Page 26 of Bursting With Love
“Jack.” She could see him working himself up into a frenzy. As an attorney, she’d seen it with her clients a million times. When they were pulled out of the attitudes they wore like shields, the feelings they’d hidden for so long wreaked havoc with their emotions and sent them into the same frenetic state.
“I’m sorry if—” he began.
“Jack.”
“I don’t mean to—”
“Jack!” she said firmly.
He opened his mouth to speak, and she touched his cheek, forcing him to stop trying to talk and focus on her.
“You’re not going to be a bastard to me because I won’t let you.” Startled at her own vehemence, she wondered why she’d been so weak with Connor when she could be so strong for Jack.
He stared down at her with a serious face. “We’ll talk?”
“I’m counting on it.” And so is my body.
Chapter Twelve
THEY BEGAN THE morning with a three-mile hike along the side of the mountain. Jack had talked for the first mile and a half about the importance of finding the right spot for building a shelter. He described what to look for in adverse weather conditions, showed them how to choose a location that appeared free of animal dens, and taught them the dangers of not being aware of their environments, warning them to look for branches in danger of falling and rotten tree trunks. When he spoke, his eyes were drawn to Savannah. She looked even more gorgeous than she had earlier that morning. Her cheeks were flushed from the steep incline they’d ascended, and her hair had gotten mussed as she ducked under branches. Jack was relieved that the guilt that had gnawed at him hadn’t returned.
Jack led them back down the mountain flanked by Aiden and Pratt. Pratt had on another dark T-shirt and the same black tuque he’d worn since he arrived. Lou walked on Aiden’s other side, while the women chatted behind them. He’d been counting down the hours until Savannah would be in his arms again, and as consuming as that thought was, every time he looked at Pratt he felt a need to get through to him. His brooding eyes reminded Jack so much of his younger brother Sage that he couldn’t leave him to deal with his trouble on his own.
Based on his experience with his own brothers, Jack was pretty sure that there was no way in hell Pratt would talk about whatever was bothering him. He hoped that he might find a roundabout way to eke it out of him. He hated to see such a young man so angry all the time. It was one thing to have lost the woman you loved, but quite a different thing to just be angry at the world. He was mulling over the right approach when Aiden broke the silence.
“When I grow up, I’m gonna be a survivor man, too,” Aiden said.
“You can be anything you want to be if you work hard enough at it,” Lou said.
“No, I can’t,” Aiden said. “I can’t be Superman no matter how hard I try.”
“How do you know unless you try?” Lou winked at Jack.
Pratt made a tsk sound.
That was all Jack needed to know that Lou had hit home with something.
“I guess…” Aiden scrunched his face and thought about the question. “I guess I have to try; then I’ll know.”
“Good plan,” Lou said.
“Pratt, tell me about what you do. Your registration form said artist.” Jack hoped his comment sounded innocent.
Pratt pulled at the edge of his black T-shirt. “I sculpt,” he answered.
Jack had heard his voice so rarely that each time he spoke, the deepness of it took him by surprise.
“What medium do you use?” Lou asked.
Pratt shrugged. “Mostly metals. Bronze, brass, aluminum, iron. I also do some smaller sculpting with clay and some wood carvings.”
Jack noticed the hint of excitement in his voice. “My mother is a sculptor and a painter. I’ve always been fascinated by her ability to create fantastic things out of her imagination. How did you get into it?”
Pratt shrugged again. “Friends, I guess. While I was at college, I studied on the lawn of the art building. That side of the campus had the most shade and the people were, I don’t know…more interesting.”
“Than?” Jack asked. He heard Savannah laugh and glanced behind him. She was holding on to Josie’s hand and they were both doubled over with laughter. Elizabeth had a wide smile on her face, and she waved to Jack. He smiled.
“Than what?” Pratt asked.
“The art students were more interesting than who or what?” Jack asked.
“Oh, than the engineering dudes. They were dolts. Repressed. You know the type. They think they’re smarter than everyone else and all that.” For the first time since they’d arrived, Pratt looked at Jack with a hint of levity in his eyes. “You’re not an engineer, are you?”
