Page 74 of Walking the Edge

“I’m not accepting your money.” Mitch reached across the console to stroke a thumb over her knuckles.

She jerked her hand away. “Don’t.”

No way were they going back to her no-touching scenario, but okay. She didn’t want his sympathy. Or his comfort. But she had last night.

She chewed another bite of her fried fish. “You had a condom in your wallet last night.”

He stared at her. She wanted to talk about birth control after the deed? “What of it?”

“How old was it?”

“Brand new. Nothing leaked.” Were they really having this discussion? “You don’t need to do a pregnancy test, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Were you angling to get me into bed?” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. That sounds paranoid.”

“It is paranoid.” Mitch put his hamburger down, his appetite gone. “All it means is I like to be prepared. I was a scout. A Ranger. You saw all that survival gear in the toolbox when I checked at the impound lot.”

“You forgot to mention the space blanket and the first aid kit.” She paused, then jabbed the air with a finger. “Let’s not forget the energy bars or the bottles of water.”

“That’s all part of survival gear. I prepare for anything that can happen. Increases the chance of a happy ending. Same with carrying a rubber.”

She looked dubious but chewed another bite. “I guess that’s a responsible position.”

“I try to be an adult most of the time.” He leaned his back against the door and grabbed some french fries. His body instantly absorbed the fat and the salt. He’d needed this hours ago.

“Just because we had sex last night, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means we wanted to celebrate escaping with our lives.” He draped his wrist over the top of the wheel. “We survived.”

“Considering all your medals, I guess you know a lot about surviving.”

Little did she or Aunt Edi know the full background on his medals. They never would either. He sipped his soda. “What else would our having sex together mean?”

“That we want to do it again.”

“I do.” If she asked again, he would deliver. No hesitation.

“That’s not happening.” She sat all of two and a half feet away, but she might as well have been on the other side of a football field for all the warmth coming from her. Apparently, she couldn’t bear to look at him, staring out the side window instead.

“Okay.” He crossed his arms. If she wanted a one-off, fine. Last night had been a spectacular one-off. He clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut. In her current mood, she wouldn’t even give a picayune how he felt.

A pucker pulled Cath’s delicate reddish eyebrows into a frown.

Mitch held up his hands. “No need to say anything else.” Please don’t.

The window rattled behind him.

Shit. Mitch pushed Cath’s head down and started the truck. His other hand found his gun.

More tapping. Garbled yelling.

The blur to his left came into focus. Mitch dropped the window. “Do you realize how close I am to blowing off your head?”

“Be glad you didn’t.” Jack shoved hair off his face. “What are you doing out here?”

“We were having a private conversation.” Mitch crumpled his sandwich wrappings. “Until you interrupted.”

He removed his key from the ignition. Cath sat up, her face drained of all blood. He wanted to squeeze her hand, but she stared past him to his brother. “It’s okay. We’ve finished talking.”

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