Page 63 of Finding Fate

"Five," he counters and leans up, putting all his weight on top of my pelvis. His inked arms cross his broad chest. My eyes lower, tracking each flex, admiring the way his black T-shirt moves with each breath he takes.

"Two." Why in the hell do I want to smile?

“Four.”

“Three.”

"Fine, and it starts tomorrow. All this awkward shit needs to be out of the way before the countdown begins."

I focus on a large bird circling above us as I contemplate his request. Three days won't do too much damage, right? It would be nice to be close to someone I trust.

"Three days and you'll let me go?"

He glances up to the same bird I'm studying, then back down with a smile. "Four nights, three days. And yeah, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go as long as it's not back to Africa. I've had enough of that place for one lifetime. Too damn muggy."

I answer his smile with one of my own. "Deal. But let's not talk about any of it, okay. I don't want to...." A shudder shakes my shoulders and spine, and his brows furrow. Instead of questioning it, he simply extends a hand to me.

I clasp his hand and shake.

"I needed a quick run, so thanks, I guess,” he mutters as he pushes up and pulls me with him. I attempt to drop the hand wrapped around my own, but his grip only tightens. Fine. One-handed, I knock off the dust and grass clinging to the black material of my covering until his hand bats mine away.

"Hey, stop it," I say with a pointed glare.

"You naked under there?" he asks, eyeing me.

"No, I'm not naked under here. Sorry to disappoint—"

In one quick motion, he squats at my feet and pops right back up with the hem of the material in his hands. My traitorous arms stretch upward, allowing it to slide off easily.

Cool air breezes against my exposed skin, reviving something deep within my soul. Freedom. This relief, this clarity, is freedom.

Shutting my eyes, I focus on each spot where the wind brushes my bare skin, the way it cuts through the light cloth of the T-shirt and shorts given to me at the base. A piece of me—the real me, not the scared and running me—snaps into place. When my eyes finally flutter open, I find him gorgeously grinning ear to ear.

"Much better. Come on, you have someone waiting for you back at the house."

I plant my feet on the grass, not budging as he attempts to pull me forward. "Who... who knows I'm here?"

With a narrowed stare, he says, "I'm guessing Mac, the guys on my team, and whoever else at the FBI or CIA who monitored the system for your prints like we did."

"You were monitoring... why?"

He steps closer. With a raised hand, he makes to cradle my cheek. Involuntarily I take a cautious step back, his awaiting palm dropping to his side as disappointment flashes across his features. "I told you. I've been trying to find you. When they told me you were gone... once I recovered, I did what I could do from here to look for you. Don't be scared to go back. If it’s too many people, I’ll kick all their asses out. Plus, I have enough firepower hidden in that house to keep out... well, an African army." His smile fades when I don't return it. "Too soon?"

"Too soon. Too... real."

"Gotcha. I'll make a mental note of that one, or maybe save the Africa captive jokes for a later date."

"We only have three days," I remind him as I trail behind him toward the house.

"Four nights and three days, Pops. Who knows, maybe after some time back with me and my amazing humor, you'll find it funny by the end of day three."

He's probably right, but there’s no way I’ll admit it. I need to stay strong these next few days, not let my guard down for him and his sexy tattoos, gorgeous smile and soulful eyes to break me down. Nope. Not going to let him win me over again.

Losing him once nearly killed me; I wouldn't survive losing him again, even if this time I’m the one walking away.

Three days. I can do this for three days.

Damn, I hate lying to myself.

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