by Jill Shalvis
“Or?”
“Maybe the caves at Kaniksu.”
Something flickered in his eyes, coming and going too fast to name. “The caves?”
“At Kaniksu, yes. He’s recently started going there, too.”
He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Call him again,” he said, waiting until she did just that.
She did, and got her dad’s voice mail message. “His phone’s still off.”
Or dead.
“Let’s move,” he said, bringing her thoughts back to something productive.
“Mount Eagle or Kaniksu?” she asked his back.
Adam dropped his chin to his chest and muttered something she didn’t catch before lifting his head. “Mount Eagle first.”
She nodded, and he gestured her ahead of him. “After you,” he said.
As she led the way back to where they’d left the ATV, she wondered if he was watching her ass this time.
At the ATV, Adam pulled out lunch. He had bagels, on which he squeezed peanut butter from a tube, then sprinkled raisins on top. He handed her one, meeting her startled gaze. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Except this seems so…domestic of you.”
“It’s carbs, protein, and sugars,” he said as if she’d insulted him. “Body fuel.”
“It is,” she agreed. “It’s also a little cute, at least compared to the bag of beef jerky I packed.”
He was far too good to scowl or frown at cute, but she could tell he was doing both on the inside. She watched him give Milo water and a doggy biscuit, his hand fondly ruffling the dog’s fur.
In response, Milo set his big head on Adam’s thigh and gazed up at him adoringly.
“He’s pretty darn cute, too,” Holly said.
Adam slid her a look. “What is it with you and cute?”
She wasn’t sure. Hormones? “There’s nothing wrong with cute, you know.”
“We’re not cute.”
Okay, that was probably true about Adam ninety-nine percent of the time. To the best of her recollection, there was very little cute about him. Sexy, yes. Cute…no. But then he gave Milo a full body rub that had the dog practically purring, and she had to revise. Maybe he had more than one percent cute in him.
“He was neglected before I got him,” Adam said, still stroking Milo. “He gets separation anxiety if he can’t sleep near me. He goes to Dell’s when I’m traveling and eats up Jade’s shoes like bonbons.”
“Aw, he misses you.”
“More like Dell’s a sap and lets him do whatever he wants.”
“Where did you get him?” Holly asked.
“When I first got stateside, my counselor wanted me to get a dog. It’s part of the therapy. I was working with dogs as a liaison between breeders and trainers and was in Arizona when I saw Milo for the first time. He was one of eight. I was supposed to take the entire litter. But the breeder refused to give me Milo, saying he was a liability. Apparently he’d failed all early training attempts. The breeder was calling him Frat Boy, because Milo was always just looking for a good time. Said he was no good, would never amount to anything, and the possibility of him being an S&R dog was absolutely nil. He wouldn’t let me take him with the others because he was afraid I’d demand my money back down the road. Milo was slated for the Humane Society. Death row, of course.”
As if he could understand the words, Milo leaned up and licked Adam’s chin, and Holly felt twin tugs of amusement and something far deeper and harder to breathe past. “So how did you end up with him?” Holly asked.
“I said I’d make a deal for all eight or no deal at all.” He slung an arm around Milo, who leaned into him. “And the breeder was right. He was a complete Frat Boy.”
“And you what, dog-whispered him?”
Adam shook his head with a low laugh. “I’m not a dog whisperer. That implies some sort of extraordinary ability. I have a method with a curriculum. That’s all.”
“So you saved his life and kept him as your own.”
“Well, I couldn’t very well pawn him off on anyone.”
Milo gazed adoringly into Adam’s eyes, his own bright, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, which appeared to be tipped up into a smile.
Adam shook his head at the dog, but he smiled.
The guy didn’t fool Holly for one hot minute. He’d always been far more into animals than people, a product of growing up knowing that you weren’t wanted or particularly valued, she supposed. That he’d managed to grow up at all and not be a statistic was amazing, but that he was also a man to admire, even more so.
And if she was admitting that, she also had to admit he had a lot of really great qualities. Sure, he had more than his fair share of faults as well; he was intensely private and didn’t like to share himself, not to mention doggedly aggressive and bullheaded…But on the other side of all that, he put others’ needs and safety ahead of his own, always. He was smart as hell, fiercely loyal, driven to succeed, and he had a deceptive playful side that she hadn’t seen in a long time but was catching glimpses of now with Milo. She popped her last bite of bagel in her mouth. “Want to know what I think?”
“No.”
She added obnoxious to his list of faults. “I think beneath that badass layer of testosterone and Neanderthal tendencies, you’re just a big old softie.”
He slid her a patented steely look. “Testosterone and Neanderthal tendencies?”
She shrugged and reached for her water. “If the shoe fits…”
He shook his head, but his eyes might have gleamed with the slightest bit of amusement as he did. “There’s a fault with your logic.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I’m not soft. Anywhere.”
She choked on her water, which only got worse when he leaned in to pat her on the back. While she gasped for air and sputtered, he took the water and capped it for her. Then he held it back out to her, steady.
Definitely amused.
She snatched the bottle from his fingers, firmly ignoring the zap of attraction as she touched him, deciding it was static electricity. Unsure, and just a little shaken, she stood. “We need to get going.”
They headed to Mount Eagle, and thanks to the weather, it took nearly all of their remaining daylight hours, and the trek didn’t have a happy ending. The abandoned old ranger station that her father used as a hunting base when he was up here was just that—abandoned.
No one had been here in weeks, maybe longer.
Adam let out a breath and turned to Holly.
The wind was whipping, the snow falling lightly now. He had his hood up, reflective glasses on, hands shoved in his pocket. With the daylight fading fast, leaving in its wake the hovering glow of dusk, he could have graced the cover of any magazine.
He took her breath. Oh God, she was stupid enough to let him take her breath.
“Hey,” Adam said, frowning as he dropped his pack and moved to her. “You okay?”
When would he get it—she was always okay. Although she did feel a little dizzy…
Adam tugged her pack off, keeping his hands on her arms.
Milo came close and whined softly, nudging his warm, wet nose into the palm of her hand.
“We moved fast,” Adam said, ducking a little to look into her eyes. “Really fast, at altitude. Sit a minute—”
“No.” She shook her head and patted Milo on the head. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Be fine sitting down.” Adam pushed her to a rock in front of the shell of the ranger station and hunkered before her, hands on her thighs now, holding her in place, studying her face.
“It’s nothing,” she said, tipping her head up. A few snowflakes landed on her heated face. “I just got dizzy for a minute.”
“Stay still.”
Staying still was a great idea. Being this close to Adam, not so much. In fact, it was a really, really bad idea. The worst idea she’d had since…since that morning when she’d sneaked onto his ATV instead of finding anoth
er way to get here.
She looked off into the fading light rather than directly into his eyes. Looking directly into Adam’s eyes was always a problem. It caused a condition known as lust, which in turn caused its own condition.
Stupidity.
She really hated this helpless attraction she had for him, especially since it wasn’t reciprocated. Never again. She was never again going to love a man who didn’t love her. From inside her pocket, her phone vibrated. Surprised that she even had reception up here, she pulled it out to find two texts, the first from Derek that was short and to the point.
Need to see you.
Ha. So he’d finally deigned to notice she was gone. He could “need to see her” all he wanted. She was over him and his needs.
Delete.
The second text was from Kate.
You okay?
This was debatable, but Holly typed back that she was fine, though there’d been no sign of her father yet.
Kate responded immediately.
Spending the night with the big, bad, stoic hottie?
Holly choked out a laugh. Adam leaned in and read the text before she could delete it. He went brows up and looked at her.
She shook her head. “Kate thinks she’s funny.”
“‘Hottie’?”
“Yes, it’s what people who look like you are called.”
“Thought I was cute,” Adam said.
“I’m rethinking that.”
Still hunkered before her, balanced on the balls of his feet, he rubbed a hand over his jaw. Once again, the stubble there made a rough noise that scraped at her insides low in her belly.
And lower.
“We’re not sleeping together,” she blurted out.
“I know.”
She felt…let down. How dumb was that? But damn, it would have been nice for him to reveal even the slightest bit of disappointment. Instead, he was back to his silent, badass self. He eyed the skyline, the line of his mouth grim. He was dusted in snowflakes, not that he seemed to notice or care.
When he turned to her, she got sucked in by his gaze and had to fight the most insane urge not to fist his jacket and pull him close. For comfort.
For more.
The thought caused an inner heat barely doused by the cool flakes falling on them. But she couldn’t go there, couldn’t think about Adam like that, not with her dad still missing.
Actually, she shouldn’t think about Adam like that, ever. “So…to the caves?”
He turned away. “In the morning.”
Oh boy. “You mean—”
“It’s time to stop for the night.”
Something low in her belly quivered. Anxiety, absolutely. But also something else, something that had nothing to do with her missing dad. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We’re going to find him.” His voice said there was no other acceptable option. “Just not until daylight.”
She stared out into the night, thinking of all the reasons why her dad hadn’t been in touch with her, not a single one of them good. She swallowed hard against the building fear and nodded. They were stopping for the night.
It was going to be a long one.
Eight
Adam gathered wood for a fire, keeping an eye on Holly. She was sitting on a log, hands clenched, staring down at her feet as if she wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten her here.
She was cold, wet, and tired. He knew because he was those things, too. But discomfort was something he had learned to simply endure, and his own was insignificant compared to the discomfort and other various emotions pouring off the unusually silent woman in front of him.
The best thing he could do for them both was get the fire going, put food in their bellies, and make sure they got some sleep. It would also keep his mind off the fact that they were going to Kaniksu tomorrow.
The fucking caves.
He shook that off for now, he had no choice. They couldn’t both lose it at the same time. Not that he intended to lose it at all.
The fire only took a moment. Another to access the food he’d brought and push some of it on her. Water, too. The altitude could be a real killer if they didn’t stay hydrated. He was good at this part, at surviving. Even when others didn’t. What he wasn’t good at was emotions, and Holly was emitting them as fast and furious as the falling snowflakes. He sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to face yet another of his failures, but there she sat, his biggest one.
Needing him.
He, a man who could barely commit to a dental appointment much less another human being.
And yet he couldn’t fail her.
Not again.
He concentrated on Milo for a minute, getting him watered and fed. Checking his paws again, making sure everything was okay. When he’d finished bustling around like a damn housewife, he sat across the fire from Holly. Across was best. Far enough away that he wouldn’t be tempted to touch. Distance was the key here.
She appeared to be holding it together, but the cracks were showing. She was trying to be tough, trying to hold her own, and she was breaking his heart.
She lifted her head and stared at him with those gorgeous eyes. As always, her face and body language told him everything he needed to know about what she was thinking and feeling. She was upset, scared, unsettled, and…depending on him. There’d been a time where he’d have done anything to have her look at him like he was her everything. That time had passed. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, hoping to God that was true.
She nodded. Then shook her head. She put her hand to her chest. “I really thought we’d have found him by now.”
Aw, hell. He rose and moved to her side.
“I’m okay,” she said, breathless. “I think I’m just having a very mild, very overdue anxiety attack. Ignore me.”
Yeah, right. He reached out to pull her in, but a quick glance at her face confirmed how much of a mistake that would be. Smoothly he adapted and tossed another log into the fire instead.
A wolf howled and was joined by a few others, and Holly tensed, and then scooted closer while still managing not to actually touch him.
“The fire will keep them back,” he said.
“I know.” But her eyes darted to the forest beyond.
“You’re not breathing.”
“I am so.” She proved this by attempting to drag in a breath, which had her body brushing his. A quick tactile memory hit him, the feel of her warm skin and the soft weight of her breasts in the palm of his hand. The taste of her pebbled nipple as he sucked her in his mouth. The sound of her ragged, aroused breathing in his ear…
The ragged breathing wasn’t a memory. She was going to hyperventilate. “Sometimes when people get anxious, they breathe too shallowly, from the upper chest. It’s a natural response to stress. But your body responds with an increase in blood pressure, and then even more stress hormones are released, so it’s counterproductive.”
“I’m not anxious,” she said.
She was sitting ramrod straight so she didn’t accidentally touch him. Respecting the space bubble, he kept his hands to