Page 15 of Hunted
The thought of being rescued causes a pang of hope to resonate in my chest. “You really think your dad will send a rescue team by tomorrow?”
He nods, stretching his arms above his head as he gazes around. “Definitely. Maybe even today. This isn’t like when you guys went missing. This time, people know where I am.”
I nod my head in relief. Richard Benson was nothing if not a persistent, demanding man. And he loves his son; he’ll make sure Reece is found quickly.
“Bower?”
“Hmm?” I turn back to Reece, realizing I missed what he said.
“I asked if Darla is okay?”
“What do you mean?” I furrow my eyebrows. “You mean after you yelled at her yesterday?” I try not to let the question come out harshly, but I hated the way he spoke to her. If he was anyone else, I would have given him a black eye.
“Yes, no. I dunno…” He pushes his hands through his hair in agitation, glancing up at the hut where she still lies asleep. “I’m just worried about her. This is a lot for her to take in.”
“Luckily, she doesn’t have to go through any of this alone. We’re all here for her.”
He looks back at me, a look of unease covering his face. “Does that include me?”
“That’s up to you and her,” I say with a shrug.
When King and I first considered sharing her, I never imagined Reece a part of that scenario. I’ve never even seen him with a woman before. There’s been no flirting, no kissing, no dancing, no longing looks. NowI try to imagine the five of us, living together, back in our home in San Francisco. The image is blurry.
I always imagined Reece being there, but it’s hard to even imagine him with a woman, let alone simply speaking to one he liked. I’m not convinced he even knowshowto talk to her.
I glance over at him. His eyes are glued to the hut, like she might emerge at any second and he doesn’t want to miss a moment of her presence.
“Reece, do you even know how to flirt?”
“What?” He looks at me in confusion. “Of course I do.”
“Are you sure? Have you ever done it before?”
“Fuck off, of course I have,” he says, seeming more embarrassed than angry.
“When? With Darla? When you guys were thirteen?” I ask with a smirk. I don’t want to tease the guy, but what twenty-eight-year-old man who looks like he belongs on the front of a woman’s romance book has never flirted before?
He’s silent for a few seconds before he answers in a huff. “It still counts.”
I can’t stop the chuckle that escapes me, and he glares at me in warning. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m just trying to imagine you flirting. You want some tips?”
“Fuck off, I don’t need your help. You’re likely to tell me to use some terrible pickup lines.”
I rub my chin in thought as I smirk at him. “Hmm, like, you must be a parking ticket, because you’ve gotfinewritten all over you?”
He doesn’t react, so I try again. “Okay, how about, if you were a fruit, you’d be afineapple?”
I see the smallest twitch of his lips, so I decide to bring out the big guns. “Okay, what about, do you believe in love at first sight—or should I walk by again? Or, do you have a map? Because I just got lost in your eyes.”
A small smile finally breaks through and his shoulders drop in defeat. He shakes his head as he glares at me, laughter shining through his eyes. “Bower, those are shit. Don’t tell me you actually use those on women?”
“Of course not! I wasn’t gonna give you my best ones.”
He’s quiet for a second before he asks, “What line did you use on Darla?”
“Tink? None. She’s not the kind of woman who responds to a pickup line. She appreciates honesty and kindness. Once you have a real conversation with her, instead of yelling at her, you’ll get it. She’s different.”
“Yeah, I already knew that fifteen years ago,” he huffs.
