“It was grrrrrreat.” He rolled the description out like Tony the Tiger. “It went like a gabillion miles fast.” Unable to contain his enthusiasm, he bounced repeatedly on his heels.
“A gabillion?” Faith said with a straight face and level voice. “I’m unfamiliar with that unit of measurement.” When the delight didn’t dim on his face, she relaxed slightly. This wasn’t nearly as difficult as she’d feared. Maybe it wouldn’t be so unsettling sharing the cabin with Amy’s children after all. “Is that faster than a million miles per hour?”
“Like a gabillion times faster,” he assured her, his small face blazing with zest.
Before Faith had a chance to respond, Amy appeared with the second dark-haired, dark-eyed boy in tow.
“I see you’ve met Benji, my youngest.” Amy’s face had shed twenty years, along with most of the deep crevices brought on by stress. She rested a hand on the shoulder of the older child. “This is Brendan, my oldest. Brendan, this is Faith Ansell.”
“Hello,” Faith said, accepting and shaking the hand the older boy solemnly held out while her earlier discomfort reared up to strangle her. “Very nice to meet you.” Which was a little better than I hope you had a good flight but not by much.
“Have you been on a hellcopper?” the little tyke asked, tugging on Faith’s blouse amid another round of heel bopping.
“Helicopter,” Amy corrected him.
A confused expression crossed his face. “That’s what I said.”
While Amy and her son had a pronunciation moment, Faith studied the children. She would never have guessed they were Amy’s kids. Both boys sported dark hair and dark eyes, rather than their red-haired, hazel-eyed mother’s coloring. Since the darker coloring was predominant in the boys, she could deduce the coloring of their father. Genetics at work. Fascinating.
“Boys, help me set the table,” Amy said, which sounded like a fine idea to Faith as well.
As she gathered silverware and napkins, she kept an eye on the door. There’d been no sign of Rawls since he’d fled the lodge that morning, which meant he’d gone all day again without eating. But it would be useless to call him to dinner—he’d simply ignore the summons as he’d done every night since they’d arrived.
She glanced around the table, soaking up the laughter and cacophony of voices, as everyone took their seats and began passing around platters of food. It was odd how, even amid the clatter of dishes and the rise and fall of voices, she still felt so isolated and alone.
The window across from her was getting darker by the second as night fell. Where was Rawls? Did his mind keep circling back to that kiss, like hers did?
Had it meant anything to him at all?
* * *
Chapter Nine
* * *
RAWLS ROLLED ONTO his side in the sleeping bag and scanned the silent compound. Overhead the ashen tint of dawn grayed the sky and tinted the tree trunks, pine needles, and shrubby brush surrounding him a brackish maroon. He’d set up camp between two downed pine trees, flanked by a four-foot scraggly bush. The spot was several yards past the tree line to the east of the complex, but close enough to the helipad to allow for a quick interception when Wolf returned.
He had a good visual of the entire compound thanks to the angle of the two tree trunks he’d sheltered within. After dragging the end of the first tree closer to the second until they formed a V, he’d hollowed out the soft earth between them until the space would accommodate his six-foot-four-inch frame.
After piling pine boughs along either side of the trunks, he’d crawled inside his sleeping bag. By dragging the stockpiled branches across the trunks and over his head, he’d formed a rudimentary shelter of sorts. One that shielded him from both the elements and unwelcome eyes.
Not that his makeshift accommodations would fool his teammates if they got close enough for a good look, but from a distance—particularly at night—he’d blend into his surroundings. But the structure might fool Faith’s more inexperienced eyes if she came looking for him. Although why would she seek him out after the ass he’d made of himself following that kiss?
As though thinking about her had conjured her, toward the far end of the compound, a woman wrapped in a dark coat came into view. Judging by her black hair and thin frame, the early riser was Faith. From her course, which was on a direct intercept with the lodge, she was probably getting a start on breakfast.