angel. She nearly sagged to the ground in relief. He handled the man—both of them—as if, well, he really was in the security business. His swift, compact movements left little doubt that he could’ve put an end to it even quicker. As if he was merely toying with them.
She’d never doubt him again.
The two men hadn’t put up a fight as Wyatt and Evan helped them back to the campsite. Grace was just glad to see them leaving.
The truck started with a roar and began rolling away. There was a flash of movement from the driver’s side as Evan waved. She waved back. He’d obviously felt terrible about what his friends had done.
Grace’s eyes slid to Wyatt as he returned to their site, no more than a stealth shadow moving in the night.
“Are you all right?” She thought he’d only taken the one sucker punch to the gut. But it had been dark, and everything had happened so fast.
“That’s my line. Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Grace absently rubbed her arm. “You showed up just in time.”
Wyatt sank onto the log beside her. “Sorry I let him slip past me. That was sloppy.”
Grace blinked at him. He acted as if her safety was his job. And from where she was sitting it looked like he’d handled the situation like a pro.
“Are you kidding me? You saved my life back there. Or at least my virtue.” She shuddered at the thought.
“You managed pretty well yourself.”
“He was really strong.” She’d felt so trapped against his chest. But then she remembered her contribution at the end and breathed a laugh. “I’m just glad I didn’t kill the other guy. That was a heavy rock.”
“We made a good team.”
He obviously could’ve handled things fine without her, but it was nice of him to give her credit.
“We’ll need to report this when we get back to town.”
She didn’t want those guys victimizing another woman. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Silence settled around them for a long moment.
Then she voiced the question that had been rolling around her head since the second guy showed up. “Why didn’t you draw your gun back there?”
“They weren’t carrying, and I knew I could handle them.”
“All of them?”
He hitched a shoulder. “If necessary. Come on, two of them were drunk.”
“How’d you know they weren’t carrying?”
“There are tells.”
“Such as?”
“Bulges under the clothing. Security checks—little touches or adjustments to the gun when they move around. A sagging pocket. Lots of things.”
Grace shook her head, staring long and hard at him. “Who are you, Wyatt Jennings?”
* * *
Wyatt put her question on hold long enough to pull his jacket from his backpack and settle it over Grace’s shoulders. She’d been shaking since back at the creek. Probably from shock, but there was also a nip in the air.
He grabbed a few logs and laid them carefully on the fire, then sat back down, still considering her question. For the first time ever he found himself wanting to open up to someone. Wanting to spill all his secrets. Tell her he was damaged and troubled and that his job, while extremely rewarding, had lately stressed him to the breaking point.
He wanted to tell her that while he liked being alone, he was lonely. Hungry for the kind of intimacy he’d never shared with another. That he’d been most loved by his mother, but she was gone and he hadn’t felt quite the same since.
But Grace was young and innocent, and their relationship—strictly business—was only temporary.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said when the silence stretched out too long. “I can tell you like your privacy.”
The fire snapped and popped, the new wood catching the flames. The smell of wood smoke scented the air.
Grace snuggled into the jacket. “And I take back all the bad things I said about you.”
He arched a brow. “What bad things?”
“Okay, maybe they were just thoughts.”
“You going to enlighten me?”
She deliberated for a moment, rubbing her lips together, a frown popping out on her forehead. “No. Definitely not.”
“I save your life and virtue and don’t get to know a thought or two?”
“Some things are best left unsaid. Besides,” she said saucily, “if you get your privacy, I get mine too.”
He considered that. “Disappointing, but fair.”
“Unless . . .”
The fire bathed her in a soft golden light. Man, she was a pretty woman. He wished, just for a moment, that he lived in Bluebell. That he wasn’t so far past her in age and experience. That he was toting a little less