the fire, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes when he told her. “I told you last night that my mom died . . .”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well, she died out here. In the mountains.” For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to say murder.
Her body stiffened subtly. He could feel her gaze burning into the side of his face. But still she said nothing.
“I guess I want a little closure.”
“Were you camping with her when it happened?”
“Yes.” She was fishing for more information, but he’d kept the details under lock and key so long, he wasn’t eager to let them out just yet.
“I’ll help you any way I can. There’s plenty of ground we haven’t covered—those other creeks. We’ll find it.”
He looked at her finally, relieved to find no pity in her eyes. Only concern and hope. He grabbed on to the hope like a lifeline. “I appreciate that. You’ve been a real trouper.”
She shrugged away the compliment. “Hey, this is what I do.”
“You’re one of a kind, Grace. I hope you know that.”
Her eyes lit, her lips lifting just a little, enough for him to know his words had pleased her. The responding heady rush of pleasure made him want to say or do something else to provoke a real smile. A laugh. A touch.
Somehow during the course of their conversation, they’d shifted closer together, and his hand was almost touching her shoulder. His finger itched to trace a path down her arm. How would she react?
His self-control held out as the silence lengthened between them.
Her gaze fell to his lips.
His heart rate increased, his breaths grew shallow. Temptation crowded out his better intentions. Just one kiss. One taste. He wouldn’t take it any further.
But no. It would be a mistake. It would hurt her in the long run. He made himself tear his gaze away. Pulled his elbows from the table, feeling the painful stretch of his deltoid where the bullet had penetrated.
He absently rotated his shoulder. He hated that the silence had grown awkward but didn’t know what to do about it.
Grace took care of it for him. “How—how’s your injury holding up?”
He stretched it, hoping he hadn’t set himself back the past few days. “It’s fine. Just a little tight.”
The rain pattered on the rooftop. The thunder and lightning seemed to have moved on for now. Their meager supply of firewood wouldn’t last much longer.
“Maybe we should go ahead and turn in.” He stood slowly. “Get started at first light.”
“Sounds good.” Grace stood too, surveying their sleeping quarters. “Why don’t we turn the table on its side and use it to block the wind?”
“Good idea.” They worked in tandem to clear out the spot in front of the hearth. The fire wouldn’t last long, but the wall itself was a good buffer.
He laid her sleeping bag closest to the fire, a safe distance away, then he rolled his out beside hers—also a safe distance away. He added a few more sticks to the fire as she wriggled into her bag, pulling her backpack close to use as a pillow.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” He lay atop his own sleeping bag, propping his head on his pack. “You think the creek will be down?”
“Not if this rain keeps up. We’ll backtrack a little and take that road I told you about. It might take all day, but if we get an early start, we’ll make it home by nightfall.”
The night beyond the circle of the fire was dark and quiet except for the drumming of rain. Wyatt closed his eyes, but he was wired from their conversation. From the look of want on Grace’s face. From the tempting way she’d licked her lips. If he had an ounce less self-discipline, he would’ve tasted that mouth.
She wanted to help him, and he was tempted to let her. Tempted to let her do far more than he should. But future trips with Grace weren’t a good idea. Even he had his limits.
Even with his eyes closed he was sensitive to every sound she made. The quiet rustling of her sleeping bag when she shifted. Every little sigh. But as the minutes wore on those sounds slowed and then stopped altogether.
He checked on her and watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. The feathery shadow of her lashes against her cheeks. He felt gratified somehow that she was at rest.
She was having better luck than he was. It was hard to sleep when he knew