Page 17 of Those Who Are Bound

He asked, “What other states have you lived in?”

“Oy.” She laughed and took a sip from her coffee. “Let’s see, other than KC, Georgia, and DC, we’ve been in Michigan, Florida, California, and Texas.”

“Which branch?”

“Dad was in the Army. Gage was a marine.”

“You were wearing an Air Force hat yesterday.”

Elliott nodded in approval. “Observant, Mr. Montgomery. One of Gage’s friends was Air Force, and he was in Biloxi. He’d sent me the hat, a gift for his buddy’s kid sister.” Taking the top off her cup, she drained the coffee. “Okay, I’m going back for seconds. Try not to hit a pothole.” She was being careful not to spill the coffee. If pressed, she wasn’t sure if it was to protect his vehicle or not to spill what she equated to liquid gold.

“I’m glad I didn’t buy you just one cup.”

“Me, too. Thank you, by the way.”

“You did warn me.”

Elliott grinned at him over her shoulder from her bent-over position as she capped the box of coffee between her feet. His jaw tensed and he shifted in his seat. She ducked her head again; raised around testosterone-pumped men, she knew what that subtle shifting indicated. Heat coursed through her knowing she could get such a strong reaction so easily.

Sitting back up, sipping at the newly poured coffee, she let out a low moan of appreciation. That earned her a double-take, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow.Oops.She hid her smile behind the cup.

Reining in her schoolgirl giddiness, she picked up their conversation. “Your turn: college major, color, ice cream, and music.”

“Environmental studies, green—that’s probably an influence from school, being a Duck—chocolate mint, and I’m with you on that; anything other than country.”

Elliott looked at him like he was crazy. “You’re a duck? Aren’t ducks yellow?”

He grinned. “Technically. What were you?”

She teased, “And give away my fancy education? Hmm. I’ll leave it at: we ate ducks.”

He made a strangled sound. She saw him look upward behind his sunglasses, as though asking for divine assistance—not that she believed in such things—but it was cute to watch and flattering that he was taking pleasure in her teasing.

“Did I scare you?” she asked wickedly, referring to the duck-eating comment.

He looked intrigued rather than frightened. “I don’t scare easily, Miss Rork.”

“One tough duck.” She chuckled.

“Yes, ma’am,” he assured her.

Elliott drank two and a half cups of coffee in the time it took to drive to Weston Bend State Park. The rest of the ride up was mostly companionable silence or tales of his adventures in Oregon: skiing, kayaking, zip lining, and hiking. Elliott suspected it was because Jonah was sensitive to her parents’ and Gage’s deaths, and he didn’t want her to have to go into it; she appreciated him for that. Most people wanted to dwell on the macabre; he gave her a break from it.

Jonah parked at the entrance of the park near a hut that turned out to be bathrooms. Elliott immediately headed off in that direction while Jonah went to the back of the Jeep. When she returned, he had already donned a small backpack.

“Do I need to take mine?” Elliott asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve got you covered. Really, this isn’t going to be much of anything; you’re already in shape.”

“I’m in shape for boxing,” she pointed out. “Hiking is a different discipline.”

He gave her a challenging look. “Are you saying this might be too much?”

Her competitive hackles rose, and she goaded good-naturedly, “No. Shall we jog it?”

He chuckled. “I’m guessing you get yourself into trouble a lot.”

“Nothing I can’t get myself out of.” The answer itself was a challenge.

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