“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“For what?”
Brayden sounded genuinely puzzled, and when Reggie lifted her eyes, she saw that his expression matched his tone. Those caramel irises of his were fixed on her and narrowed a little in a confused squint. And a laugh won out. A little giggle—maybe a touch hysterical—escaped her lips.
“Are you serious?” she wondered out loud.
“Yes?”
The unsure reply made her laugh a second time. “You saved me from Chuck. You took me back to the diner when I asked you to. And when I realized your name wasn’t Max, I assumed you were lying to me and I ran off like a crazy person. But you’re asking what I’m sorry for?”
A small smile tipped up his lips, but his eyes tightened. “You’re not crazy. You were in a stressful situation. Are in one. I’d rather have skipped the nighttime jog through the woods, but I get why you ran. No need to apologize.”
“I’m still sorry,” she replied.
“Well, then. You’re forgiven.”
“Thanks.”
He stared down at her for several long moments, his face unreadable. What was going through his head? Reggie thought maybe he wanted to add something else. His mouth twitched as though he was holding back. And she had a strange urge to coax whatever it was out of him. To reach up and touch his cheek and tell him he could share whatever he wanted to share, and it would be just fine with her.
Seconds later, she was startled to find her hand had lifted. Her fingers brushed the edge of his jaw, tingling as they followed its strong line. It wasn’t quite smooth, but it wasn’t quite rough, either. Reggie wondered if he’d shaved that morning. Very abruptly, a vision of that filled her head. Brayden in front of the mirror with a straight razor in his hands. Lathered up in shaving cream, and wrapped in a towel.
With an embarrassed gasp, she dropped her fingers. But his palm came out to stop them from falling away completely. He cupped the back of her hand with his own and brought it up to his lips. He placed a swift kiss right in the center.
Heat—searing and nearly shocking—slammed into the skin there. It didn’t bloom out the way his other, inadvertent touches had. Instead, it clung to that one spot. Like a tattoo. Or maybe a brand. She closed her fingers around the feeling, savoring it, even though she couldn’t quite say why she felt the need.
Then Reggie dragged her eyes up to meet Brayden’s. He looked as surprised as she felt. But he didn’t say a word. He just shifted on the boulder, cradled her to his body once more, then stood up and started to walk.
Brayden cursed himself for giving in to a rare moment of spontaneous emotion. Though giving in implied he’d done it consciously. The move had been pure instinct. The impulsive seizure of a moment. Not something he’d consider doing under normal circumstances.
And for your moment, you chose a kiss on her hand? Really, Maxwell? When her mouth was just as close?
But he couldn’t deny the impact of the small gesture. He could still taste her salty, dust-covered palm. Still feel the coolness of it on his lips. It was a sharp contrast to the warmth everywhere else their bodies had touched. Continued to touch. It dulled some—if not all—of his irritation at her sudden flight and brought him back to his typically patient self.
“M—er, Brayden?”
“Mmph,” he mumbled back.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way?”
“Nope.”
“I came in from the other direction.”
“Yeah. And you kind of ran in a circle.”
“I did?”
“That’s how I managed to catch up with you,” he said, grateful for the distracting conversation. “Took me about ninety seconds to figure out you were too smart to head right back into town. Went back to the house to get a flashlight so I could search for you, and I heard you crashing around above the cabins.”
“Crap.”
“Yep.”
“I guess I’m not very experienced at running and hiding.”
“That’s a good thing. Most of the time anyway.”
Brayden pushed through the last thick patch of trees. The far-range, motion-detection light came on immediately, illuminating the rear of his rented cabin.
“See?” he said. “Here we are.”
Reggie blinked at the light. “Wow. I’m not just bad at running away. I’m terrible.”
Brayden couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d tell you it takes some practice, but that probably wouldn’t be very reassuring.”
“Definitely not.”
He moved quickly from the back of the cabin to the front, where he paused at the bottom on the stairs and asked teasingly, “You ready to be carried over the threshold?”
Even in the dim light, he could see the color bloom in her cheeks. “I could try walking.”
He glanced down at her dirty, battered-looking feet. “Might be better not to. Unless you want to add splinter removal to my list of first aid duties. And call me crazy, but I think checking you over for a concussion and tending to those cuts is probably enough of a first aid order for one night, don’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh.”
“What?”
“Now I can’t insist on being independent without making it seem like I’m trying to create more work for you.”
“I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.”
“Fine. Carry away.”
Grinning to himself, he took the steps quickly, then paused at the door and adjusted so he could drag out his key. He held her tightly all the way into the house, not releasing her until he’d flicked on the lights in the rustic cabin and made his way through the country-style kitchen into the living room. There, he settled her onto the love seat and took a step back.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“Not too bad.”
“Still dizzy?”
“Just a bit,” she admitted. “Mostly when I move quickly.”
“Like when you run through the woods barefoot?”
“Funny.”
“I thought so. Any nausea?”
“No.”
“All right. Close your eyes, count to thirty, then open them and look up at the light.”
“Okay.”
She dropped her lids, but when Brayden moved closer and positioned himself over her, her eyes flew open again immediately.
“I don’t think you counted to ten, let alone thirty,” he said.
Reggie blinked. “Uh. No.”
“Makes it a little harder to check your reactivity to light.”
“Oh.”
“Wanna try again?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes a second time, and Brayden counted the seconds off in his head. One for every rise and fall of her chest. He was hyperconscious of their physical closeness. Every breath brought