The gamer looked a bit green at the thought, and Dane wondered how he’d managed to catch the fish if the thought of touching it was so revolting. He nodded at the fish. “Here, give it to me and I’ll show you how to do it this one time, but after this, it’s on you. Understand?”
Pete seemed reluctant to hand the fish over, but did so after a moment, and Dane immediately saw the problem.
“This fish is dead,” he pointed out, angling his face away from the smell. “Very, very dead. Several days dead.”
Pete crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that a problem?”
Dane held it toward Pete’s face, watching as the other man flinched away. “Do you want to eat it?”
“Well, no.”
He held it back out to Pete. “Take this out there and bury it somewhere. You’re supposed to be catching live fish, not scavenging dead ones. Leave that for the coyotes.”
The other man suddenly looked panicked. “There are coyotes?”
“Don’t worry about the coyotes,” Dane told him. “They’re terrified of people. You’re more likely to see a unicorn than a coyote out here. Now head back out and actually fish. In the water. With line and bait. I’m going to go find Miranda.”
“Speaking of Miranda,” Pete said, his voice low and thoughtful. “You guys know each other?”
The hair on the back of Dane’s neck prickled at Pete’s question. “We went to high school together. Why?”
“She single?”
Hot jealousy speared through him. He resisted the urge to bite off that no one was going to be touching Miranda but him. They were supposed to be keeping things a secret. Clenching his hands, he reached for a piece of kindling and began to snap it into smaller pieces. “I didn’t ask her. Why?”
Pete gave him a smug look. “She was checking me out the other day. I thought I might see if she’s interested in going out when we get out of this little hellhole called nature.”
For some reason, that really irked Dane. Nature wasn’t hell. And to think that Miranda had been checking the skinny creep out…he didn’t buy it.
“Unless you’re planning on tapping that ass?” Pete said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at her.”
His jaw tightened. The urge to suddenly pound Pete’s face in washed over him, and he clenched his fists. “No, I’m not,” he lied. In that moment, he missed hockey and the ability to punch the hell out of your opponent. “She’s just an old friend.”
He couldn’t say yes—Sure, I slept with Miranda last night and she was wild. It was hot as hell, and I plan on doing it again. I want to see the expression on her face when I show her how to come again. I want to see the expression on her face when I put my mouth on her sweet pu**y, and her expression when I feed my c**k into her body.
He couldn’t say any of that. And even if he thought about Miranda’s sassy little thong or her curving smile or the way she’d made those soft, surprised little cries of pleasure when he’d pounded into her, as if she hadn’t been expecting to enjoy it so much. He couldn’t say a damn thing. This was business, and Miranda was business, and no matter how much he might like for it to be otherwise, it couldn’t be.
Pete adjusted his glasses and smiled. “Excellent. Then you don’t mind if I go after her?”
If his jaw gritted any harder, his teeth were going to snap. “Not during survival week.”
“Oh, after, of course.” Pete stared off into the woods where Miranda had disappeared. “I wouldn’t want to see her before she could take a nice, long shower.”
Fucking ass**le. As if Miranda smelled bad. Just the opposite, in fact. She’d smelled like the woods—wood smoke and the wind and just a hint of sweat—and he’d found it incredibly appealing. This little creep wouldn’t know what was appealing if it decked him in the face. Hiding his anger, Dane pointed at the dead fish. “You need to get rid of that and catch a real fish. Got me?”
The other man gave him a reluctant nod and then headed back away from camp, muttering under his breath. He swiped at the branches as he walked, the actions of a petulant child and not a grown man.
Dane gave it two days before Pete bailed out on the class entirely. Good. The man was acting like a brat and the class would only get harder. That was one of the things he appreciated about Miranda, he thought as he turned in the opposite direction and began walking. She didn’t complain about the class, about being unable to shower or sweating in the dirt and sleeping on the ground. When he’d seen that bag full of lingerie, he’d been worried that she would be a huge pain in the ass this week. But…she wasn’t. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself in the outdoors, and he was enjoying her presence as well.
Then again, he hadn’t expected to have sex with her. It made him a little uncomfortable to think that he’d automatically assumed that she’d been a plant from Colt and Grant—she had been so offended at the thought that he knew she was sincere. He shouldn’t have slept with her. Shouldn’t have, and yet…he couldn’t resist. When her gaze went soft, he wanted to bury himself deep inside her and make love until morning.
Still, he wasn’t entirely sure Miranda’s motives were innocent. Why would a woman who liked lingerie and sexy things want to spend a week in the wilderness? Things didn’t add up, he decided. Either Miranda had a really killer dual personality—girly-girl of the backwoods—or he was missing some vital element.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what.
As he contemplated the Miranda situation, he walked through the woods, idly noticing the play of footprints in the dirt. Though he wasn’t the best tracker, it wasn’t hard to see that someone had come this way. He touched a broken twig and knelt by the ground. The hard dirt hadn’t seen rain for a few days and showed the wavy lines of a boot sole perfectly. Judging by the size of the shoe, it wasn’t a man unless the guy was packing some seriously dainty feet. He followed the footprints, thinking about his small class. With one glaring exception, they’d been interested and willing to learn. The others were corporate hounds—it was easy to spot the type, as they were aggressive and driven. The desire to succeed was clear.
Tracking wasn’t on the week’s menu, but he thought of Miranda’s face and the way it lit up when things clicked and she learned something new. Maybe he’d show her a few things when he found her. After she’d cooled down, that is. She’d almost had her fire—a few more minutes of sawing and she’d have had a spark for sure. Her quick mind had picked up on the implements and had followed his instructions almost to the letter. She’d been so close…until they’d started talking about town. About Bluebonnet.