Page 98 of Peace Under Fire

What the hell was up with her anyway? And why all the internet searching? When he’d asked her what she was looking for, she’d hemmed and hawed, finally saying she just wanted to keep abreast of world news.

World news? What the hell?

And then there was the way she was avoiding him. It was the damnedest thing. She’d spent the past year throwing herself at him, and now, when they’d both openly admitted that they wanted a sexual relationship, she’d backpedaled so hard she’d given him whiplash.

If she was backpedaling. That was the whole damn problem. Yesterday, after worrying that he might have strongarmed her consent without meaning to, he’d asked her if she’d changed her mind. She’d assured him emphatically—almost hysterically—that she had not changed her mind at all. That she just needed to adjust to their new relationship.

Adjust to what? Their relationship hadn’t even changed yet. Before he’d had a chance to dig into what she’d meant, she’d locked herself in her bedroom again with that damn laptop.

He’d think she was playing games, except she seemed so anxious and miserable.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” she suddenly asked, her voice less huffy-puffy.

For a moment, he thought she was talking about the lack of sex, until she continued talking.

“I’m sorry I’m holding us up.” She sighed and swiped at the hair sticking to her red cheek. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I guess that’s lowered my energy level.”

Not sleeping well? That was news to him. He barely swallowed the obvious response about how sex was better than melatonin when it came to getting a good night’s sleep.

“We don’t have to hike to the summit,” he told her instead as he studied her face.

She did look tired. Which could be because of her recent exertion. Had she looked fatigued before they’d left the cabin? He had no clue. He’d been avoiding looking at her directly for fear she’d pick up on his frustration. “I just thought we could use a couple of hours in the sunshine and fresh air.”

Away from laptops and distractions. They needed to talk. He needed to find out why she was avoiding him, and whether he’d steamrolled her into a relationship she didn’t want.

He relaxed beneath the appreciative smile she gave him and led her off the path and into the forest. They found a small clearing with a lazy creek and spread the blanket he’d packed across the sharp, alpine grass. The spot wasn’t that far from their cabin, but it didn’t matter. It was sunny and tranquil, the perfect place for a chat.

It was too early for lunch, so he set the sandwiches, cartons of cake, and bottles of water to the side and stretched out on the blanket, using his backpack for a pillow. When Mandy didn’t join him, he patted the blanket.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “We’re too close to the Refuge and the chance of visitors. We’re just going to relax, have a good lunch, absorb some sunshine.”

The clearing was so quiet, he heard the gust of relief that broke from her before she practically collapsed on the blanket beside him. He gave her a few moments to relax as he stared up at the New Mexico sky. The temperature had been in the high forties when they’d left the cabin. Perfect hiking conditions—not too hot, not too cold. But clouds had slipped across the sun, and without the exertion, even with her coat, she was bound to get cold. He sat up and pulled his own coat off and tucked it around her shoulders.

“I have a coat,” she reminded him, even as she snuggled into his. “You should keep yours.”

Wrapping his arms around his knees, he shrugged. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and he was used to the cold and the exertion. He’d be fine. She was lying on her side, facing him, watching him with big, soft eyes. Anxious eyes.

“Just in case you’ve been wondering,” he said quietly, “I had buckets of blood drawn while I was in the hospital and they ran every test known to man. Including ones for STDs. I’m clean. You don’t need to worry that I’m going to infect you with something.”

He had no idea if that was what was causing the anxiety in her eyes, but they needed to talk about sexual health anyway. He was so attuned to her, he saw the way she froze, and the way her tension quadrupled.

“I’m assuming you’ve had yourself checked recently?” he continued, trying to broach the topic as respectfully as possible.

She squeaked. He couldn’t tell whether that small sound was a yes or a no.

She’d said she’d been on birth control pills, but the pill didn’t prevent STDs. If she’d been on the pill, had she been using condoms too? His gut twisted at the thought of some faceless bastard riding her bareback. He shoved the thought away and buried it deep where it wouldn’t fuck with his breathing and good sense. He didn’t need that image in his head right now—or ever.

It had occurred to him in the late hours of the previous night that maybe she was avoiding him because she had some kind of sexually transmittable disease and didn’t know how to tell him. But they were two rational adults. They could discuss the situation and find a solution.

“Mandy?” He leaned over to rub a soothing palm over her curled shoulder. “Are you clean? There’s no reason for embarrassment—”

She rolled away from him and buried her face in the blanket. “I’m clean, okay? No SDTs over here.”

Did she just say SDT? He puzzled over that before shrugging. She’d been mumbling into the blanket. He’d probably heard wrong.

Okay, if worry over a disease hadn’t sent her into a tailspin, what was the problem? It was time to stop pussyfooting around and get things out in the open.

“Look, it’s obvious something is eating at you.” He glanced around the clearing. Other than a flock of small brown birds flitting through the trees, they were still alone. “Are you certain you’re still interested in hooking up?” His pause seemed to ride the tension between them. “If you’ve changed your mind—”

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