The asshole’s question makes me look when I swore I would ignore him the rest of the week. His tone is soft for once. He’s dressed in jeans fitted enough to reveal the long, lean lengths of his thighs and the narrow width of his swimmer’s hips. The polo is snug across his broad shoulders and tight around his biceps. Even without his uniform, he’s got the detached, commanding air that tells people he’s something different.
“No,” I lie.
Captain Mathis holds my gaze.
“I went too far,” he continues in the same tone. “I apologize.”
I’m not expecting an apology from the Iceman or the way my face feels warm under his direct look.
“I’ll be at the reception center.” He pushes away from the railing and walks away.
I turn to watch him, uncertain what to think.
He pauses, saying over his shoulder, “I’m a stickler for details. Your belt is on wrong. If you want help, let me know.”
I look down at the camp-issued belt, irritated, and then back up at him. Confident and strong, he’s got a quick gait and a nice ass. The man I think he is never would’ve apologized. Nor would I want him to. I want to hate him, because I don’t know how else to deal with Mikael being gone.
After a moment, I receive a text from Zach saying he’s waiting in the parking lot with my stuff. I go there instead of the reception center. He helps me carry everything to the lodge where I’ll be staying with the jackass. I set up my side of the room, wash my face in the bathroom and leave.
The others are laughing and talking when I enter the reception center. Brianna is the center of attention from all the guys, even Harris. I want to throw something but sit down in my seat to look at the paperwork they’ve been going over when I was out.
First aid procedures. Ugh. Schedule with two days marked as being offsite camping. Double ugh. I’m not the kind of person who wants anything to do with living in a tent. I don’t know any of this stuff, and everyone else seems a lot more comfortable with it.
“Ten minute break, then we’ll get started again,” calls Brianna. She’s definitely relishing being in charge.
I tell myself not to give her an ounce of thought, but it’s kind of hard. It doesn’t help that I have an unpleasant history with her. I’m feeling raw again, a combination of being somewhere I’ve never been without Mikael and feeling out of place with the others here.
God, I miss him so much.
“Hey, Kat.”
Dammit, Brianna. Leave me alone. I plaster on a fake smile and rise to talk to her.
“You’ve lost weight.”
“Been taking care of my brother. Hospital food leaves much to be desired.”
“Hmm.” A shadow crosses through her features. “At least you’re not up to your old antics anymore.”
“Some things are more important than my personal life,” I reply innocently.
That gets the response I want. Unable to provoke Captain Mathis, I know I haven’t lost my touch by the flare of red that goes up Brianna’s pretty face.
“We missed you at the hospital,” I add, digging in deeper.
“It wasn’t my place to be there,” she snaps. “I’m sorry what happened to your brothers, but –”
“You came here,” I point out. “You’ve always preferred the easy road, I guess.”
“This coming from a trust fund baby who spends every night at the club and has done nothing with her life!”
“Wait a minute.” I pretend to consider. “Weren’t you sleeping with both my brothers when you agreed to marry Petr?”
“Ohhhhkay, ladies.” It’s Riley. He’s looking between us. “Let’s just step away and cool off.” He plants a large hand on each of our shoulders and pushes us away from one another, moving his muscular frame between us. “Hey, Iceman, come get your partner before she tears mine apart.”
At least he knows who’d win. I take some satisfaction out of the acknowledgment and whirl.
Captain Mathis is across the room, hands on hips, watching. Impossible to read as usual, though one eyebrow is up in either accusation or inquisition. He nods his head to the side in a silent command for me to join him.
I have no idea where this guy gets off thinking he can boss me around. It might work with his men, but not with me.
I go outside instead, feeling claustrophobic.
Maybe being here is a mistake. I want to think it’s for Petr and Mikael – and it is – but there’s another reason I feel compelled to stay. I think there’s a piece of me that needs this, too, though I’m not sure why, when this is totally not my scene.
Tossing my head back, I gaze at the late afternoon sky, so blue and beautiful. The forest calms me, and I shake out my shoulders.
“Is there anyone here you don’t have a problem with?” Captain Mathis asks from behind me.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?”
He’s quiet. I have a feeling he’s not entirely certain what to say in response.
After a minute, he circles and stops in front of me, reaching for my belt. Not expecting the sudden proximity, I freeze where I’d normally move or push him out of my space. He smells lightly of coconuts once more, and I find myself staring at the width of his chest and the shapely arms and shoulders. His brown eyes are the shade of dark chocolate, his skin rendered golden by the sun and his hair kept in a neat high-and-tight. His heated strength is different than that of my brother’s.
I notice his body, how close he is to me, the way his roped forearm muscles shift with the movement of the long fingers unsnapping my belt. I’ve never paid any attention to my brothers like this.
“Grommets on the outside,” he instructs me. He steps closer to pull the belt out and twist it before settling it again at my waist. Snapping it into place, he drops his hands but remains a little too close for my comfort.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
In a manner of seconds, I’ve forgotten why I hate him and Brianna. It’s uncanny, as if my senses overtake conscious thought when he’s around.
“Your brother’s old enough to fight his own battles.”
Anger stirs, and I look up at him. “I know that!”
Captain Mathis is calm, always so calm. I wonder what it feels like not to experience emotions the way I do.
“So you’re just picking fights today?” he asks.
“None of your damn business!”
“For this week, it is,” he says firmly. “We’re a team. If you’re going to be picking fights all week, I’d like to know.”
“Why? So you can trade me?” I challenge, crossing my arms. Being so close to him is a little too intense right now. I step back self-consciously.
“So I can make sure I have your back, if it elevates,” he responds. “It’s what teams do. Take care of their own.”
“Except for Mikael.” I can’t help it. I’m feeling furious with the handsome man before me once more.
Captain Mathis doesn’t even blink. If anything, he seems to grow colder. “Whatever you think you know about me, I will have your back, because that’s the way this works.”
It’s not what I’m expecting to hear. He has a way of either infuriating me or deflating my anger. The weird tension stretches between us, the one that manages to replace thought with a physical awareness of his body.
We’re evaluating each other.
“Hey, guys! We’re starting again!” Harris calls from the porch.
I don’t like the idea of backing down – ever – and Harris’s shout is well timed.
Spinning, I retreat towards the reception center. Harris smiles at me, but I ignore him, returning to my assigned seat. Captain Mathis sits beside me a moment later, and I wait to see what new torture the counselors are about to be put through.
What the hell am I doing here? Really?
“This is a fun one!” Brianna is grinning. “Basically, an interview. You interview your partners then do a little verbal report to the group about what you’ve learned about your partner! Cool childhood memories, hobbies, favorite songs, anything.”
Really? Are we in junior high? Or maybe hell?
“Ready, go!”
Captain Mathis and I face each other. I sense more than see he’s uncomfortable with me. I suspect Mikael will always be between us. We stare at one another, neither speaking, until the silence gets so awkward, I shift in my seat. I can’t read him, don’t know how to take anything he says or how he looks at me. He’s so calm, it’s almost unnerving.
“This is what we call an interrogation in my line of work,” he breaks the silence at last. “I’m not a fan.”
I laugh at his dry humor, suspecting this is as bad for him as it is for me.
“Let’s do the opposite,” I suggest.
A curious smile tugs up one corner of his mouth. “Like what?”
“Instead of telling each other about ourselves” I roll my eyes “let’s make up stories about each other. It’ll be a lot more fun.”
He shifts.
I lean forward. I’ve caught him off guard. Finally.
“Ah. So you’re a total gingerbread man,” I assess. “Cookie cutter, same as everyone else, no imagination or ability to think for yourself.”
A spark of something lights in his gaze. Captain Mathis leans forward as well, elbows on knees. “You don’t get to where I am by not thinking for yourself.”
“Prove it,” I challenge. “Tell me a story about me. Make it good.” I’m almost curious about what he’ll say but convinced he’ll prove me right about being unable to think outside the box of discipline and nicely folded corners of his bedding.
Captain Mathis studies me for a moment, long enough for familiar heat to stir inside me, before he begins.
“Katya Khavalov is the kind of person who thinks throwing lemons at enemies is better than making lemonade. Fiercely independent, she learned at a young age how to use mind control on those around her. It worked on everyone but her dog, Sawyer, who was immune to the mind control and would chew on her shoes every night.”
By the end, I’m laughing again. Captain Mathis has a wry, subtle sense of humor that catches me off guard and a deadpan delivery that makes me wonder if I’m supposed to laugh or not.
“Not what you thought?” he asks with another of the faint, half smiles.
“Okay, my turn.” Composing myself, I spend a few seconds righting my story then share it. “Sawyer Mathis was born as a statue in a garden near a witch’s cabin. One day, the witch made him human, and sent him out to win her battles with the garden gnomes that were invading her lands. Handsome, dashing and indestructible, Sawyer won every battle, until he came across the dragon Katya. She swallowed him whole one evening but he turned back into stone in her gut and was stuck there forever.”
He’s smiling more widely this time. Dimples form in his cheeks that turn his features from handsome to almost charming.
“Isn’t this more fun?” I ask.
“I would’ve preferred to be a garden gnome to an orphan.”
“Oh. You’re an orphan? No family at all?”
“Not since I was two.”
“That’s sad,” I murmur, studying him. “Is that why you’re in the Marines?”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m in the Marines because the man who set me straight was a Marine. He taught me a few things about life, and I decided I wanted to be like him.”
“What do you mean set you straight?” I ask. “You had to have been born like this.” I wave at him.
“Not exactly.” He doesn’t seem to want to answer for a minute but finally relents. “I was in a gang for a few years as a teen, on a life path that would’ve put me in jail, if he hadn’t stepped in.”
I don’t want to, but I feel bad for Sawyer Mathis. I don’t envision a dark upbringing when I look at him. My family is my world. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up without my brothers and parents, to resort to a gang life. He doesn’t say it, but I’m pretty sure that means he grew up pretty poor, too.
We’re nothing alike and even more of opposites than I initially thought.
“What about you?” he asks. “What’s your story?”
I shrug. “Your story is interesting. Mine is kind of boring.”
“I doubt that. You seem to cause trouble everywhere you go. I’m sure you’ve got some good stories.”
“You heard Brianna,” I reply. “Spoiled trust fund baby with no plans for the future who likes to club.” The sarcasm in my words is heavy enough, I expect him to move on. He’s easy to talk to and listens intently, but I’m ready to retreat into my shell once more. I’m not here to make friends, especially with him.
“I don’t see any of that,” he says.
Eyeing him, I lean back. “Not so detail oriented?”
The flare of anger is in his gaze but disappears quickly. I’m starting to think I can get more of a rise out of him than he wants to acknowledge.
“I imagine that’s what you want people to think about you,” he replies. “Katya Khavalov is passionate, a woman with a big heart that makes up for her complete lack of discipline in any area. She’s creative and smart enough to do anything she wants with her life, loyal to the death, and beautiful. There might or might not be a sweet center beyond her crunchy exterior. Most people are too afraid of her to find out, which is the way she likes it.”
Crunchy? My face is hot by the time he’s done. Uncertain what to think about anything he’s said, I clear my throat.
“Sawyer Mathis likes to hide behind an icy exterior, to replace emotion with discipline and routine. He knows he can’t lose anyone or anything, if he doesn’t get attached, and if he does lose someone, it won’t hurt as much as it could. He’s brave and strong but alone. Always alone.”
We gaze at each other, neither speaking. The others are enjoying themselves around us. Every one of my interactions with Sawyer somehow skirts the shallow end of the pool and plunges into the middle of the ocean. I can’t help wishing I hadn’t proposed straying from the instructions. Maybe then I wouldn’t have learned a thing or two about the man I need to hate that makes me think of him differently.
I have a feeling he won’t be the first to break the thick tension this time. I rack my brain for a topic so benign, even we can’t mess it up.
“So …” I say. “Do you have a speech for tonight?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.” This is so awkward. I’m not even certain why it is. Do we have a connection or did we piss each other off more? Shouldn’t I know one way or the other?
He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. I unfold it and start to read. I’m not surprised he’s gotten it down word for word. He’s not the kind of person to wing it, the way I would.
Frowning, I reach the end. “This is awful.”
“Really?” He eyes me, as if suspecting I’m picking a fight again. “Why?”
“This is so impersonal and … I don’t know. Canned. Like a report or something. The Iceman thing might work in combat, but you’re talking to a bunch of kids who lost a parent. You should try to connect to them more.”
He’s quiet. I wish I could read him, at least a little. Is he remotely open to what I’m saying?
Like I care. I tend to act then think about whether or not I should have.
I take a pen and flip the paper over. “Maybe you should start with your own background. You’re an orphan. You know what it feels like.” Hearing my words, I look up. “Sorry. I don’t mean …” My face flashes hot.
“I understood,” he says with the half smile. Resting his elbows on the table beside me, he’s too close again. I’m starting to like his scent more and more, the combination of pure male and coconuts.
Heady and sweet. It makes me hungry for chocolate dipped macaroons.
“Maybe you can talk about that a little and the guy who inspired you to join the Marines. I mean, these kids all understand military stuff.” I make a few notes on the paper. “They probably need a bit more of warm and fuzzy.”
“Because I’m the warm-fuzzy type.”
I roll my eyes. “You can connect with normal people without going all gooey.”
He chuckles.
“And without ordering them around,” I add.
“It bothers you.”
I glare at him. “Really? You’re just now figuring that out?”
He doesn’t answer, but there’s amusement in his dark gaze that makes me think he’s messing with me this time. I’m not sure what to think about him teasing me.
I finish making notes then hand it to him.
“Thanks,” he says, reading it.
Whatever. “It’s fine if you toss it.”
“Why would I?”
“People don’t like listening to me.”
“Because your delivery sucks. Not because you don’t have something worth listening to. If you stopped nagging and yelling, you might find people listen better.”
My mouth drops open.
His attention is on the paper.
“You are such an ass,” I manage, unable to come up with a better line.
“I’m an honest ass.”
I lean back, too angry to respond. I’m not sure how else to show I care for Petr and help others, other than to nag. It’s the only thing that works on people like my brothers and father. Crossing my arms, I turn my gaze to the ceiling.
Captain Mathis scribbles a few more notes into the outline I created for him. I’m sorta surprised he’s considering it. He seems too … rigid to be open to change.
When he’s finished, he replaces it in his pocket. We return to the weird quiet and thick tension, simply staring at each other.
I really hope the rest of today passes faster. I’m pretty sure these team-building exercises are going to kill me.