Tell Me You Want Me (Search and Seduce, #2)(3)

He’d been there, done that, and it was always the same. A bunch of rich people looking for something to talk to their friends about later. “I survived in the wild!” they’d say, and Dex always wanted to vomit, because seriously, braving the wilderness didn’t come with four-star campers or sangria by the fire. A fire that Dex always had to make for the upper-class *s, because rubbing some sticks together would get their precious hands dirty.

This whole damn thing was a nightmare, and he hated it.

“I told you I’m not doing this bullshit ‘adventure for the one percent’ explorations anymore.” These outings gave him migraines, and after last week’s Millionaire’s Club, he was certain a tumor was forming behind his right eye. One more yuppie looking for “an experience,” and Dex would claw his face off.

“Look, Chloe called me, and she needs me home tonight. So suck it up, and teach the class. It’s only for tonight. Don’t kill anyone or let them die, and you’ll get your hours.”

Shit, his hours. Well, he couldn’t argue against that point. Not if he wanted to keep his damn job.

Dex had been doing search and rescue for years, and he was due for recertification. He’d been out of town a lot on missions, but now that the summer was coming to a close, he was back home for the long haul. He had to log eighteen hours of “training” for his job. At the very least, this stupid class would count for something.

“I get my hours doing this and you’ll sign off, so I can be done with the recertification?”

“Yep,” Gage said and slapped Dex’s back. “The group is a small one, but they’re meeting at outpost twenty-seven on the edge of the forest in…” He glanced at his watch. “Now. So you better get moving.”

“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” Dex grumbled.

“Love you too, bro.” With that, Gage took off.

Dex got in his truck, checked his rucksack, and drove to the outpost. When he got to the small cabin, he stopped and looked around.

Nature. He was surrounded by nature.

Which was why the lone woman bending over in what had to the be the tightest jeans he’d ever seen, looked out of place and f*cking amazing all at the same time.

And I didn’t think nature could get any better…

He was wrong. One look at that A+ ass and long legs and damn, nature got a hell of a lot better.

“You with the wilderness group?” he called, walking up behind Perfect-Ass Barbie.

She stood up straight and turned to face him. Christ, he thought the back was a sight, but the front was even better. She was tall and trim and had some sexy curves that defied logic. A pile of red hair was secured back tightly, and her wide blue eyes put a Carolina sky to shame.

“I think I am the wilderness group,” she replied, then bent down again to flick a leaf off of her black heeled shoe contraptions. He couldn’t really call them boots; rather, some pretty imitation of what real hiking boots were. No, he didn’t know what the hell was on her feet, but they sure weren’t practical. With all the straps and laces and what had to be a solid four-inch heel, he didn’t even know if they were functional.

“I was told there was a group,” he tried again.

“Yeah,” she said, not sparing him a glance, instead licking her thumb, then going back to the task of hand cleaning the toe of her so-called boot. But his damn cock jumped at the quick glimpse of her tongue. “In the lecture today, there were four other people, but I think they decided to go to happy hour instead of the camp out tonight.”

Shit. Dex ran a hand over the back of his neck. It was no surprise. Gage had probably bored the group into a coma with his lectures. No wonder they’d all flaked today. All but this woman. A woman who was still intent on cleaning her boot. Jesus. Well, he had to admire her determination when others had given up so quickly, but did she have to be so…so…

“You realize we’re in the woods, right?” Dex asked, feeling the need to clarify that she was bound to get dirty.

She looked up, and Dex tried—really tried—to look at her face and not down her silky shirt that was currently showing off some full creamy cleavage in a red lace bra.

“Of course,” she said. “But these are my favorite.” She went back to wiping off the boot, and Dex’s head was on the verge of exploding. He knew women like her. Rich, uptown, and uptight. He’d never met her personally, but it was clear this woman was not small town or into getting dirty other than for a romanticized night at a time. And Dex would know, because he played that part well. The one night at a time part. Come to think of it, he played the dirty part well, too.

Dex was the bastard son of Talcom LeRoy, a rich name with a rich family. Dex didn’t know any of them. Including ol’ pop himself. Since it was a small town, though, everyone knew his father and his mother and the scandal of Dex’s birth thirty years ago. But time had passed, and people had moved on. Literally. His father lived with his “real” family in Savannah, and the rest was history. His mother was still in Beaufort. Living in the same small trailer Dex had grown up in.

No matter how many times Dex tried to get her a new place to live, she stayed right where she was, saying that she was happy with her lot in life, which was at the poverty line. Not that Dex actually let her live like that. She could be stubborn and keep her trailer, but he paid all her bills and made sure she wanted for nothing. Taking care of her was what he did. Hell, it was also what he did for a living. Because sometimes, people couldn’t take care of themselves, which was where Dex came in. He was determined to help people learn how to be independent. At the end of the day, the best thing that could happen was he’d become obsolete, and they’d discard him. In his eyes, that meant he’d done his job and shown them how to truly take care of themselves.