The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)

“I can handle a couple of days in the great outdoors. I’m not a total wimp.” Physically, she was in good shape. She ran and worked out regularly. It was the cold and unknown she feared. And the possibility of finally finding out how Noah had died. Did she really want to know if he’d been in pain or if he’d said her name at the end? Uncertainty washed over her, but if she bailed now, it was over. Bennett wouldn’t be fooled again.

He pulled on a plaid flannel shirt that seemed to be his uniform and a lightweight jacket and then swung his pack over his shoulders without any indication of strain. Trying to imitate his level of casualness, she flung her own on. The weight tipped her balance and she stumbled backward until he caught her pack and shoved her upright.

“You sure about this?” he murmured so close his beard hair tickled her ear.

Like sticking her finger in an electrical socket, a jolt passed through her. It was vaguely familiar even though she hadn’t felt anything like it for years. Since Noah. It was attraction. Lust. Basic and primal and damned inconvenient.

“I’m sure,” she said even though she was nothing of the sort.

Bennett led the way out the door, but instead of heading toward his truck, he made for the tree line behind Seth’s ranger station. She followed, glancing over her shoulder at her car. It was her last chance to make a run for it. Forcing her eyes back to Bennett’s pack, she put one foot in front of the other, and when she looked again the forest blocked any view of civilization.

They trudged in silence. The gray sky peeked every so often through the trees but offered no hint as to how much time passed. She wasn’t in the habit of wearing a watch and her phone was stashed in her pack.

The ground was spongy. Pine needles littered the trail, and the going was easy, the pace brisk enough to generate enough body heat to stay comfortable.

A slight clearing opened in the trees with a circle of stones containing the charred remnants of a fire. She stopped, slipped her pack off, and stretched. That hadn’t been bad at all. He’d tried and failed to scare her away.

“Do you need a bathroom break already?”

She whipped around. He was on the opposite side of the clearing where no path cut through the thick brush. Jack London was sitting on his haunches at Bennett’s feet.

“Are we not setting up camp here?” She pointed at the fire ring.

A slow smile that was as chilly as the wind snaking down the collar of her shirt spread over his face. “This is for day hikers and Boy Scouts. We’re still on the refuge’s land.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Deeper. Off trail. Onto my land.”

“Out of the park?”

“Yep. Liability issues. I use Seth’s place as a jumping-off point, but your training will take place on my land.”

His tone skittered like crawly bugs down her spine. She would be at his mercy. Holding his gaze, she swung her backpack on and joined him.

He paused with his hand on a low branch and faced her. “What direction are we headed?”

“Uh…” She looked to the sky, but the cloud-obscured sun offered no hints. Noah used to joke she could get lost in their tiny town house. “West?”

His eyes narrowed.

“East?”

He made a huffy sound.

“North?”

“Ding-ding-ding. You got a compass?”

“On my phone.” She reached for the zipper pocket on the side.

“In a survival situation you might not have a phone. It might have broken. Or it might have lost its charge. What then?”

“I guess I need a real compass.”

He stared at her long enough to ignite nerves in her stomach. “Last chance. You should turn around.”

“No.” She cursed the questioning lilt in the denial.

“You can’t handle this. Admit it.” His voice contained equal amounts exasperation and anger.

“The hell I can’t.” She had no idea if she could actually handle it, but not even with her last breath would she admit that to him. She could handle anything for a weekend. As long as she didn’t freeze to death, and she had enough faith in Bennett not allowing that unfortunate event to occur. At the very least, it would be terrible for his business.

“I know why you’re doing this, and it’s not going to work.” His voice was soft but barbed with menace.

All right, their cards were on the table. Good. She didn’t like deception. “Answer my questions right here, right now, and we can turn around.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Then, lead on, Macduff.”

“You’re going to be miserable.”

“I’ll survive.”

She held his narrowed gaze until he shook his head and led them through the heavy undergrowth. The determination in his eyes made her fear it would take more than an overnight trip to wear him down to the truth.

A brambly bush grabbed at her jeans, and she stopped to unstick herself. Whatever his pants were made of repelled the thorns like Teflon. Somewhere along the makeshift path, she quit admiring the fabric of his pants and ended up admiring what was in them. He’d been out of the service for years, but he was solid, with thick, ropey muscles. Admiration on a purely physical level made for an excellent distraction.

However, the longer she trudged behind him, the further her admiration nose-dived. In fact, she started to entertain fantasies about kicking his butt. Except putting one foot in front of the other became a study in determination. Her new hiking boots were rubbing blisters on both heels and a few toes. Damn if she would admit it or ask him to stop, though.

Another hour or more of hiking through scrub and soft ground led them to a canal of stagnant-looking water that smelled of decomposing earth. Bennett stopped and gestured. “We have to get across this ditch. Have any ideas?”

The ditch was too wide to jump and continued as far as she could see in either direction with no sign of a man-made bridge. That would have been too easy for Bennett the Torturer.

“Tree catapult?” The pain in her feet revved up her snarkiness. “I’ve seen Wile E. Coyote make one.”

His lips twitched. “Inventive, but doesn’t he usually make a coyote-sized crater?”

About fifty yards downstream, she could see a downed tree. “Shimmy over on a tree?”

He gave a small nod. “Go for it.”

When she reached the fallen tree, it was obvious it had been used as a crossing many times, but it was too narrow for comfort and the water was murky, with a pungent, unpleasant odor. She could only imagine how cold it was. Dare she tackle the trunk like a balance beam? She glanced over her shoulder.

“Or if you want to head back rather than risk hypothermia after falling in the water, we can. No telling how deep the muck goes.” He tutted. “Might take weeks to get the stench out.”

He was attempting to get in her head. And succeeding. A nervous shudder had her knees going gelatinous.

“Ass,” she hissed under her breath.

“What was that?”

The way to extract information from him was with honey, not vinegar. She fought her tongue and, as usual, lost. “I said, you’re an ass.” She enunciated every word.

“’Bout time you caught on.”

The combination of his smirking Southern accent and the light of triumph in his eyes cinched the decision. Stepping onto the end of the tree, she did her best to ignore the heat of his gaze on her back and concentrated on her feet. A few steps from solid land, she looked up and lost her balance. Her heart accelerated like a car leaving the starting line. Flailing her arms, she scampered the last few feet and landed on her hands and knees on the bank.

She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans, the knees muddy and wet but not the rest of her. Bennett walked across with his thumbs tucked into the straps of his pack like he was taking a Sunday stroll. He hopped off the end and landed next to her. Jack was the last to cross, bounding over with no problems.

“I did it.” Her heart was beating with the shot of adrenaline.

She wasn’t sure what she expected. A pat on the head? A high five? The spilling of secrets in the face of her meager accomplishment?

“Barely. Jack made it over with more grace.”

Sadly, she couldn’t dispute the facts. “Yeah, well. Yay for me.”

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