“Now, unless you want to tell me where the Trojan camp is—”
“Templar,” he corrected.
Her head tilted and she cut off midstream. “Templar. That’s right. You know where it is?”
He gave her a brief nod, enjoying the way she bared her teeth in frustration at his affirmation.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I tried.”
“No, you came here and told me I looked like a hideous beast and then said you were here to rescue me—”
“That’s not what I said—”
“So you’ll forgive me if I don’t take too kindly to being told I’m not only ugly, but I’m helpless and stupid because I’m female,” she bit out. “Now are you going to help me or not?”
Not, he wanted to say, but he noticed her full lower lip was quivering with cold.
“You want the Templar camp?” he asked, voice short.
“Yes, I do.”
“Follow me,” he said, and turned around, walking past her back to the direction of the camp. He’d actually found it a half hour ago—she’d more or less wandered right past it—but he hadn’t felt the need to point it out to her. If she’d have looked up, she’d probably have seen the crude tree houses that made up the camp.
But she hadn’t looked up. And she hadn’t had a flashlight, either. She’d been wandering the woods, cold and alone and not terrified in the slightest. Instead, she was determined to find her sister.
He had to admire that, even if he didn’t like her much.
Colt led the way through the brush. He hadn’t heard one complaint out of her mouth just yet, something he had respect for. People that got out in the wild and complained that it was wet and muddy were idiots in his book.
After about ten minutes of pushing through the trees and mud, Colt spotted one of the shacklike tree houses above. He turned back to Beth Ann, who was close on his heels. “We’re here.”
“Here?” She frowned and pushed past him, staring up at the trees and the tree houses, and then the scatter of discarded camping equipment at the base of the trunks. Folding camping chairs circled around the long-dead firepit, which was now nothing more than a dirty puddle on the ground. “It’s deserted.”
“Yeah.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Evacuated.”
Her confused expression focused back on him. “Evacuated? From the camp? By who?”
“Volunteer Emergency Services.” He pointed at the patch on his sleeve. “Like me.”
She stared at him, astonished. Her mascara-rimmed eyes were wide. “They’re not here,” she repeated. “Is anyone here?”
He pointed at her, then pointed at himself, enjoying her astonished expression a little too much, though he kept his poker face on.
She thought for a minute, then stared back at the deserted, washed-out campsite. “And Lucy went with them? Where’d they go?”
“Nearby motel,” Colt said. “It’s under construction but the owner’s letting them all stay the night until the cars can be towed.”
One delicately arched eyebrow went up. “How long have you known that they’re gone?”
He kept his face smooth. “’Bout two hours.”
THREE
He waited for the explosion. The show of nasty temper. For her to snap and berate him. Call him a piece of shit for keeping her out here.
Instead, she stared thoughtfully at the campground, then back at him. “I suppose you were going to leave me out here until I stopped raging about how I could save myself?”
“The thought occurred to me,” he said dryly.
She stared at the trees, then back at him. “Only two hours? My tirade didn’t make you madder than that?”
He didn’t know what to think of her humor. “Are you aware of how pitiful you look?”
Beth Ann’s hands flew to her face and she wiped at her cheek, smearing mud across it self-consciously. She stared into the woods, then back at him. “You’re really here to rescue me, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“And I was pretty nasty to you, wasn’t I?”
“You were.” Though he had said the thing about the horror movie. He just hadn’t meant it in the way she’d taken it.
“Miranda and Dane didn’t send you?”
“Nope.”
She grimaced. “Fiddlesticks.” She glanced back over at him, wiped another wet lock of hair off of her brow. And sighed. “I’ve had a bad night. I thought you were…never mind.” Beth Ann sighed and tilted her face back, letting the rain splatter on her cheeks. After a long moment, she said, “My life seems to be full of men trying to save me from myself, and I took it out on you. Sorry about that.”
An apology from Beth Ann Williamson was not exactly what he expected. “No worries.”
“I guess I deserved this.” She gestured at the wet, sludgy forest. And she laughed. “Beth Ann Williamson, this really takes the cake.”
That…had not been the reaction he’d been anticipating. He’d expected more anger. Now she was laughing at herself. She wasn’t furious, or crying. She was…amused. Chagrined at how she’d acted. And damn if that reaction hadn’t done things to his fantasies of her. At first he’d been daydreaming about angry sex with her—her furious lips mashing against his own as he f**ked her against a tree. Now he was picturing those wet, slick br**sts under his hands as she laughed and sweetly gave in to him.
Fuck. He clicked the flashlight off so she wouldn’t see how hard he was.
“Sorry if I ranted at you earlier,” she said, rubbing her arms under the blanket thing. “I was having a bad night, and the last thing I wanted was some man telling me he was going to come and rescue me, and I took it out on you. I apologize.”
“No harm,” he said slowly, watching her.
She rubbed her arms again, then turned to face him. “I appreciate you coming after me.”
He nodded, his eyes intent on her face. Even covered in mud and running makeup, she had the prettiest face he’d ever seen. He wanted to do rough, raw, dirty things to that sweet face. To see those lips curve around his c**k as he fed it into her hungry mouth.
She tilted her head. “You ok?”