Quinn I (Undaunted Men #1)

by J. C. Cliff

  When I’m done, I lean over her, resting my hands on either side of her legs, and stare intently into her brown eyes. She tenses for a second, probably thinking I'm going to scold her again. I make sure my tone is soft and full of concern as I tell her, “I want you to tell me if and when your feet start bothering you, okay? It's important to me to know how you're feeling.”

  “I will, I promise. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “How do you know all this?” she asks puzzled .

  “I’ve been doing this backwoods shit my entire life, sweetheart. I just know it.” I lean in a little closer, inches from her lips, wanting to drive my point home. Her breath hitches as if I'm going to kiss her. “Your feet are always your number one priority. If your feet are miserable, then you’re miserable, and it only gets worse from there.” She nods her head in understanding. I think I've finally driven my point home. I back away and stand up to give her a helping hand up off the ground.

  She takes my hand to stand up, and then she surprises the ever-loving Hell out of me by wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, giving me a sincere hug. I stand awkwardly for a second as she snuggles her face into my neck, and then I give in. I close my eyes, letting my hands slide around to her backside, and close my eyes. She fits against my body like a glove, as if she was made just for me. I rest my cheek on her head, breathing her in, and gently stroke her back. When the hug lasts a little longer than one of gratitude, I ask her, “Hey, are you okay?”

  She lifts her head and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “I think you were sent to help me by my guardian angel,” she softly confesses. I drop my chin to look down on her, and her eyes are glossed over. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. Well…catastrophic actually, and I didn’t know how I was going to get through last night all by myself.” She removes one of her arms from around me, using her ring finger to dab at the corner of her eye. She looks into my eyes with admiration. “Not only have you taken care of me, but you want to help guide me to my destination. You will never be able to comprehend how you’ve made me feel.”

  Of all the things for her to say, I didn’t expect this. She appears so down-to-earth, sincere, grateful, and most of all, honest. Her words stir something deep within me. I caress the side of her face, her beautiful olive skin playing against the natural sunlight.

  She’s so stunning, nothing like I had imagined her to be. There’s an interesting connection happening between us, and it kind of scares the shit out of me. I’m a little caught off guard about it and don’t know how to respond, so I kiss her forehead and reply, “It’s all good, Angel.”

  Over the past couple days, I’m slowly figuring out this complex woman by bits and pieces. Despite her age, she comes off as young, innocent, and wholesome in a lot of ways. I would've thought with her exposure to what her family does for a living she would've been more street smart than she actually is, and from the short time I’ve spent with her, I noticed she can be easily influenced.

  I’ve also noticed she can be a bit impulsive. Even though she had some decent supplies for this last minute journey, I don’t see her as the one who planned any of it. I view her as being a tad disorganized, and not one to think things through, hence the blisters on her feet.

  Granted, she seems to be handling her hardships and adversities for the most part. Well, other than the nightmares she’s been having every night, but I’d say she copes rather well in the daytime hours. Maybe it’s all the distractions keeping her mind busy during the day.

  I had to combine our sleeping bags last night to calm her down again. She woke up crying out Griffen’s name, and then she went all hostile, screaming some man’s name. I didn’t catch the name, and when I asked her about it, she shut down. I don’t know what to do for her when she wakes up that way, other than hold her, because she’s obviously not ready to talk about things.

  After a few hours of hiking, I have to say I’m impressed. I hadn’t heard one word of complaint about her feet. She’s not the prissy whiner I imagined her to be, and she doesn’t seem to mind getting her hands dirty. “How are your feet holding up?” I ask loudly, projecting my voice a few yards ahead of me.

  “I’m doing okay,” she calls out over her shoulder. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of hiking behind her fine ass most of the morning, but she hasn’t drank much water, and I don’t need her getting dehydrated.

  “Hey, hold up a minute, okay?” I place the tips of my fingers on the inside edges of my mouth and whistle out to Kimber, letting her know I’ve stopped. I detach my canteen strap from my backpack as she turns around, watching me with interest. I unscrew the top and take a long drink. When I'm done, I hold my water out to her and she hesitates. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you thirsty?”

  “Yeah, a little bit,” she says as she steps forward to take the canteen from my hand. I study her as she drinks a few small sips, thinking she’s not drinking nearly enough. When she’s done, she hands the canteen back to me and says, “Thank you.”

  “You know you really should be drinking more water than you are.”

  She holds up her palm, assuring me, “I'm good, really.” I give her a wary look, but drop the subject. I will have to keep track of her intake, and if I don't think she's taking in enough fluids, we will need to have a serious chat.

  “How old are you?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. Even though I already know her age, I’m interested in how she responds, testing her honesty.

  “How old do I look?” Both of her brows are raised in what I believe is a challenge.

  I shake my head at her; this isn’t going to happen. “Uh-uh, that’s a trick question. I know I’m going to be damned either way. I like my question better.” Her lips twitch as she tries to stifle a laugh. “What? It’s true, and you know it,” I contend while grinning. “You women have some weird way of twisting shit all around in your head. You're always taking our words out of context, or worse, you create some hidden meaning behind the things we say, and then we men wind up in trouble and don’t even know what the hell we did. Fact is, our words are just that, words.”

  She rubs at her forehead, probably wishing she’d never gotten me started. “Okay, fine. I’m twenty-seven,” she replies while studying my reaction. “What? What’s that look on your face mean?” she accuses, already condemning me for something I didn’t do.

  I can’t help it. I start to chuckle. “I guess I forgot to add men’s facial expressions to the list.” She steps forward and playfully swats at my chest, and I let her. I’m enjoying seeing this side of her. Beats trying to calm her in the middle of the night.

  “Are you trying to tell me voice inflection and facial expressions don’t convey feelings or emotions?”

  “No, I'm not. What I’m trying to say is you females always misconstrue those very things, and then twist them all around, making us out to be the bad guy every time.”

  “Well, with the crew of Italians I grew up with—”

  She stops talking, catching herself from sharing too much about herself.

  I tilt my head to the side in question. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing,” she quickly responds, waving me off, and I give her a look that screams bullshit. She lets out a long-winded sigh, and then relents. “Oh, all right, I was just going to say with the family and friends I grew up with, one had to be thick-skinned in order to survive. Otherwise, I’d be running to my room in tears all day long.” Then she waggles her finger at me. “Don’t take that the wrong way, though. I love my family.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I gently grab her hands, holding them in mine, and then step into her personal space. “Tell me something.”

  “I’ll try,” she replies nervously.

  “How is it that a young, beautiful lady such as yourself isn’t married by now?”

  “I could ask the same about you.”

  “I’m not a young, beautiful lady,” I retort, my lips twitching with mirth.

  “Oh, y
ou’re a natural comedian, aren’t you?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I try.”

  “Well then, how old are you?” she challenges, changing the subject, and I let it go for now.

  “How old do I look?” I ask with a grin.

  “Ugh, really?” she asks with mock frustration. “Okay, fine.” She lets go of my hands and crosses her arms while studying me with serious conjecture. I can tell she wants to hit the nail on the head. “Mmm…I think you’re thirty-six.”

  Both my brows rise in disbelief as I cover my heart with my hand. “Wow…that hurts. Do I really look that old?” I tease, even though she's spot on.

  She holds her stance, and with the nod of her head, she replies, “Well, I’m being generous. Actually, I was going to say forty-two.” I catch the flash of a grin before she can contain it.

  I quickly close the distance between us and do something I haven’t done in decades. I tickle the shit out her. She squeals and tries to get away, but with her heavy pack on, she loses her balance and stumbles to the ground. She’s like a turtle on its back, arms and legs flailing. I quickly slip off my pack before she can get back up, and then I straddle her to finish the job.

  “Ohmygosh! Stop!” she blathers out between breaths of laughter and distress.

  “Forty-two?” I taunt in mock disgust. “You’re gonna pay for that one.”

  I haven’t acted this carefree in years. Somehow, she seems to bring it out of me. She looks so damn beautifully full of laughter. Her smile is perfect, and her laugh is infectious. Kimber hears our commotion and comes ripping back down the path to investigate, and then, of course, she wants to join in on the fun.

  “Kimber, save me,” she cries out. Kimber saves her, all right. She helps me out by licking up one side of her face and down the other as she thrashes her head from side to side, trying to escape Kimber’s tongue. “Oh, no!” she squeals. I laugh as she tries in vain to keep my hands off her ribs and Kimber’s tongue from mauling her. “Uncle!” she screams. “I’m gonna pee myself!”

  I pause to give her a breather and settle Kimber down. “Kimber, stop. Chill out, girl.” I snap my fingers to get her attention, and she backs off instantly. Her tail wags profusely, but she listens, sitting like a good girl. She’s panting hard, and the look in her eyes says she wasn’t done playing.

  I lean my body over Lexi’s, my hands coming to rest on either side of her head. “Are you lying to me?” I question while arching a disbelieving brow. “The punishment is much more severe if I find out you’re pee fibbing.”

  With her hands covering her belly, she works on trying to catch her breath. “Pee fibbing?” she breathes with a smile. God, she’s gorgeous, especially wearing the extra camo hat I had given her earlier.

  “Yes, pee fibbing,” I state matter-of-factly. “You know the lie. It’s the one trump-card females use to get out of being tickled to death.”

  She smiles from ear to ear, and I have to refrain from leaning in and taking her lips in a heated kiss. “Yes, I’m familiar with pee fibbing. I had to play that game my entire life, especially with my older brother. But being as I hate peeing in the woods, I’m telling the truth. I’ve been procrastinating on that task for as long as possible.”

  Her ample-sized breasts catch my attention. They rise and fall as she tries to catch her breath. I fist my hands into the ground as I remind myself she is a job, only a job. I can’t make this personal, but I’m mysteriously drawn to her, and I want to kiss her again. I’ve never allowed myself to spend time with a female outside of the bedroom, but I can’t help but enjoy being around her. None of the women I’ve ever been with are anything like Lexi. Maybe subconsciously, I’ve avoided her type all along. It’s easy to push the shallower females out the door the next morning.

  I’m lost in her brown, flecked eyes when her hands come to rest on my pectorals, pulling me from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” she softly whispers. The air between us changes, turning into something more. “Where’d you go?”

  What do I say? I’ve only known you for a couple days, and I don’t think you’re a killer? I want to kiss you like I did that first morning, even though you’re pregnant with somebody else’s baby. How fucked up is that? “I’m thinking of that kiss we shared our first morning,” I huskily whisper the half-truth over her lips.

  “Oh,” she breathes out, instantly sobering from her joviality. When she bites her lower lip, I reach down and gently disengage it with my thumb.

  “Define your ‘oh’,” I challenge, and watch as her breathing pattern changes.

  “Yeah, it was nice,” she exhales.

  “Just nice?” I counter. “Maybe I didn’t do it right then,” I rasp in a deep undertone, wanting a second chance at those lips.

  She swallows hard, and I smirk, knowing I'm affecting her. I’m glad I’m not the only one feeling this electricity. “Oh, you did it right, all right,” she breathes, and I suppress a grin at her response. Her frankness is turning me on. I'm glad she's ‘fessing up, confirming my suspicions.

  “So what about you?” she softly asks.

  “What about me?” I ask, her question confusing me.

  “Do you have a significant other?”

  I absent-mindedly chuckle at the thought. “Hell, no. I don’t do relationships.”

  She nods her head and then looks away—in what? Disappointment? I can't tell, but the heated moment is gone just that fast. I’d be a liar if I told her otherwise, just so I could steal a kiss from her.

  I push off the ground, getting off of her, and then hold out my hands in a crisscross pattern to help her up. She appears to force a smile, but I can tell it’s strained. She crisscrosses her arms while extending them, placing her hands into mine, allowing me to help her. I pull her up off the ground, and then tug her into my chest in one swift motion. I let go of her hands, and then quickly wrap my arms around her body, trapping her against me.

  “Don’t take that personally. This is the longest amount of time I’ve spent with a woman, and right now, I’m liking it. I'm liking you. This is new to me…very new,” I admit.

  She looks at me oddly for a moment, and then asks with skepticism, “You mean to tell me you’ve never spent more than forty-eight hours with a woman before?”

  “Just one,” I answer her in all seriousness. “My mother.”

  “Wow,” she responds in a perplexed tone. “I can certainly see where this would be a new adventure for you.”

  “Yeah, that it is.”

  Being forthcoming and blatantly honest about my feelings tends to get me into trouble with women, because they'll only want more from me, so I have no idea why the hell I’m telling her this. Unless I’m working undercover, I’ve always hid my thoughts and feelings, but she's affecting me in ways I’ve never felt before. I don’t understand it. Usually I’d have those women out the front door within the first eight hours of meeting them, but I can’t rightly do that now, can I?

  Despite my explanation, I can tell her mood has turned solemn, so I try to break the tension. “Do I need to sic Kimber on you again?” I teasingly warn.

  “No,” she retorts with a smile and shakes her head at the memory, “definitely not.”

  Without a second thought, I tenderly push aside her ponytail, lean in, and kiss her softly on the cheek, allowing my lips to linger on her skin. I swear I feel her entire body shudder. “C’mon, Angel,” I whisper near her ear. “There’s a surprise up ahead I want to show you.”

  I step back and let her go, watching her reaction to my closeness. She swallows hard and slightly sways. I internally smile to myself, because I don't think it will be long before we'll be caving in to our mutual desires. I shake my head free of the lustful thoughts, disgusted with myself for thinking these things. Maybe I just need to jack off somewhere, and then I’ll be good to go.

  I turn around and get my backpack on, getting back to business.

  “So,” she begins from behind me, “was I right?”

  �
��You were close enough.”

  “What? You’re not going to tell me?” She sounds put out, offended.

  I look back over my shoulder and tell her, “I’m as old as you want me to be.”

  “Seriously?” she huffs.

  I give her a quick wink as I buckle my backpack strap around my waist. “I’d like to keep you guessing for a while.”

  “Ugh,” she gripes, stomping her foot, and Kimber looks at me, tilting her head in such a way, wondering whether or not I’m the troublemaker.

  The one thing I haven't told her since our first night together is the possibility of running into a black bear or a bobcat is fairly high this time of year. Simply because it’s springtime. I know she’d shit herself if she merely caught a glimpse of a bear in the wild.

  Earlier, I had noticed a point of interest on the map that was close by, and I thought it would be a nice surprise if we hiked there. We’ve been descending down the trail for quite some time, and I know we’re close, because I can detect the moisture change in the air. We’ve already crossed over many little streams, and watching Lexi’s reaction to the different scenery has been priceless.

  Five more minutes of hiking, and I can hear the waterfall before I see it. We make our way around a few enormous boulders laden with overgrown moss, and stumble upon Doyles River Waterfall.

  Alexis lets out a gasp behind me. “Oh, wow, this is simply amazing.” I turn around and smile at her reaction. “Such a peaceful setting with the water filtering around the rocks and trees. It's so picturesque.” Her eyes glisten with excitement as she takes it all in, spinning around in a circle.

  I step forward and help ease her out of her backpack. “You like?”

  She flicks her eyes from the waterfall to mine, her voice filled with excitement. “Like? No…I love it.” She wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes me tightly. “Thank you.”