Page 21 of What I Should Have Done

“You needed to fix it to meet regulations after the shower,” I mindlessly muttered, giving her a passing excuse if someone higher ranked were to show up and see her with it out of the bun. My head swam, dizzy from the whiplash and strange sensations that definitely were not happening.

Her eyes met mine and I was once again counting the black speckles. Twenty-seven so far. My heart raced as fast as a hundred horses running wild. Everything twisted hot in my core; my skin ran warm—and not from the heat of the desert.

She remained silent; neither of us moved. Her gaze darkened, and the sand shifted beneath us, screaming at me to cross the small gap between us. I just had to get closer to her, I needed to be closer.

“You had no right to get upset with me earlier,” she finally muttered, the conviction of her frustration only halfway as intense as it had been initially.

My mind still refused to think, to process anything.

Still spaced out, I mumbled, “Uh huh.” It sounded even dumber than it felt leaving my tongue.

“I’m a phenomenal shot. I didn’t graduate top of my class because I am pretty.” She scooted closer toward me.

Swallowing stiffly, my mind roaring hot with nothing but thoughts of her skin beneath my palms, I nodded. “I figured.”

“Ah, so you think I’m pretty.” She leaned forward, crawling toward me. Like a spell had settled over my body, all control fled my limbs.

A war erupted in my head. One side reminded me that she was a woman who was not to be trusted. That no matter what happened, in the end I’d be left scorned again, just how Rachel left me. Another side battled to win, knowing that she was merely toying with me. Scottie was a teammate. That was it.

“I’ve met some real ugly fuckers who were snipers before. How pretty you are or not doesn’t determine how good of a shot you are,” I managed to answer. And the last side jumped to the front of the explosion. It reminded me that she’d stepped in during a fight that I could handle myself. She had nothing but her training and a single mission under her belt—a mission that went sideways.

I sat back, putting distance between us, and she immediately paused.

“I had it covered. Stick to your job, your orders, and next time you may not even have to pull the trigger,” I stated flatly, rolling the cigarette between my teeth. It had long since gone out, but the sensation of the tobacco coating my tongue was helpful in grounding me all the same.

The softness fled from her face, tightening at my words. She jerked back, sitting hard on the ground halfway between me and her bedroll. “I’m not afraid of firing my weapon. Is it not my job to be your cover? To watch over you guys?”

“It’s your job to fucking listen to Dom and his orders.”

“You’re never going to trust me, are you?”

“You’re only here because the brass wants to make some political statement.”

“Your shit with me is because I’m a fucking woman isn’t it?”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

She crossed her arms defiantly. “Because when you stormed out of the tent the moment we met, I was told by the team you have trust issues.”

Shaking my head, I glanced over at the entrance. “Well, when you walk in on your fiancée on all fours with some dude’s dick in her ass, I think you’d have trust issues too.” Her eyes widened, the frustration ebbing away as my mistake hit me in the mouth. “But that’s not what the issue is. So, forget I ever said that,” I snarled, standing up.

“She wrote you that letter,” Scottie gasped, rising from the ground too, and took a hesitant step toward me.

“I told you it’s none of your business,” I grumbled, but somehow couldn’t find the strength to move.

She nodded, the tension slowly fading from her forearms, and they dropped to her side. I wasn’t quite sure what to think as my gaze narrowed and I studied her face. Even her jawline was as sharp as her cheekbones, her eyes piercing like a crow and her nose much like a bird. It fit her. Unique and strong.

“So, squats? They’re a lift that doesn’t require arms like bench does?” she offered gently, as my heart rate slowed.

Furrowing my brows, I dipped my chin as she took another hesitant step toward me. “Squats?” I questioned.

A competitive fire blazed in her eyes. Man, if there was a way to turn her irises into a stone, I would’ve spent every penny I had to own just one. “You know, so when I win you’ll tell me how you got your call sign.” She wiggled her brows.

A smile danced at the edge of my lips, threatening to burst through the cloud of tension that finally slipped away. “Scottie, I’ve got a solid seventy pounds on you at least, I think that’s rather unfair. How about arm wrestling? Best out of three,” I offered, matching the shift in the conversation.

She scoffed, her eyes sparkling. “Blondie, I may be a better shot than you, but you’d snap my arm in half.”

“Thumb war? I’m pretty good at that,” I offered, and her brows pulled together.

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