Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
I’m about to ask Talia a smartass question, but she lets out a strangled sound and darts past, grabbing at a pair of panties made of the most translucent, sheer pink net I’ve ever seen, with delicately embroidered lace edging.
The bra matches. So do the stockings when they vanish into her clutched fists, so flimsy they disappear into nothing past her fingers.
I’m not fucking breathing anymore.
I’m trying not to stare.
But goddamn, you mean to tell me that’s the underwear she packed for a camping trip?
That’s her style?
Makes me wonder what I glimpsed past her flannel and what other little secrets this shy girl keeps locked up. If there’s more fire under her fluttering and nervousness than I realized.
Not your business, man. Focus on the mission.
Not on the drumming in my pulse and the reckless throb of my cock taking an interest in things I’ve got no right to.
Outwardly, I’m a perfect gentleman, averting my eyes from her brilliantly red face while I unzip one of the side pouches on the bag and hold it open for her.
Her fingers brush mine, all warmth and softness, as she stuffs her garments inside, fumbling my hand aside so she can zip up.
After the soft rasp of the zipper stops, she pulls back, her warmth leaving my side while she mumbles, “…sorry. You didn’t have to see that.”
“Didn’t see a thing,” I growl. “Nothing besides this thirty-pack of D batteries.” I heft the big brick of boxed batteries out of the bottom, followed by a six-pack of flashlights. “You had the right idea. You just overpacked.”
“I just kept thinking, what if we lost things? What if we needed backups?”
“Miss Talia, with everything in your pack, if you lost one thing, you’d lose everything, so having this many spares wouldn’t do you much good. Better to lighten the load.” I toss two of the flashlights back on top of her folded clothes, then steal one of the battery packs from inside the box. I pick up the parka, too, twisting my lips. “You don’t have a thinner jacket?”
“At home?” she offers. “I just thought—you know…”
“Hypothermia,” I guess. “This time of year, it’s not a big concern unless you fall down in a river after dark.” I start to toss the parka back down—then stop and hold it out to Rolf, letting him sniff. “Here, boy. Get used to her.”
Rolf prods his nose at the parka.
He snorts and shakes his head roughly before backing up to settle on his haunches, giving me a disgusted look.
Talia lets out a disappointed laugh. “He’s never going to like me, is he?”
“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.”