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He gave her half a smile. “I’m playing cautious.”
“Why?”
“Probably the same reason you are.” More sure now, he took a step forward.
She didn’t move, but he sensed the sudden tension in her body, could feel the way her eyes tracked his movement.
He was out of practice. He should have noticed this when they’d played at fighting last night.
Only now he sensed she wasn’t playing at all.
“You look tense,” he said easily. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“If you’re playing cautious, then you’ll want to stop walking.”
Well, that statement was full of threat, and definitely dictated how this conversation was going to go.
He hesitated for a second, weighing his options. The post-storm humidity spoke of danger, but he needed to take control of this interaction before she did. He kept moving, knowing that however she’d react, she was going to be fast. She wouldn’t waste energy on a strength move, not against him.
She moved half a second before he expected it—and not in the way he expected at all.
She didn’t fight, she ran.
He took off after her.
She was fast, launching herself through the underbrush in the woods, heading toward the creek, barely making a sound as her feet sprang through dead leaves. She ducked and bolted through narrow passages, until even Casper had a hard time staying on her trail.
And then she vanished.
Hunter drew up short, his lungs pulling for breath. His shoulder ached again, protesting all this motion.
About a hundred feet off, something skittered through a bush.
Casper took off after it. Hunter stared. How had she gotten so far away, so—
Wham. Kate landed on him from above. It was a lot of weight all at once, and he hit the ground. Kate was on his back.
With a knife at his throat.
She had a fistful of his hair, and the blade was tight under his chin, so sharp that he could swear he was bleeding already.
“Boys are such idiots,” she said.
But he wasn’t listening. His hand was already hooking her wrist from the inside, using his strength to jerk her forward.
And while she was off balance, he rolled her into the dirty leaves. He straddled her waist and pinned her arms—one with his knee, one with a hand—and put the knife against her throat.
“Now who’s the idiot?”
Her eyes lit with indignant fury.
“Don’t glare at me,” he said. “You’re the one who left my hands free.” He could still feel wetness at his neck. “That was a good trick, though. You have any more weapons hidden out here?”
Kate didn’t speak, and he eased the knife away from her neck, just an inch. “I didn’t come out here expecting a fight,” he said.
“What were you expecting? Another chance to feel me up?”
That hurt more than it should have, but she didn’t have to know that. “Why? Is that offer on the table?”
