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“Okay,” she whispered.
He and Jane moved apart, the charged intimacy of the moment broken.
Jane puttered around the kitchen, cleaning and tidying. Silence stretched between them. Bridger wasn’t sure how to break it. Or if he even should.
Having her stew over his lack of transparency was way better than letting the truth chase her away. While she worked, he took a lap outside, checking the perimeter and the surrounding woods. He’d just gotten back inside when Pegs’ truck rumbled back up the dirt drive.
The screen door slapped shut as she entered with an armload of supplies. “Got some clothes and enough canned ravioli to last a month,” she announced, setting the bags on the counter.
Obviously sensing the lingering tension in the room, she shot him a questioning look. Bridger gave a slight shake of his head, hoping his mentor would understand this was not the time to push for more information.
He hurried past her, heading out to bring in the rest of the supplies. Jane deserved better than to be dragged into the darkness that still haunted him.
And yeah, the thought of pushing Jane away, of losing whatever fragile connection they’d built, made his chest constrict painfully. She was a light in the darkness, a glimmer of hope that he could be more than his past deeds. If he lost her now, would he lose that hope forever?
12
Jane steppedout of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and much more human. The new clothes Pegs brought her were a revelation—cute, stylish yoga wear that was both colorful and feminine. It was a far cry from her usual uniform of flannels, jeans, and work boots.
As she joined Bridger in the living area, she couldn’t help but feel pretty for the first time in ages. She caught the appreciative look he threw her way, making her heart skip a beat.
“Nice outfit,” he commented, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before returning to his task.
“Thanks,” Jane replied, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. “Pegs picked it out.”
“Good choice,” he said, carefully stretching his wounded arm. “I’m going to get cleaned up before the team reaches Rosalind.”
She made her way to the kitchen where the older woman was already busy preparing dinner. “Anything I can do?”
“Can you peel these?” Pegs asked, pointing to a small mountain of spuds on the counter.
Grateful to have something to occupy her while she waited for the team’s search, she grabbed a peeler and got to work. As she focused on the task at hand, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly, replaced by a sense of camaraderie with Pegs, who worked efficiently beside her.
“Relax, Jane,” Pegs said, noting her nervousness. “Whatever your brother found out at that airstrip, Bridger and his team’ll find it, too. I never worked with a better group of operatives.”
Jane tried to smile, but her face felt frozen.
Pegs pointed her knife in Jane’s direction. “You should wear colors more often.”
“Really?” She couldn’t remember the last time someone had complimented her on anything but her spring garden display at the store, or her photographs.
“Absolutely.” Pegs nodded toward her outfit. “Those flannels hide your spark.” The woman smiled, as if to herself. “You know what they say about hiding your light under a bushel…”
The old timey saying made Jane laugh. “That sounded like something Tai would say.” Bridger’s tall, islander teammate had an inexplicable penchant for grandmotherly sayings.
Pegs sliced through an onion with expert skill. “Where do you think I got it?”
Jane tried another grin, but the worried look that flashed quickly across the older woman’s face suggested she’d failed. Again.
“What do you do outside of work?” Pegs asked as she diced up the onion.
“Um,” Jane hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “I love photography.”
The rhythmic chopping continued. “People?”
“Landscapes.”
“I get that. You probably get your fill of people at the store.”
