Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(69)

He wanted to know more, but he rolled up to the parking area next to the mud bog. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry that happened to you, too.” Not pity in her eyes but a kindred sense of life’s unfairness. Of overcoming tragedy.

He felt an inflating sensation in his chest, as though his heart was reaching toward her. He pulled it back and swaddled it in that cocoon. “Hang on a sec, and I’ll help you out.” She might be perfectly capable of getting out on her own, but something inside him wanted to make this as easy as possible. Wanted to take care of her.

She’s not yours to take care of. That’s why Chase and his Navy SEALs are here.

Kristy leaned forward, her hair spilling over her shoulders in a curtain, and Griff braced his hands at her waist and lowered her to the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to release her. He stood there like an idiot for the longest three seconds of his life—well, the second longest—before he made himself drop his hands and look to where Chase and the crew were stepping out of their vehicle.

He had to force himself to head over to the men, though he couldn’t help glance back to see her following. She was taking in that big, delicious mud puddle, with her lower lip pulled between her teeth again.

“Does anything live in there?” she asked. “Like fish or other slimy creatures?”

“Just the bog slugs. But they’re real easy to pull off if they latch onto you. Kidding,” he added quickly at the horror on her face. “No, this is a man-made bog. Nothing in there but a lot of lost egos when the big talkers get bogged down.”

“I’m not actually going in there, right?”

The slight, effeminate cameraman aimed his lens at Kristy and whispered, “Go ahead and tell her what she’s going to do.”

“You’re gonna get muddy,” Griff called to her, unable to hide the grin or the teasing of his voice. He pointed to three Jeeps beneath a stand of maple trees. “And you’re gonna do it while driving one of those.”

“I’ll be driving?”

“Yep. You and the girls are going to race in this bog. We run races here all the time, and lots of women bring their own trucks or ATVs.” He usually watched from the judging grandstand, unwilling to join in. He’d only been home for ten months. He wasn’t ready to face the weekend crowds, especially since they included a lot of locals. They waved and shouted up to him, but Griff talked to them from a distance. This would be a nice taste of mud racing, like dipping his toe in.

But for now, he was enjoying the startled expression on Kristy’s face. “They’re probably manual shift, right?” she asked. “I only do automatic. And I won’t know what to do if I get stuck. I’ll probably tip the whole thing over.”

“They are manual, and I can teach you to drive it in about fifteen minutes. You will get stuck, but you’ll know how to get unstuck because I’m going to be in the Jeep with you. So you won’t tip it over.” Relief saturated her expression, and damn did that bring back that twisting in his chest. “You in?”

She lifted her hand in a high five. “I’m in.”

He met her palm with his. Only then did they realize the cameraman had been filming the whole thing.

The guy lowered the camera and gave them a wink. “Damn, I wish this was a real show. You two have fabulous chemistry.” He skipped back to the vehicle.

Griff glanced to see if that statement had horrified her.

Her half grin held a hint of sheepishness. “Well, Griff, now you have the same expression I probably had when I was taking in that mud bog. You sure you’re in?”

“Too far in to back out now.” He offered her his bent arm. “Let’s do this mud bog thing.”





CHAPTER 2


Griff looked decidedly disturbed by Trent’s assessment of their chemistry. Kristy might have been amused, if he hadn’t brought down a wall between them with a resounding crash. The statement surprised her. She didn’t think she could have chemistry with anyone. Not after all she’d been through and was going through now. But there was…well, something between her and Griff.

He excused himself to prepare the Jeeps, turning down her offer to help, which left her standing amid all the activity, watching him. Griff thought he was a monster. It made her want to pull him into her arms and coax him into telling her all his fears and pain and hopes.

Griff was no child who would succumb to coddling. He was six foot two and over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Though his shirt covered his chest and back, his biceps bulged, and his camo khakis tightened over muscular thighs. She wondered if he kept his left side facing her on purpose, given his concerns in the truck.

Which, damn, had really made her want to just lay her head on his shoulder and tell him that it didn’t matter what he looked like on the outside. It did. To him, to the world.

To you?

She was in no position to get involved with someone. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d entertained a romantic thought, much less partook in the act itself. But there she was watching him, and the sight of all that male power spiraled heat in her belly. Before the explosion, he’d been gorgeous. She could see his high cheekbone and strong jaw that scar tissue buried on the other side of his face. His light brown hair shone in the sun, thick, with a slight wave where it curled against his neck.