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Part of the Green Berets’ creed came to mind:I will strive always to excel in every art and artifice of war. I know that I will be called upon to perform tasks in isolation, far from familiar faces and voices. With the help and guidance of my faith, I will conquer my fears and succeed. I will keep my mind and body clean, alert, and strong.
Cash closed his eyes. Yes. That was exactly what he needed. He might be in isolation with the tempting Brylee, but he would excel. His faith meant everything to him, and he could conquer the fear of hurting her by keeping his mind and body clean, alert, and strong.
He said a prayer for strength and felt much better. He could do this. He could stay strong and help her win her million dollars. Then he could stick with his plan of setting up his gyms and dying alone.
Cold water splashed his face, neck, and chest. His eyes flew open, and he stared down at her, blinking away the moisture.
Brylee grinned, cupped more water, and flung it at him, catching him in his open mouth. He spit it out and she laughed. Her laugh was delightful.
He could stay strong and clean, but he would still dunk her under the spring.
“You’re asking for it,” he growled, rushing at her.
She squealed and tried to scramble backwards. Cash pounced. He grabbed her around the waist and pushed her back under the small waterfall rushing over rocks.
“Cash!” she cried out, giggling as water ran down the back of her head. “You cheeky bloke. I’ll have your head for that, you gormless git.”
He only laughed and squatted on his haunches in the stream. She splashed more water at him, but he grabbed both of her hands and tugged her toward him. She shoved off the closest rocks with her feet and plowed into him. Cash was off balance just enough that they fell together back into the stream. He landed on his back, rocks poking into him, water streaming over and around him, and he had to hold his head up to keep it clear of the water.
He couldn’t have cared less about the uncomfortable position. Brylee Auburn was sprawled on top of him, their clasped hands the only barrier between them.
Grinning down at him, she had never looked more captivating.
“You looked a mite hot, my military hero,” she said, all beautiful sass and fun.
Their mouths were too close together with his head lifted to avoid drowning and he should not be savoring her laying on top of him like this. He prayed for the strength morally and physically that he’d exhibited and honed throughout his military career, and then he sat up.
The muscles in his abdomen and chest flexed with the move. Now she was resting on his lap as they sat together in the cool stream, his hands still surrounding hers.
“How do I look now?” he asked. “Still hot?”
Brylee’s gaze traveled over him. He was wet all over and so was she. He didn’t mind. It was hot enough in this tropical jungle that the water felt great, and her looking at him like that only heated him up more.
“You look … even hotter.” She swallowed and then licked her lips, admitting in a quiet, almost sultry voice, “Hot … enticing … tough … perfect.”
He’d never heard the likes of that voice out of her. He knew it was some famous person’s accent, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It may have been Jessica Rabbit, which should have made him smile thinking of the sultry, ridiculous redhead cartoon, but it felt all Brylee to him and there was nothing ridiculous about this redhead.
Cash felt hot. Very hot, even sitting in the stream. He released her hands and without letting himself think about it too much or giving himself permission, he wrapped his hands around her back and cradled her against his chest. She slid herarms around his back as well, and her very touch made him even more heated.
Resting in that cool water, rocks poking at his rear, staring into her blue gaze, Cash knew he was lost. He’d lost his heart and his will to resist. He was lost to this happy, funny, brave, charitable, and gorgeous redhead.
Redheads. He’d always loved redheads, but Brylee was more than just an enticing redhead. She was his perfect fit. He’d thought Mercedes was extreme and a bit crazy, even though she was a charitable sweetheart. At this moment he’d praise her until his dying day for bringing Brylee into his life, his heart, his arms.
His dying day.
Rubbish, as Brylee would say. He wanted to say something even stronger, thinking about him dying soon and leaving her behind.
Why did he have to be dying?
He’d been ticked when he first got the news, mostly because of the forced retirement from his unit, leaving his men behind, his best friends, giving up on his life’s purpose and not by choice, knowing he was going to get weak and waste away when he’d always fought to be the strongest he could be. The strong warrior who could protect the weak. Now he wouldbecomethe weak.
Death was something he’d faced most days of the week for years. Even before the military and special ops, he’d grown up rough and mostly on the streets. Death, pain, dismemberment, fighting—it was part of life. If he hadn’t come to terms with the fact he could die any moment, he would’ve lost his mind.
Knowing death was coming wasn’t the issue, and he had never been one to question God. Not even in the dark moments after he had lost his mom and the black moment of hearing his own gruesome prognosis.
He’d focused and fought harder … getting his gyms up and running, doing all he could to stay healthy, working to increase his faith and knowledge of spiritual matters, helping any wounded vets and at-risk youth he could. Honestly, he’d been excited at the prospect of seeing his mom, grandpas and grandmas, and two of his buddies who’d been killed in action—Tim and Grayson—again.
But now …
