Page 41 of The Darkest Chase
“Give him time. He’s more used to guys and cops, not…”
I stop, frowning.
How the fuck do I even describe her without giving away the flame in my blood?
There’s a soft twinkle in her eyes as she cocks her head at me.
“Not…?” A little smile plays about her lips. “What am I, Micah?”
“Difficult,” I snarl, shaking my head. I drop the parka again and deflect. “Just a second. I’ll get you one of my jackets.”
I duck inside, leaving her with Rolf, and quickly head to my bedroom to rummage in my closet. I’m not some wide tank like a few of my coworkers, but I’m tall enough that my jackets will hang down to her knees. Even so, it’s fine. If she needs protection against the cold, more coverage is better than less, even if a parka is a bit much.
I pull down a battered dark-grey military-style jacket with a warm inner lining, drape it over my arm, and head back outside.
Talia leans on the back of the Jeep, offering a hand to Rolf with a piece of beef jerky broken off from one of the snack packs. He delicately sniffs it and I stop, holding still, not wanting to ruin the moment when food softens his defenses.
Unlike with Lieutenant Graves, he’s taking a slower interest in her meat offering.
A second later, he rewards her by nipping the bite out of her hand, his tongue flicking lightly against her fingers.
“He took it!”
She pumps her fist, letting out a squeak and turning to look at me.
“The way to a dog’s heart and also a man’s, or so they say.” I step closer, offering her the jacket. “Here. Now take at least half those water bottles out of the bottom of your bag, zip up, and let’s get moving. Daylight’s wasting.”
She takes my jacket and curls it against her chest, just holding it, before she nods and folds it into the bottom of her rucksack. She digs out a half dozen water bottles next—she had almost a half a case in there—and drops them into the Jeep before she hoists it up.
“Oh, wow, that’s way lighter now.”
“You’ll still be feeling it by the time we break for lunch, believe me. Let me know if it gets to be too much.” I tighten the straps on my own bag, adjusting the fit around my shoulders. I watch as she tries to fling her bag on, fiddling with the adjustable bits. “Let me.”
“You make me feel so helpless.” She almost pouts before edging closer.
“You’re not helpless.” If anything, I’m the asshole who feels helpless right now, unable to stop the sharp tug of desire that bolts through me as I pull at the straps. My knuckles graze her arms, her shoulders, almost touching the sides of her breasts before pulling back like she’ll set me on fire. “You’re learning. There’s a difference. And you packed smart. You just overdid it. Notice I didn’t toss out the compass, sleeping bag, first aid kit, or spare clothing. Your head was in the right place.”
There’s also the clear outline of multiple inhalers and the rattle of pills from one of the interior zipper pouches.
I’m not going to point them out. I won’t embarrass her.
For some things, there’s no such thing as being overprepared.
When I finally step back, I realize she’s giving me another odd look.
Not that trembling, scared look. This is more measured, that enigmatic little smile on her lips again.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Talia shakes her head, rolling her shoulders and settling the straps with her thumbs, still smiling. “You’re just not like I expected before we met.”
“You had expectations? Before I gave you mouth-to-mouth?”
Gasping, she clamps her lips together, then lets out a loud laugh, shaking her head.
“Not like that. It’s just… you know. You hear things. Antisocial big-city guy, nice enough but everything slides off you like glass. No one really knows you, and around here that gets people talking. Rumors that you’re a serial killer or you’re in witness protection or something. I guess I was expecting you’d be—I don’t know—colder?”
Fuck.