was in going to class and making sure his parents’ money was well spent. It wasn’t until she went to work for her father that she came to realize the true meaning of life, which, as far as she could figure, was about living each day to its fullest and helping your fellow man along the way as best you could.
“Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” She gave Rick a self-deprecating smile.
“Why?” He frowned.
“Well, because you’re a park ranger, not a commando. Yet here you are on guard duty with a machine gun in hand.”
“Says the oil heiress who swam through an underwater tunnel and withstood two standoffs at gunpoint.”
“Touché.” Her smile turned genuine.
Of course, it dimmed a bit when she saw that look come over his face again. Not wanting to give him the wrong idea, she shook her head and said, “Well…I guess I better finish my rounds and check on Bran.”
Rick’s expression fell. “I’m sure he’s fine. After all, he is a commando.”
“All the same,” she said, skirting by Rick and giving his arm a companionable squeeze along the way. With that one touch, she hoped to convey her thanks for all he had done and at the same time let him know that friendship is all that would, all that could, ever be between them.
She didn’t check his expression to see if it worked—not really wanting to know if it didn’t—and instead turned her gaze to Bran. He was leaning against the side of the lighthouse, one knee bent to take the weight off his wounded leg, his arms crossed over his spectacularly bare chest. He’d stopped to grab one of the sleeping bags off the beach. It was folded in half and acting as a pallet for his mean-looking rifle and the rifles of the two men who were stranded out on their fishing boat somewhere. The starlight reflecting off the surrounding waves seemed to make love to his skin, kissing it and caressing it in undulating patterns until it looked alive and healthy and vibrant. And the medallion he wore around his neck caught the moonlight and glinted, a beacon calling her to him.
Triple threat indeed, she thought as she picked her way toward Bran. The ground atop the fort walls was uneven. The years had deposited sand and soil over the bricks, allowing grass and a few sticker bushes to take hold and grow.
On the subject of sticker bushes…
She had one stuck in the base of her thumb. Well, not a sticker. A splinter. The irritating little foreigner burned and itched, and she absently tried squeezing it out. But that only seemed to anger the thing.
Then the last thing she was thinking about was her impaled hand. Because suddenly, she was standing in front of Bran, and there was a warm, wicked gleam in his eyes when he turned away from the sea. It punched the breath right out of her.
It really should be illegal.
Chapter 15
9:04 p.m.…
“The girls okay?” Bran asked.
“Full of piss and vinegar,” Maddy managed, disgusted at how breathless her voice sounded.
“They are quite the trio.” A lock of hair fell over his brow, but he didn’t brush it back. Just stood there looking big and hot and completely, quintessentially male. She tucked her hands into her pockets to keep from touching him.
“So, now that we’re alone,” he said, getting right to it, “there’s something I wanna talk to you about.”
Here it comes.
He rolled in his lips, hesitating, then, “I owe you a blanket apology for…a lot of things. But mostly for giving you the wrong impression about me.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “About us.”
His words might have cut into her like knives had she not just had that conversation with the girls. Now she was armed with rope and was determined to give him just enough to hang himself.
“And what impression would that be?” she asked curiously.
“That we’re more than just—”
“Pen pals?” she finished for him, batting her lashes.
He pulled a face. “Okay. So that was a total asshole thing to say.”
“Total asshole,” she agreed.
“And you’ve already proved your point. No need to keep busting my balls.”
“Aw, shucks.” She pouted playfully. “And here ball-bustin’ is one of my favorite pastimes.”
He grinned. Then the light in his eyes dimmed, like dark clouds suddenly boiling across a sunny sky. “I shoulda told Ranger Rick the Prick the truth. I shoulda told him we’re friends. I mean, I—”
“I’m sorry.” She cut him off and cocked her head.