Page 7 of Silver Brewer

Anything whispers through my mind along with the song “Colors of the Wind.”

My eyes narrow. My heart thuds to a screeching halt.

This is crazy.

But I slowly rise, pressing up on my thigh as I stand. I come to my full height, which doesn’t quite match his, but with the help of the two step difference, I’m close. My gaze meets his fiery eyes. There’s one thing this man needs to learn about me. I like nothing more than to prove others wrong.

“Challenge accepted.”

4

To camp or not to camp.

[Giant]

“Reporting for camping, sir.”

She salutes me, and I’m reminded of how not one of my soldier friends looked like her. She looks as if an L.L. Bean magazine spit her off their pages, but judging by the newness of the clothing, I’d say she didn’t happen to have these things on hand.

“Are those new?” I nod to the Timberland lookalikes on her feet that don’t boast a scratch, dent, or smudge. Her jeans hug her body, and the flannel shirt open a few extra buttons exposes a tank top underneath, hinting at the swell of her breasts. Her chestnut colored hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and each time I see her, she looks different. Fresher. Younger. She can’t be more than forty.

She peers down at her footwear and twists her ankle. “Do you like them? I got them at Duncan’s.” Duncan’s Hardware is the local shop for everything as the closest Walmart is a good half hour away.

“Those are gonna hurt, Cricket,” I warn her. “You can’t wear new boots for a lengthy hike. You’ll have blisters for days.”

“I’m tough,” she tells me, holding herself upright and facing off with me as best as she can despite our height difference. She props her hands on her hips, and it’s almost comical how her expression turns hard. Her face doesn’t allow her to be stern. It’s the curve of her lips, her pert nose, and those bright blue eyes. “Besides, it’s Letty.”

I stare at her in confusion.

“My name. Olivet,” she emphasizes. “Considering we’re going to spend a few days together, you can call me Letty, my nickname.”

I stare more.

“People typically wonder, how do you get Letty from Olivet? I should be Livvy, or Vette, or even Olive, but I’m not really an Olive and—”

“I’ll just keep to Cricket,” I interrupt her rambling.

Her lips twist, but she doesn’t say anything more. However, she has more to say. I already know this about her—she’ll have more to say.

“Spit it out,” I snark, trying not to let my eyes roam to the hint of cleavage popping out of the tank top under her open flannel.

“Well, I…” She wraps her hand around her ponytail and smooths down the length. An image of my hand curling the tail to wrap around my fist and yank her head back to take her yammering mouth fills my vision. I’m blinded by the thought. She clears her throat, and I return to the quandary.

“And…?” I prompt.

“I just wondered if your wife is okay with this. Maybe she should come with us or…?”

My arms cross, and my glare stops her chirping.

“Are you worried about your safety?”

Her brows pinch for a second, but without much thought, she responds. “No. I trust you.” Her words surprise us both. Her forehead furrows, and my eyes widen. “I know I don’t know you, but I’m not afraid of you.”

I want to warn her to be afraid, be very afraid, but then again, I don’t want to frighten her away. We haven’t even started this adventure, and strangely, I’ve been looking forward to the possibility over the past twenty-four hours. I wasn’t even certain she’d show.

“Does someone know where you’ll be?” I ask. Does she have a husband? A boyfriend? Someone who will worry about her.

“Marcus knows.”