He glanced down her body. Not in a sexual way, but an assessment as to her level of fitness for his school’s programs. She had a feeling the jeans she had tucked into brown riding-style boots and her pink-and-blue sweater didn’t project “hard-core survivalist.” To his credit, he didn’t say anything except, “Have you had a chance to look over the options on the website? Some are more intense than others.”
She had read through them all with a fair amount of horror. Paying to freeze her butt off in the middle of nowhere wasn’t her idea of fun. Central heat and air-conditioning had been invented for a purpose, thank you very much. Not to mention how much she enjoyed bug-and wildlife-free sleeping arrangements. Her one and only camping experience with Noah had ended with her sleeping in the backseat of the truck after a centipede had gotten into her sleeping bag.
“Could you review them for me right quick?”
He gestured toward a sales counter tucked into the corner of the room. Instead of going around to the other side, he reached over, pulled a brochure from behind the counter, and spread it between them.
His hands were broad, with a few silvery scars along the backs. The sleeves of his red-and-blue plaid flannel were rolled up revealing thick, sinewy forearms dotted with dark hair. Her shoulder brushed his biceps.
She totally got his nickname. Grizzly. He was very bear-like, huge and intimidating, especially with the beard. Her stomach did calisthenics and not just from nerves. Or at least a different type of nerves. It had been a long time since she’d been anywhere near this level of sheer manliness.
His forefinger moved down the page as he detailed each option. She only half-listened. Fire starting. Navigation. Shelter building. Bowhunting. The inflections in his voice were similar to Noah’s—a Southerner then—but with key differences. Bennett’s accent was rougher around the edges and not quite as polished, but hypnotic. When he finished, he folded the brochure and held it out to her. She didn’t take it.
He cocked his head, his brows hovering low over his deep-set eyes. Dark-brown irises framed by an amber circle classified as unusual yet striking. As if she flew light-years in the past, she remembered them staring into hers the day he’d given her the check. Clean-shaven, he’d been skinnier then, almost gaunt, and in his eyes she’d recognized a familiar reflection of grief. That’s what she remembered.
“I’m thinking you aren’t really interested in a survival weekend.” Suspicion slowed the cadence of his words even more.
“Not really, no.” She took a step back to break the dynamic pull he exhibited. Did he affect everyone that way or was it only her? “You’re Bennett Caldwell.”
“I am.” He put the pamphlet down and faced her with his hands clasped behind his back, his feet braced apart. It was a stance Noah had favored as well.
“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me.”
“Why should I?”
“We met a few years ago and I want—”
He held up a hand. “Look, lady, I don’t know what you’re after, but we did not hook up. I damn sure would have remembered that.”
She barked out an incredulous laugh, on the cusp of asking whether he would have remembered in a good way or bad way. “You think that we…? Well, I never. I’m not here as one of your conquests, for goodness’ sake.” Her sweater had turned into a hotbox.
“How exactly are we acquainted?”
“My name is Harper Wilcox.”
His eyes flared and his body swayed backward as if she’d given him a physical shove. His throat worked, but no words emerged.
“I recently discovered something very interesting.” She continued when it became clear he was unable or unwilling to speak.
“What’s that, ma’am?” His voice was rougher and tougher and she might have been intimidated if she hadn’t been around and lived with a SEAL.
“’Ma’am’?” More than a little put out, she stepped forward and was gratified when he stepped back. A second ago, she’d been a possible hookup. “Did you actually go there? Pretty sure I’m younger than you are, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Wilcox?”
“Call me Harper, please.” She advanced again and this time he didn’t give any ground, even leaning forward to loom over her. “Considering I unwittingly named my son after you, Bennett, it’s only fitting.”
“You what?” He abandoned his casually aggressive stance and grabbed hold of the counter.
Time to press her advantage while he was unsteady. “Noah suggested the name Ben our last night together. I could tell it was attached to someone important. Just didn’t realize it was you. Now, why did you make up a fake bravery award in order to give me a truckload of money?”
His gaze darted over her face as if assessing her threat level. She hoped she registered as DEFCON 1.
“Would you have taken the money otherwise?” he asked.
“Of course not!”
“Well, then, there’s your answer.” His face shuttered, his tone indicating the matter was closed for discussion. He turned away from her.
She grabbed his arm. Through the thick flannel, the muscle was taut. “Hang on. That answer isn’t good enough. You realize I have to return the money.”
“Don’t want it. Don’t need it.” He looked to where she had hold of his arm. His profile would be at home carved in marble or etched on a coin. That’s how strong and hard his face was.
She should let go of him. Instead, she held on even tighter. “It’s not about wanting and needing. It’s about right and wrong.”
“Exactly. Right and wrong. And I made a promise to Noah—” His face blanked and turned cold.
A shiver traveled up her arm. “What promise?”
“It was nothing.” He looked off into the distance—or maybe into the past.
Whatever he had promised Noah was far from nothing. In fact, it might be the key to everything. How could she extract information he was unwilling to divulge? SEALs were trained to keep their secrets.
Her frustration boiled over, and she dropped his arm to poke him in the chest. “I’m going to write you a check right now.”
“I’ll tear it up.”
“I’ll send a certified money order.”
“I’ll send it back.”
“I’ll withdraw the cash from the bank, put it in a duffel, and throw it on your porch in the middle of the night.”
A twitch of his lips broke the stone cast of his profile, and he raised his gaze to hers. “You’re still as sassy and stubborn as I remember.”
She shuffled backward, her mind whirling.
* * *
Dammit. What had happened? His tongue was out of control. He was unbalanced. Everything about her had him reeling. She belonged to a different part of his life. One he’d done his best to box up and leave behind. The money had been a last-ditch sacrifice to the gods to appease his guilt.
“What are you talking about? To my knowledge this is only the second time we’ve met. Unless I’m mistaken?” Uncertainty edged her voice.
Time to climb out of the six-foot hole he’d dug for himself in two seconds flat. “You’re not mistaken.”
At his reticence, she waved her hands in a “gimme more” gesture. “How do you know I’m stubborn?”
“You’re not denying it?” He moved to the nearest rack and straightened hangers for something to do.
She gave an impatient-sounding huff. Or maybe the sound landed closer to pissed off. “Whether or not I’m stubborn has nothing to do with the issue at hand. Did Noah talk about me or something?”
“A bit.” More than a bit. All the damn time, if he was truthful. But, beyond that, Noah had gotten into the habit of reading Harper’s emails and occasional letter out loud. They’d been chock-full of humor and wit and normalcy. She had helped Bennett understand what they were fighting for even though he didn’t have anyone to protect. No one to live for.
“What does ‘a bit’ mean exactly?” She raised one eyebrow, the corner of her mouth ticked up to match.