Page 6 of Edge of Ruin
Kendrick glanced back to make sure I was following and started up a steep incline. The soft mud was extremely slippery. I climbed the hill, half-crawling, grabbing the trunks of little sapling firs for balance. I started sliding downhill and reached for a clump of innocent-looking broad-leafed plants to steady myself, but their tough, leathery stems proved to be covered with thorns, fucking ouch. I was so startled, I lost my footing, and stumbled down onto my knee, knocking it against a jagged rock.
Suddenly, Edna was next to me, whining anxiously and licking my face.
“Need a hand?”
Jack Kendrick was looming over me, though to be fair, it wasn’t really his fault that he loomed. He was standing above me on the hillside, after all, and he was ridiculously tall to begin with. His silvery eyes were narrowed thoughtfully. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked me.
“Not a lot. Just, you know. I stuck myself with some thorns.” I pointed at the plant, and struggled to rise, cradling my stinging hand.
He helped me to my feet, his big, warm hand under my elbow, cupping it.
“Let me take a look.” He turned my hand over, examined it, and began deftly pulling out the tiny pale thorns that were embedded in my palm.
My breath just stopped. My senses were swamped with close-up sensory details. His head bent over mine, drops of rain plopping from the ends of his shaggy, dark hair. Every detail of him was etching itself into my brain. The way the hair grew back from his forehead, the white streak on his temple where the scar disappeared into his hairline. His sensual mouth. Very sensual, when it was relaxed. His lower lip, so cushiony and pink. It looked like it would be hot, soft. Kissable.
I was close enough to smell him. Soap, pine trees, wood smoke, and coffee. I wanted to touch his face, smooth the rain-drenched strands of hair that clung to his forehead.
I recoiled, alarmed at the power of my own crazy impulses. “Let’s go on,” I said abruptly.
“Okay. But I’ll carry this.” He pulled my backpack off my shoulders.
I was irritated at the implication that I couldn’t handle it. I was small, yes, but I was no weakling. “I’m fine!” I tugged it back.
“Don’t be stubborn. You’ve been driving for God knows how long. You’re exhausted, probably hungry, probably dehydrated. I’ll carry it.” He plucked it from my hand with an impatient jerk and slung it over his shoulder, along with my duffel. He started back up the hill, and I scrambled after him, knees wobbling. Edna, swiftly reassured that I was fine again, loped off to join Kendrick again. Little traitor.
“A little farther, and the hard part’s over,” he said over his shoulder.
“I’m not helpless! I was doing fine!” I shouted after him.
He lifted his hand in mute acknowledgement, but his silence made me sound foolish and ineffectual. A dirty trick.
Over the crest of the hill, the forest opened out into a broad sweep of gentle downhill slope. The trees here were taller, with more space between them. Edna pranced around, sniffing at fallen tree trunks. The rain had slackened, and the air was luminous and heavy with fog.
The silent grandeur of the forest worked magic on my jangled nerves as we padded along. Its beauty calmed me. It was magical, the sweet-smelling, pattering rain, the feathery delicacy of pine boughs, the paler green festoons of moss, and tiny star-shaped white flowers that floated ethereally in shiny green clumps of ground cover. It was so shockingly beautiful, I forgot my stinging hand, my mud-slimed shoes, my outraged sensibilities. Even Haupt and Snake Eyes had to retreat before this magnificence.
Twenty minutes later, he led me through a waist-high tangle of blooming wild roses.
Then I saw the house.
Chapter Two
Jack
I watched her as she caught sight of the house, and felt ridiculously gratified at the smile that lit up her face. Yeah, of course she likes it. What wasn’t to like? I’d worked my ass off on that place.
Still, it pleased me that she appreciated the grace of the old- fashioned house under the enormous pines. I was proud of how it turned out. The comfortable porch, the huge flower and herb garden that I had meticulously landscaped. After all that work, she damn well ought to appreciate it. Anyone with a functioning brain would.
That, however, did not mean that I would allow some wandering wild child whose wet-t-shirt-clad body made me break out in a feverish sweat to park her lurid van in my driveway and totally fuck my peace of mind.
I’d worked hard for that peace of mind. I wasn’t giving it up without a fight.
I’d known in my bones that something was up. Something about the tone in Duncan’s voice, that hidden smile. I knew that sneaky bastard better than he knew himself. Duncan had been keeping something back, and there it was, in all its glory. My job was to babysit a doe-eyed, bra-less, sexpot bombshell. I was supposed to keep her out of trouble. Probably trouble she’d whipped up herself.
Served me right, for letting Duncan jerk me around. It was the God’s own truth that I owed Dunc, and would until my dying day, but fuck me.
This, I did not need.
Duncan had said that the girl was in danger. Some muddled, improbable tale about evil Nazis, treasure maps, long-lost art. Christ on a crutch. I’d given up on drama. I wanted peace and quiet. Simplicity. Plants. They didn’t talk, or lie, or fuck each other over, or shoot at each other. I respected that. I craved the silence, the calm. I’d decided to dedicate my life to it.
