Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(31)
“I’m not having dinner with you.”
“Is that a yes to PT then?” Because he could deal with the dinner part later.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said noncommittally.
Played that game. “Go ahead and check,” he said, pulling off a thin strip of the steel wool and tugging it until there was ample flow for oxygen to pass through. “I’ve got time.”
And that was the heart of the problem, he thought. Dax had spent the past decade going full force, running headfirst into hostile territory. There wasn’t time in his line of work to stand idle, at least not without increasing his visibility, not to mention the chance of getting himself, or his men, killed.
Small-town living was all about the slow pace, being neighborly, and smelling the roses. Dax was pretty sure that smelling any more roses would send him into anaphylactic shock. So he picked up a few pieces of drier wood lying under an oak tree, placed them on the other side of the pit, and went to work.
“So about PT?” He scraped a stick on the side of the barbecue until he got to the dry center, collected the fibers into a little ball, stacked some of the smaller twigs, then finally the branches. Satisfied with his pyramid, he unscrewed the top of the flashlight and took out the batteries.
“Fine,” she said. “I can take you tomorrow after I close down the cart. Now stop messing with my things. I have work to do and you’re taking up all my working space.”
She reached for the flashlight and he gave it to her, keeping the batteries and turning his back on her and the wind. He stacked the batteries on top of each other, then laid the steel wool on the contacts of the batteries, and poof.
Dax was in business.
“Oh my God,” Emerson said, trying to look over his shoulder. “It’s glowing.”
He quickly moved the flame to his tinder ball, and with a few strategic, controlled blows it started smoking.
“Fire,” she said, shoving him aside. “You made fire. In like two seconds. Is that even possible?” Since she seemed to be asking herself, he remained silent, then she lifted those big eyes his way, and Dax felt his throat cave in, because Emerson was looking at him as if this was more than a hot-little-kiss kind of moment. More than using a Basic Survival Training 101 skill.
She was looking at him as if he’d just stepped in and saved her day. And worse, he felt that addictive rush that came with playing hero. The one that gave even the most grounded soldier enough of a complex to make life-altering mistakes. And it was working. Dax felt himself surrender to the moment. “Want me to show you?”
She nodded, her smile so animated he felt himself being pulled into her sexy vortex. “I want you to show me and my friends how to survive in the wild.”
Not the cozy little rendezvous he was imagining, but still, something he could work with. “It will cost you.”
Emerson looked at his expression as if trying to read his thoughts, and since they centered around him and her, in the wild, under the stars, naked and making heat, he was glad for all of the interrogation training he’d received. And when he was certain she was going to tell him to screw off, she glanced at her watch and let out a long sigh. “Fine, I’ll drive you to PT and cook you dinner.”
“Breakfast and dinner,” he countered, then added, “at my house as agreed upon,” when she seemed like she was sifting her way through the loopholes. Her clenched jaw said she was doing just that. “And no more stealthy aid drops on my porch step.”
She didn’t counter as he’d expected, just zeroed in on something over his shoulder and said, “Deal. I take you to PT and cook you two meals a day. In your house. As agreed upon. And you promise to help me and my girls survive in the wilderness.”
“Babe, I survived four tours in the middle of the desert with only my sense of humor and sand fleas to keep me company.” He’d also had his squad with him, but he didn’t like to talk about them with people who couldn’t understand. “I think I can handle teaching a few ladies how to make fire and set up a designer tent.”
Something about the way she smiled, then eagerly stuck out her hand, as if she didn’t want to give him the chance to change his mind, should have had his internal warning system nearing DEFCON 1. But he was playing hero. And heroes didn’t hesitate, because they naively thought themselves invincible. So he took her hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it. “I take that as we have a deal?”
“Oh yeah,” she said a little too smoothly for his liking. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out another ball cap, and placed it on his head. This one was red and said LOVELY. “Sealed with a kiss even. On the hand, but binding enough.”
She went on her toes and looked over his shoulder. “Hey, girls, let’s get this meeting started by meeting your new Lovely leader.”
“Oh, goodie! Do we call him Lovely Leader Mister?” a familiar and whimsical voice asked.
Dax slowly turned around, and DEFCON 1 didn’t even begin to describe the situation. He’d faced down a mob of terrorists with only one clip, broken into a terrorist camp to rescue a captured squadmate, even watched a piece of shrapnel blow through his knee with enough force to take him out. Yet he’d never been as terrified as right then—staring down a small mob of pint-sized troops in red bows, pleated skirts, and glittery sneakers.