Chapter 6
James Hyatt
I checked my watch and cursed.
I’d said I’d be back within two hours, and now I wasn’t sure I was ready.
It was her fucking fault. She’d made freeze-dried food taste good. She’d stood there this morning wearing my hoodie and probably just underwear, and she’d served me breakfast in bed with a stunning smile on her face.
And I wasn’t one of those fuckers who claimed that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
I’d spent my whole goddamn life learning to settle for MREs and meal bars.
I didn’t care all that much about food, full stop.
I had two vices; I loved cashews and churros. Basically, everything else was fine.
This pheasant was also going to be fine.
I grunted as I climbed higher up the slope and estimated I had roughly thirty minutes left of sanity. Thirty minutes until I was back at camp and had to watch her read or sunbathe or wash clothes or clear the helipad of pebbles.
Tomorrow, I’d pack for half a day in the valley. I’d catch us some fish and screw my head on right.
To be quite fucking honest, the thought of Kiera being interested in me didn’t feel too farfetched.
She was extremely nice and caregiving, bordering on flirty at times, but that made shit worse.
Because then it was up to me to be the good guy.
She was going home to find a husband to knock her up, and I was…
never gonna be that guy. Having kids had entered my mind briefly in my thirties, and sure, there was that part of me that’d wanted the traditions, the wife, the kid I could play catch with.
But one look at my job…? All those thoughts flew out the window.
The past twenty-five years, I’d spent roughly two hundred days a year out of the country, without any guarantee of ever coming home.
Granted, it was a lot less these days. I flew quick missions, one week here, another there, maybe half a dozen times a year, but even so.
And hell, at my age? Come on. My blood pressure may be perfect, but my knees popped like firecrackers when I’d been too still for a longer period of time, and if I slept uncomfortably, I paid for it the following day.
I stopped to catch my breath, and I looked out over the valley below.
How many missions had I flown in this terrain?
I remembered an era when these mountains had been filled with different worlds colliding. Local farmers, various ethnic groups, refugees getting lost in their desperate hope to reach the border, US Special Forces doing recon, our operators scouting and waiting…
I heaved a breath and lifted my tee to wipe sweat off my face.
“He said it was time, and that he was the luckiest bastard on earth for having been blessed with three big loves. Me, my mom, and his white rocket.”
Perhaps the reason I was reluctant to quit fieldwork wasn’t because I loved this more than anything. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a fucking clue about what came next. I didn’t have three big loves of my life. I had work.
I was getting too old for the game, though. Sooner rather than later, I had to surrender my proverbial wings and get comfortable as the head of drone defense. That was going to be my full-time project. I’d come into the office in the morning, and I’d leave in the afternoon and go home again.
Kiera was reading one of my books when I returned, and I was guessing that my mood halted her from jumping into a conversation. She didn’t even ask if I had any update from her dad.
I dropped the pheasant by the firepit close to where she sat, grabbed my toiletry kit and a pair of skivvies inside, then muttered that I was gonna go wash off.
I practically felt her confusion as I walked away. Probably her concern too. She was definitely the type of woman who worried about others.
She was kind.
She’d have no trouble meeting some dream guy who’d buy her a minivan. Maybe he’d coach little league. Maybe he’d play golf on the weekends.
Maybe he’d choke on a fucking golf ball.
Some fifty feet past the helipad, I reached the stream that rushed water down the mountainside. Crystal clear and supposedly clean, though I always boiled the water I drank and used for cooking.
I stripped down to my boxer briefs and braced myself for the cold, and then I stepped down on the one sandy surface I knew was safe and wouldn’t set off a landslide or send me tumbling down the slope. I sucked in a breath before I leaned in and dunked my head in the rush.
I made quick work of soaping up. Jaw clenched, balls trying to crawl up inside my body, all while the afternoon sun shone on my back.
Looking over toward our camp, I deduced Kiera wasn’t going to come near anytime soon, so I lost the underwear too. I could barely spell modesty, but I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable.
Fuck me sideways, this was too much. I rinsed off as fast as I could before I stepped out of the water.
New boxer briefs on, before I toweled off with a tiny washcloth. Last but not least, deodorant.
Now I was hungry.
The frigid water had helped.
I stuck my feet into my boots and rolled up my clothes under my arm, then returned to camp.
Kiera looked up from the book with concern in her eyes.
“Are you okay, James?”
“Yeah, uh…just a rough hike,” I bullshitted. “I’mma grab something to eat.”
“Way ahead of you. I have a loaf of bread coming out soon, and there’s chicken stew simmering on the stove.” She snuck by me and scurried inside. “I used one of the cans and added more ingredients.”
I side-eyed her as she checked on the food, and I felt the need to get out of here again. This girl was stirring up shit inside me that I didn’t wanna deal with.
I placed my clothes next to my backpack and kicked off my boots.
“This needs a few more minutes,” she announced. “Sit down and get warm. It took me ten minutes to stop shaking after I showered.” Her hair was still damp. She side-eyed me right back and smirked a little. “Maybe put on some clothes. You don’t wanna get pneumonia.”
I had that one coming.
But I wasn’t in a joking mood.
As I stared at her, pressure built up in my chest, and it stripped me of my armor.
She stood there in my hoodie, legs toned and smooth…
Smooth enough for me to assume she’d used my shaving kit.
Christ, even her feet were cute. What was wrong with me?
What was wrong with her? She was up to something, wasn’t she?
She didn’t have to cater to my every fucking need. She wasn’t a servant.
I felt my jaw tick with tension, and the atmosphere changed around us.
“What’re you doing, Kiera?” I asked quietly.
For a quick second, I saw confusion flit by, followed by a flicker of vulnerability, before curiosity took over.
“Can’t you tell?” she asked back. “Something is obviously going on with you, so I’m overcompensating to make sure you’re comfortable.”
I wasn’t comfortable one fucking bit. If anything, it felt like I was about to blow.
Did she feel how charged everything suddenly was? Was that why she was taking a step closer?
“It’s not working.” I tensed up when she was within reach.
She fucking knew what she was doing to me. She showed no fear or apprehension. Instead, all I saw was wonderment and compassion…and heat. My fucking God, she was intoxicatingly beautiful.
“Should I try something else?” she murmured.
I swallowed, unable to respond—not that I had the faintest idea of how to answer anyway—and watched her lift a hand to slowly ghost it up my stomach.
She wasn’t done. “I’d imagine you have a lot on your shoulders. Is it weird that I want to make things easier for you?”
Oh, but she wasn’t making things easy. Not by a mile.
She brushed her hand over a faint scar on my chest, and I was quickly reaching my limit. The sensation from just her fingers shot desire through me so forcefully that if she didn’t stop right now, I’d end up fucking her into oblivion.
Goose bumps appeared wherever she touched me, and I felt my chest rise and fall more rapidly.
When she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, I was done for.
In a swift movement, I pulled her flush to my body, cupped her cheek, and dipped down and covered her mouth with my own.
The sheer lust that flooded me was damn near overwhelming.
I’d watched those pouty lips for two days now, and I’d fucking had it.
A needy little sound escaped her, and she pressed herself impossibly closer and locked her arms around my neck.
Fuck yes.
I gripped her hips, only to slip my hands under the hoodie and finally feel her skin along the soft curve of her spine, but it wasn’t enough.
When she deepened the kiss and I got to taste her properly, there was no more holding back.
Not for her either. We kissed hungrily, and I palmed her perfect ass and squeezed her to me.
She moaned and snaked her tongue against mine, then hitched a leg over my hip. I went with it, hoisted her higher, and pushed her up against the wall.
“Yes,” she gasped.
As I wrapped her legs around me, I pressed my cock against her and earned myself another needy little whimper. The girl was eager and fucking shameless, and it turned me on beyond belief.
“This needs to come off.” I tugged at the hoodie.
She nodded quickly, and I inched back enough so she could haul it over her head.
I swallowed dryly and took in the sight of her in the low light. But I could eye-fuck her more later, when the flimsy little top was off too. I needed to fucking inhale her at this point. I kissed her again—
“Wait,” she said, out of breath. “One second. I gotta…” She panted and slid down, her feet back on the ground, and she scrambled over to the oven.
I took a breath and scrubbed a hand over my jaw.
Within seconds, she’d taken out the bread and placed the stew away from the heat. Then she was back, and she nudged me toward the bed until I sat down on the edge. She followed, straddling me, and kissed me once more.
Goddamn.