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They’d only gone a few steps when Cash stopped and arched a brow at her. “My tall tales? My entertainment? I thought you were going to keep me smiling.”
She laughed. “I like you, Captain Cash Trapper,” she said before she could think better of it.
He studied her, and his dark eyes grew very serious. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
Brylee’s eyes widened. What on earth?
His eyes widened as well. “Forgive me. Forget I …” He forced a smile. “Tall tales?”
Brylee scrambled for a folklore story to tell him. Anything to break this awful tension between them and the tight knot in her chest. “Have you heard the classicPaul Bunyon, Babe, and the Blue Ox?”
“No, ma’am.” His voice was very serious. “Not properly, at least.”
“Ah, you are missing out, my friend.”
“Thank you, Brylee,” he whispered, staring at her as if she were a fabulous person. But if that were true, why did he wish she wouldn’t like him? That hurt. Down deep.
Cash turned forward and whacked at anything in their way, pushing through with sheer force, hopping over some obstacles and reaching back to lift her over. A man on a mission. As she told stories and the sun threatened to leave them, Cash hacked a trail through the undergrowth and trees like a superhero. Hewaslike a superhero. Her very own superhero.
But he didn’t want her to like him, so he couldn’t be hers. That stunk.
Chapter
Seven
Cash could not believeBrylee had so sweetly told him she liked him and he’d replied that he wished she wouldn’t.
It wasn’t in her best interest to like him. He had no idea how to explain that to her without revealing the secret that no one but his doctors, a couple of close buddies at the gym, and Mercedes Belle knew.
He loved that Brylee liked him, and he loved that she’d said it so openly. She was carefree and too appealing. It was a cruel joke, really, for his ideal match to show up now.
He liked everything about her. Everything. She had the most fabulous attitude, and she made him laugh and smile like he couldn’t remember doing in his life. Ever. A lot of his buddies in the military and some of the men he worked with now were funny and could make him laugh, but not like her. He could hardly stop smiling around her.
What if he selfishly grew close to her this week, developed a relationship beyond this alternate reality and this challenge? He could have love and light and laughter at his fingertips until he died.
Then he’d leave her behind.
That was vicious and mean and far beneath what he wanted to believe was his hard-earned, internal code of honor. His mom and her church friends had tried to teach him honor and integrity, but the world on the streets wasn’t about integrity. Loyalty. That was big to keep yourself alive, being loyal to those who had your back, but there wasn’t really honor among criminals. He’d learned and fought hard and thankfully his military unit had been focused on loyalty, honor, and integrity. Throughout his military career he’d been distinguished for all three.
But now …
Now he just wanted to listen to Brylee tell him stories, take her shoes and socks off and soak her feet in the stream, and hold her close in that miniscule tent while they talked or kissed the night away.
He sheathed his machete and shoved an entire tree out of the way, breaking it off at its roots. The environmentalists would not be pleased about his tromp through this forest, but a path was necessary for getting around the island the rest of the week.
Resisting Brylee was also necessary. Buthowto resist her?
Currently, she was telling him the story of why the possum’s tail was bare. He squinted through the trees. The sun touched the ocean and his stomach twisted.
The only good news? He could see the ocean again. They were almost at the beach. Hopefully it would provide a smooth path back to camp. Hopefully. He’d love to eat something substantial, soak his feet in the stream with Brylee sitting pressed against his side, her own feet in the stream and that beautiful smile on her face. She’d start playing with his hair, teasing him about something in that British accent, or maybe she’d make her voice sound like Natasha again. That had lit a fire in him.
Brylee would lean in to kiss him…
He had to stop this.
He swung the machete so hard he sliced through vines that weren’t near thick enough and almost took out his own leg. Cursing, he stopped for a moment.
“Are you all right?” Brylee leaned around him, checking that he hadn’t cut himself, but the pressure of her leaning against him, pressed into his back and arm, the sweet scent of her … Delicious. How did she smell sweet, like cinnamon possibly, when he probably reeked like he hadn’t showered in a week? He felt like he hadn’t. They wouldn’t shower for a while now. Could they go float in the ocean and then rinse in the waterfall pool and then fulfill his visions of them sitting side by side next to the stream? Forget food. He’d survived on next to nothing in SERE training.
