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Her mind scrambled with reasons—all of her shortcomings, the red hair, the simple fact that she wasn’t a woman like Mercedes Belle who men like Cash probably dated every weekend.
She should be mad, but she wasn’t. Sad, dejected, without hope and a future. Yep, she was all those things. She was too depressed and rejected to be angry.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Averting her gaze, she pushed around him and out of the pool. The rocks on the bottom of the pool jabbed into her feet. He’d carried her in, protecting her like he had all afternoon and evening. Sadly, ‘they’ would never work.
She slid into her flip-flops, cold water streaming from her wet shirt, pants, and hair. Walking slowly down the side of the stream, she heard his footsteps behind her. She made it to camp, found a towel and dry clothes, stepped out of the lights and camera angles to change, found a hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste, and got ready for bed. Cash said nothing; he was just … there, making certain she was safe, but that was all he could do for her.
She climbed into the small tent, all set up with two thick pads, sleeping bags, and pillows. It would be a tight fit, especially with how big Cash was. Twenty minutes ago, when they were kissing, she would’ve been thrilled with the sleeping situation.
Now … it would be awkward.
She crawled to the far side, kneeled on the cot, and prayed. She started with gratitude—their safety today, the opportunity to win the money for her charity, her family and friends, her faith, the Savior, food, water, a bath in the waterfall pool, dry clothes, and then she got to Cash.
The tears started then. She prayed in gratitude for his strength, kindness, and protection. She begged the Lord to please help her not make it awkward and not make him uncomfortable and not beg him to give them a chance. She asked for protection and light and love for her family and friends, and protection and the ability to find the money for her and Cash.
As she said amen and lay down, tears trailed down her face, but she also felt a sense of peace. There was a strong reason Cash felt they couldn’t be together. She’d seen it in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, far from it, but they had no future.
She needed to focus on winning the money and not making things uncomfortable between them. It was the mature thing to do, but it also felt like the right thing to do.
Yet the thought of never furthering a relationship with Cash, of never kissing him again ...
Putting her fingers to her lips, Brylee lost the small measure of peace and understanding she’d found.
Chapter
Nine
Cash shutoff the lights in camp and gave Brylee time to settle into the tent and fall asleep. He hoped. He followed the stream down to the nearby beach and listened to the softly lapping waves. He was miserable. And he could still taste cinnamon on his lips.
If only he’d never let himself kiss Brylee. Now he knew exactly how incredible it was.
And even worse, he could never indulge in such paradise again.
Not unless he wanted to hurt her worse than he already had. The way she’d looked when she quoted Natasha made him want to smile, but hewasa moron. Worse. He was an out-of-control jerk who had kissed the most perfect woman in the world and then hurt her. With no explanation.
Cash went back up to camp, changed out of his wet clothes, hung up his clothes, and downed a water bottle. He kneeled in the dirt and said a prayer for Brylee to forgive him and not think it had anything to do with her, and that maybe he could somehow explain. He didn’t know about that one. Brylee was so positive and delightful she’d probably assume his impendingdeath wasn’t a wall between them, or maybe that some miracle would happen and he’d survive. He groaned in frustration.
About ten-thirty, he decided he should climb into the tent and try to sleep. He slowly unzipped the tent. Brylee was curled in the sleeping bag, facing away from him. He paused and thankfully she didn’t stir. He stared at her for a few beats, longing to lie down close by and drape his arm over her.
Startled by his own wayward thoughts, he carefully slid his pillow, sleeping bag, and mat outside the tent. He zipped it up, found some mosquito repellant and sprayed his face and arms, and then settled into his bag.
The waterfall was a soothing sound to fall to sleep to. If only he felt soothed or calm inside.
One day—no, half a day—in Brylee’s captivating presence and he’d fallen for her, kissed her, hurt her feelings, and made a huge mess of everything.
Cash squeezed his eyes shut and prayed again.
Movement woke Cash. He sat up, surprised that he’d slept, as stirred up as he was with Brylee and the mess he’d made by kissing her. The sleeping accommodations weren’t bad, and he hadn’t been eaten alive by bugs or bitten by a snake or stung by a scorpion in the night. The sky was lightening to the east, and the movement he’d heard was coming from inside the tent.
He slid out of his bag and shook the dew off of it, then stood, staring at the tent opening. Would Brylee be angry, sad, quiet, snippy, standoffish, cold … He deserved whatever she gave him this morning. He had no answers about how to proceed with her and keep her safe from falling for him.
The tent slid open, and she popped out and slid into her flip-flops. Then she smiled at him. Smiled.
He could only stare at her in shock. The smile was warm and kind and yes, there was sadness in her sapphire jewel eyes, but she didn’t appear ready to scream at him or give him the silent treatment. What on earth?
“Good morning,” she said sweetly. “Ready to find me a million dollars?”
