“No. We aren’t an item. We’re just…”
What are we exactly? Not mere acquaintances. Those hundreds of emails and those few heart-to-heart phone conversations had pushed them far beyond such an insipid term. Friends, maybe? But that implied a strictly platonic relationship. And even though there was only that one kiss between them—that one amazing kiss—every time they touched it was obvious they were more than just friends.
So, what? How to define them?
“We’re…um…pen pals,” he finished. And the minute the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to call them back.
And the trophy for Asshat of the Year goes to…Bran Pallidino! Otherwise known as King Dipshit from Dipshit Island!
Mason made a strangled noise like he’d accidentally swallowed his tongue. Maddy just narrowed her eyes at him. And Rick nodded enthusiastically and said, “Oh, that’s good.” The underlying because I’m hot to trot and looking to fill that slot was so obvious the guy might as well have said the words aloud.
“Oh yeah?” Is that my voice that sounds more like the growl of a grizzly bear? “Why is that good?”
Rick’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Uh…” He glanced sheepishly at Maddy. “I just meant that…” He trailed off when something outside suddenly snagged his attention.
“What is it?” Bran demanded, marching over to nudge Rick aside so he could see. He assured himself he didn’t use more force than was necessary, but the wide-eyed look on the ranger’s face called him a big fat liar.
“I…” Rick swallowed again, backing away from Bran as he hitched his chin toward the window. But he didn’t say anything more. Too scared Bran might point the business end of his M4 at his head, maybe? And why wouldn’t Rick be scared, given the way Bran was acting?
Shiiiiittt!
And this was why Bran insisted his relationship with Maddy remain exactly as it was. She provoked the part of him he was most ashamed of.
“One of the girls just crossed the bridge and is headed our way,” Mason said, his big shoulders tense as he angled his rifle through the open front door and scanned the face of the fort for additional movement.
“One of the girls?” Maddy’s voice broke, the sound of the fear she’d been holding at bay bubbling up through the crack.
Bran could feel her come up beside him. She spotted the blond girl with the ponytail hustling over a little dune at the same time he did.
“It’s Sally Mae!” she cried, throwing an arm around his waist and hugging him tight. “Oh, thank heavens she’s okay!”
Her relief, her excitement was catching. So even though he knew better, he hugged her back. Just as he’d suspected, the instant he had her in his arms, he didn’t want to let her go.
Chapter 8
7:36 p.m.…
“Oh, come on!” Maddy huffed. “It’s not like I asked you to skin your neighbor’s cat. So you can stop with the googly eyes. I just asked to come with y’all to rescue Donna and Louisa.”
“No.” Bran shook his head while sliding out the magazine on his machine gun to check how many bullets he had left. Or at least that’s what Maddy assumed he was doing since that’s the reason the movies always gave for that particular move.
Sally Mae had managed to escape her captor’s clutches when he was dragging her across the grassy parade grounds inside the fort. The way Sally Mae told it, a bit of cat and mouse had ensued with him chasing her, and her hiding in various places before she was eventually able to make it to the entrance. Her pursuer had stopped there, not daring to follow her further. And after seeing the light on in the ranger’s station, Sally Mae had headed straight for it. Now she was sitting on Rick’s bed, drinking the bottle of water Maddy had pressed into her hand and watching them with wide, red-rimmed eyes. But she was especially watching Bran, who was being obstinate and tyrannical and…and…male.
Truly, Maddy was tempted to smack the handsome right off his face. Of course, if she was being totally honest with herself, some of her temper might have a smidge to do with that whole “pen pals” comment.
I mean, pen pals? Really?
If he believed that, he was crazier than a catfish carrying a canteen, as her grandma used to say.
“Those girls out there don’t know you from Adam.” She pointed to the front door. When he simply lifted a brow, she curled her finger into a fist. “What if they don’t understand that you’ve come to save them?” she continued, infusing her voice with determination. “And what if that causes them to do somethin’ silly? Like, not obey your orders? Or run off the first chance they get? Or…or…” She searched her brain frantically, but it’d run out of examples. “Or somethin’ else equally foolish?” she finished with far less oomph than she would have liked.