Page 89 of The Wrecked One

“Since when are you sorry for being pushy?” He raised his hands between us in a defensive display, but his tone had a playfulness to it when he said, “I mean that in a good way.”

“Mmmhmm.” For a minute, I actually forgot why we were there in that bed, and I deserted thoughts of the horrible dream.

It was just the two of us, staring at one another inside the honeymoon suite of an old B&B alongside a gorgeous lake in Canada.

I wanted to keep us on the forgetting train for as long as possible, but then he crashed through my false reality. “You going to be okay flying today after what happened yesterday?”

“As long as the flight doesn’t involve leaping from said plane with parachutes, I’ll be okay.”

Scratching his jaw as if irritated by the beard, he shook his head. “Not on the agenda today, miss.”

The light tone and “miss” had my heart soaring back to la-la land again, where everything was good.

“We’re going to use a different airport than originally planned, though. Carter texted an hour ago. He’s concerned the Sorens will anticipate us flying from Banff, and they may try and intercept us before we can get to the airport. A team could have already been dispatched.” Talk about bursting that la-la-land bubble and fast.

It was never fun when my chills produced their very own chills. Rapidly rubbing my arms to chase them away didn’t help. Without missing a beat, Oliver gently went for the arm closest to him and began massaging at my tension there.

I wanted to fully face him to give him better access to my other arm as well, but I’d have to flip over or climb onto his lap. And with no panties on, we’d be back in last-night-territory again.

Not in the mood to get rejected if I were to ask him for morning sex, I stayed in place. An orgasm should’ve been the last thing on my mind anyway, considering he’d just informed me a hit team might be trying to rain on our fucked-up parade to The Sapphire.

“Would you like to hear the plan to get us safely from Canada to The Sapphire without encountering any assholes?” His teasing tone despite the gravity of his words somehow did as much to soothe my nerves as his massage.

“As long as it doesn’t involve jumping from anything, or into anything, I’ll place my faith in you to make it happen.”

“No jumping, you have my word. We’ll need to complete a triathlon of sorts—by boat, then car, and finally heading off the beaten path—but my dad and Malcolm will have our six in the process.”

That was good enough for me. No skydiving or swimming with gators? Count me in. I mean, I had no clue if there even were alligators in Canada, but been there and done that to both.

“So. Um.” Stellar word choice for an award-winning journalist. My vocabulary was off-the-charts lately. “Since you slept like shit, does that mean you also had nightmares?”

He stopped the massage. “I’d rather it have been me having one than you, but no.”

Lowering his legs to the side, he stood and combed his messy hair with his fingers. “I’m going to trim down this beard and cut my hair since The Collective is looking for Tarzan.”

I chuckled, shocked I was still capable of that with the weight of the world dragging us both down.

“Mya . . . your dimple.” He pulverized any of my lingering thoughts, returning my light, dimple-inducing laugh with a cute lopsided smile.

See. Right there. You can’t help yourself. You’ll come back to me. Maybe he’s already even here, and he just doesn’t know it yet.

Thirty minutes later—okay, more like forty-five minutes—I made my way downstairs in search of Oliver.

Was it ridiculous I’d not only taken the time to blow out my hair, but put on makeup—courtesy of Vanessa—acting as though I had a date?

Nope, not at all. I am who I am. Screw The Collective. Even those small steps forward in stopping the Sorens and their evil gang from being able to steal any more pieces from me felt good. Time to take them all back so I could be whole again.

All thoughts of those monsters went right out the double-story window the moment I laid eyes on Oliver, though.

He was on the couch, hunched forward while studying a paper map. I went still in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head, sensing my presence, and wow.

Like me, he was in his clothes from yesterday. Jeans and a tee. But he’d cut his hair, tapering it at the sides while keeping it slightly longer and tamed by some gel on top. He’d also cleaned up his beard and mustache, trimming it shorter, along with the sideburns. The man was ruggedly handsome with his longer hair and a thick beard, but the guy before me now was my guy. The one I’d lost back in that room in Bangkok.

He set down the map on the coffee table and stood, quietly studying me.

“Hi.” I leaned into the doorframe, wondering if my heart rate would slow enough so I could string together a sentence.

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