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“Good to know. So when we fight, I should let you win at least half the time?”
“Let me win?” she posed delicately, her tone light but her eyebrows drawing to a point over her nose.
“You’ll never know, will you?” He gave her that smug smirk and began dealing out the cards. “Texas Hold ’em. What’s the bet?”
“Bet? We’re playing for funsies.”
He stopped dealing. “I don’t play for fucking funsies. Cards are serious.”
“You just played rummy for fun.”
“No, I played rummy to prove to you I could beat you at it.”
“Is everything a contest to you?”
“I’m a man. Even pissing is a contest.”
The easy bantering continued over several games of Texas Hold ’em—he was definitely better at that game than she was—then they moved on to blackjack. They got tired of playing cards after a while, and with a sigh of resignation she picked up the book on loading her own ammunition and began reading; at least that was some information she might one day be able to use, while she was certain she’d never be able to influence tectonic plates one way or the other. Dare didn’t fuss about her choice, just picked up the other book, moved the lantern so they both had sufficient light, and settled back with his legs stretched out.
The day was slow and lazy. There was chilly gray rain outside, companionship and laughter and an underlying sexual attraction inside. After reading a while she got drowsy, so she stretched out and took a nap, feeling relaxed and safe. When she woke, they each had soup and a protein bar for lunch.
He went down the ladder without explanation and out into the rain, then came back up the ladder carefully holding the bucket, which was three-quarters full of water.
“If you can get your foot in this bucket, it may be too late, but the cold water might help the swelling a little and soreness in your ankle.”
Angie unwrapped her ankle, folded up the hem of her jeans, and eased her foot into the water. She hissed as she lowered her foot into the bucket; the water wasn’t icy, but it was close. Because the bucket narrowed at the bottom she couldn’t just set her foot into it, but by carefully bending her toes she managed to get the water over her ankle. “How did you collect this much water so fast?” The rain had slacked off enough that no way was it coming down hard enough to fill this bucket this much.
“I set the bucket so it caught what’s coming off the roof. I did that thinking about getting water for washing up tonight, but then it occurred to me you could be soaking that ankle. There’ll be time enough to catch more fresh water for later.” While she soaked her ankle, he settled down again with the evidently fascinating subject of plate tectonics.
She propped her chin on her knee, watching the way he furrowed his brow as he read, liking that he sometimes turned the book sideways to look at charts and maps. She wouldn’t have figured him for a reader, but then what had she really known about him? She’d resented him so much, been so angry, that she hadn’t let herself see him as anything other than a thorn in her side.
Oh, she’d known from the beginning—those damn butterflies were a dead giveaway—that on a sexual basis she was deeply affected by him, which was why she’d given him such a wide berth. But she hadn’t known that he could make her laugh. She hadn’t known that just being with him would give her this sense of comfort, of lightness, as if things that had weighed her down were no longer quite as heavy.
Did she love him? She didn’t trust the suddenness of her emotional flip-flop—if it was indeed a flip-flop, considering the presence of the butterflies. Still, she couldn’t make a decision like that based on roughly thirty-six hours of close acquaintance, no matter how momentous those thirty-six hours had been, or that she’d spent about half that time sleeping in his arms. Survival had forged lifelong bonds between them, so she understood exactly what he meant about having friends in the army who would be his friends until the day he died. She felt the same about him, now.
“Why’re you looking at me that way?” he asked absently, proving that no matter how absorbed he seemed to be in something, he was still aware of his surroundings.
“Thinking.”
“Reached any decisions yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I could shave,” he offered.
“Wouldn’t matter.”
“Good, because I’d have to use my knife. I didn’t bring a razor on this trip.”
And there it was again, the smile that wasn’t just on her face, but in her heart.
Chapter Twenty-six
Late that afternoon, the rain slackened to a drizzle, then after a few minutes died completely away. After hearing the sound for so long, the sudden silence was almost as jarring as the storm had been. Dare lifted his head, listening, then said, “I might as well bring the bucket in, because that’s all the water we’ll be collecting.”
Angie breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t let it get to her, but the rain had been oppressive, and she was glad it was over. The temperature might drop now, as it usually did this time of year after a front moved through, but she had ample clothing to stay warm. Unless a surprise snowstorm set in, they would soon be able to travel.
They would have to be very cautious, because the rush of water down the mountain would make for some treacherous going, but the flash floods would rapidly disappear. The creeks and rivers would stay swollen for days, but between the two of them, she and Dare probably knew every place where it would be possible to ford them.
