What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,61
it seemed like going around and spraying trees with fluorescent paint wasn’t a good thing, especially if you’re hunting on someone else’s land.”
Zappa had the cutest laugh, a heheheheh sound. “You’d be right. But there are ways.”
“There’s chalk—even reflective chalk which will wash away within a day or so.” Guzman pulled at his beard. “I like reflective tacks. Or…if it’s somewhere I prefer to keep hidden, I use a clear reflective trail marking spray. Can’t be seen in the daytime.”
Clear? Now that had possibilities. She smiled at them. “I knew there must be a way. Thank you.” She smiled at them. “I might have to use one to find my picnic table in the dark, huh?”
As they laughed, she waved and dashed to her car.
One trip to the sporting goods store coming up in the morning.
Chapter Fourteen
Your enemy is never a villain in his own eyes. Keep this in mind; it may offer a way to make him your friend. If not, you can kill him without hate—and quickly. ~ Robert A. Heinlein
Bull could hear the hum of the refrigeration units as he gave the counter surfaces the old “white glove” treatment. Not a trace of grease or dirt. Good work, cleaning crew. Might be time to hand out some bonuses.
The sound of gravel crunching and a car engine came from the rear parking lot. The little New Yorker was here.
The anticipation of seeing her made his temperature rise and muscles tense, rather like hearing a call to arms.
Fuck, he had it bad. When first dating Paisley, had he felt this way? He’d thought he loved her, but he’d loved a person who didn’t exist. People put their best foot forward when dating—that was human nature. But, in Paisley’s case, the façade concealed someone totally different.
He had to wonder if his brothers would’ve seen her more clearly. Only Hawk had met her, just for a few minutes. He’d been headed back to the mercenaries. Gabe, in the same merc unit, had been overseas, and Caz’d been doing volunteer health care in South America.
Paisley’d presented herself as being honest and loyal, a person who believed in service to others. Hardly. She’d implied that she volunteered her time at a hospital. Turned out her only time in a hospital was to have her appendix removed.
Now, much wiser, he could see the red flags he’d missed. Including the one where she’d pushed for marrying so hastily.
Now, here was Frankie. Her past—and reason for being in Rescue—was a mystery. Yet…unlike with Paisley, he’d seen Frankie when she was stressed and in pain. After being shot. Harassed at the roadhouse. She’d handled herself in a way he could respect.
She had a temper, oh, yeah. She’d also given him quite a few cold looks in the beginning—because she thought he’d crushed someone’s feelings. That spoke of a compassionate heart.
Her sense of humor and ability to laugh at herself matched his. She had the determination to work out hard enough and long enough to be damn good at aikido.
Whenever Gryff was around, she was petting him—and the dog adored her.
Maybe he didn’t have the whole story, but he was certain of her character. Over the past few days, they’d been together a lot. They’d meet in the park, work out, return to her cabin for a different kind of workout, and then cook breakfast—or sometimes lunch—together.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t talk her into spending nights together. She was holding firm on the casual, not-a-relationship stance. Stubborn woman.
She was going to find he was an equally stubborn man.
As he strolled out the back door, she was opening the trunk of her small Toyota rental. He shook his head. “Your car is too low for our gravel roads.”
“I don’t drive around much. Here, can you carry these?” She handed him two grocery sacks, took two for herself, and slammed the trunk.
Didn’t drive much? She hadn’t talked about visiting any tourist traps, had she?
He followed her inside, enjoying the mesmerizing sway of her ass. Hell of a body.
Hell of a mind.
And he still had questions about why she was in Alaska by herself. She wasn’t typical of those intrigued by the frontier life. Hadn’t arrived with a boyfriend. Wasn’t one of the youngsters who were traveling for the hell of it. That type usually grabbed a job at the resort or in Anchorage.
No, she’d picked a tiny town named Rescue.
In the kitchen, she started water to boil and pulled out a sauté pan.