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Mack looks uncomfortable. He’s clearly the kind of person who doesn’t enjoy conflict between people who are supposed to be on the same side. I’ve always been exactly the same way, so I instinctively recognize the expression on his face.
Jackson, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to mind it at all. “More numbers are better, but only if they’re good fighters. If you can’t hold your own, better not to come.”
“I can hold my own.” I can’t believe I’m having to defend myself in this. I can’t believe Grant is letting this happen. “He trained me for years. I’m not some sort of helpless child.”
To my relief, Jackson doesn’t appear to question this statement. “In that case, there’s no reason not to add an—”
“She’s not coming,” Grant grits out.
I’m so angry I’m practically shaking with it. “That’s not your decision to make. I’m strong, and I know how to—”
I break off my declaration because an arm suddenly grabs me from behind. It’s completely out of the blue in a space I considered safe, and I’m so terrified by the attack that I react by instinct.
I do exactly what Grant taught me in this situation. I step backward into whoever is behind me and use the leverage and all my upper-body strength to flip the person right over my head so that he lands with a thud on the hay and soft dirt in front of me.
There’s a ripple of reaction through the gathered crowd, and I stare down in astonishment.
It’s Cal. Cal. Large and muscular and unfriendly and intimidating. And I just flipped him without even thinking.
I’ve practiced that move so many times with Grant, but I still can’t believe I actually did it.
“She’s comin’,” Cal announces from the ground, reaching out for the hand Rachel offers to help him back to his feet. “No more argument.”
“That was masterclass,” Mack says, grinning at me and clearly relieved that the conflict is over. “So you’re with me and Gail?”
“Yes. That sounds good.” I’m not actually sure what Mack’s role is supposed to be since I’d zoned out on some of the details, but I’m happy to do whatever if it means being with him.
I always assumed I’d be with Grant, but I don’t want to even look at him at the moment.
He’s glaring at me coldly. I can feel it. But I don’t meet his eyes, and he doesn’t say anything else.
He’s not happy, but neither am I.
And right now I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks.
We stay another hour, working out the final details. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.
I half expect Grant to catch up with me afterward to try to convince me not to come. I’m ready for the argument, but he disappears.
Instead, I fall into step with Mack as we walk back toward the main house.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, clearly reading my mind.
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. But he’ll get over it.”
“I don’t even know what his problem is. I mean, what the hell? He thought I’d just sit this one out? Those are my people in the bunker.”
“Sure, they are. But you’re his people, and he’s terrified of you getting hurt.” Mack shakes his head. “It’s not fair to you, and it’s stupid. But guys’ll do a lot of stupid things when it comes to the people they love.”
I start to argue with the word love but then decide against it. It’s too hard to explain my convoluted relationship with Grant, and I don’t know Mack that well anyway. Instead, I intentionally shift the subject by saying lightly, “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I always know what I’m talking about.” He’s usually good about making eye contact, but he doesn’t right now. “You’ll learn that pretty quick about me.”
His slight diffidence makes me curious. “Do you have someone?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, and I start to think he’s not going to at all. Then he finally meets my gaze. “Sure, I’ve got a woman. She just hasn’t realized it yet.”
