen to them. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Fine,” I bark, releasing her backpack strap and leaning over for my bag.

“Fine.”

5

This isn’t glamping

[Letty]

My eyes fill again with traitorous liquid, but I rapidly blink back the sting. I should have let him take my backpack. It’s heavy, and I curse myself for overpacking. My knee really does ache, and my other knee throbs from the tender bruise hidden under my jeans. My hands burn. And I’m thirsty. I reach for my water bottle and take a hardy drink of lukewarm liquid. I don’t want to waste precious water, but I pour a little over my cracked hands. The initial drops force me to hiss, but I allow the liquid to cleanse the cuts. Looking up, I find Giant has continued moving, so I follow for the remainder of our climb.

The slope is steeper than it appears from the base, and he’s right, dammit. My feet are killing me. My toes feel cramped, and my heel rubs uncomfortably. I’m going to have blisters, and I want to curse Giant. It’s all his fault, I swear, but the blame is really mine. If I wasn’t so determined to prove myself to him, I wouldn’t be in this position.

You also wouldn’t be getting this land, I remind myself. I need this promotion and the financial security it will bring; not to mention, the agency is depending on me. Anything. Thoughts of my future drive me forward but at a much slower pace than I’d originally set. Giant’s strides are naturally longer than mine as his legs are three times bigger.

Okay, maybe not three times, but I swear he’s hardly broken a sweat when all I want is a shower.

Tenting, whispers through my head.