Page 38 of Anton

“Yes, I did,” I replied, confirming what he already knew.

“Then I’d like to replace them. I’ll look forward to seeing you enjoy wearing them, as they should be worn.”

“Well, thank you,” I replied, unsure how to respond. I could replace them myself—after all, I ran a successful business and wasn’t short of a pound or two. But somehow, I sensed there was more to Anton’s offer than I realised, some underlying message. Was this his way of saying he wasn’t going to continue avoiding me? That he’d like to see me after all this is over? As a friend, or… dare I hope for something more?

The thought of his flirting yesterday and his heated looks today made me reconsider. Last night, I’d assumed his change in behaviour was just a distraction, a way to lighten the situation—like I’d been doing. And I’d decided to play along. Now, I wasn’t so sure it was a game. The more time we spent together, the more I believed his shift in attitude was genuine. But that didn’t mean I had to stop playing. In fact, it made me more determined to turn up the heat.

“What about the dress?” I asked, doing a little shimmy to show off what was left of it. “Claire bought it for me. It’s one of Sara’s originals. I love how it feels. It’s beautiful, don’t youthink?” I said, feigning innocence as I dragged my hands down the sides of it, my touch slow and deliberate.

“I… er…” Anton stuttered, his mouth hanging open. He blinked rapidly, clearly struggling to focus.

“Close your mouth, baby. You’ll catch flies,” I teased with a cheeky smirk before sauntering off in front of him, putting my hips into each step despite the ache in my feet. By the time this ordeal was over, Anton would be unable to resist my charms any longer.

A couple of hours later, the sun was high in the sky, and my footsteps were getting heavier, my feet dragging over the uneven forest floor, and all thoughts of play had disintegrated like dust in the wind.

Anton had slowed, letting me set the pace and our progress had dramatically reduced. This was bad. I couldn’t believe that nobody had caught up to us yet.

The thought had me checking over my shoulder. I stumbled on a tree root and fell forward with a cry. Before I could hit the ground, my Mr Sexy Soldier was there. He hauled me up and against him. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling foolish. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t be a liability, yet here I was, day two and the distance we’d created by doubling back yesterday had to be dwindling fast now. I went to pull away, but Anton tightened his arms around me. Dipping his head, he rested it on top of my own.

“I know this is hard on you, honey. You’re doing so well under the circumstances. I’m so impressed by your resilience, Marcie. I just need you to go on a little further until we can find a safe place to stop for a rest. Can you do that for me?”

Sighing heavily, I pressed my cheek against Anton’s chest, allowing myself a moment to take in the strength of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear. His wordssoothed the lingering ache in my legs and the doubts that clawed at my mind.

“I can do it,” I whispered, summoning every ounce of determination I had. I tipped my head back to meet his gaze, my lips curving into a small smile despite the weariness I knew must be evident in my features.

The intensity in his eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, it felt as though nothing else existed but the two of us in this vast, unforgiving wilderness. But reality came crashing back as he released me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulders, urging me forward.

About ten minutes later, my eyes were drawn to where the sun glinted off bright red patches in the trees ahead. My stomach growled as I realised what they were.

“Are those… cherries?” I pulled out of Anton’s arms, brushing past him with growing excitement, almost stumbling again in my haste.

“Careful,” he warned, following me, but his voice softened with approval when he saw the patch of fruit-laden trees off to our left. “Yeah, wild cherries. Good find.”

We stopped beneath the trees, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. My fingers trembled slightly as I plucked one of the cherries, the red juice staining my thumb. It was warm from the sun, sweet and tart as I bit into it.

“Lunch,” I declared, grabbing another handful. I felt proud I’d spotted them—my little contribution to our survival after Anton’s fish from the night before. Maybe I wasn’t such a liability after all.

Anton raised an eyebrow but followed suit, pulling down a branch to pick more cherries. He popped several into his mouth while looking around the area.

The little clearing was wild, and the small cluster of cherry trees provided not only food but also the perfect place to rest, hidden from sight, except by the path we’d just taken.

“Well, I guess this is the perfect place,” Anton mumbled around a mouthful of fruit.

We sat beneath the tree, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I let out a deep breath, relaxing.

“You’ve got…” he gestured vaguely at my face, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Juice,” he said, pointing to his own chin as he continued chewing.

I wiped my chin with the back of my hand, catching his gaze lingering on me. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my pulse kicked up.

Oh, this was too good.

I licked my fingers slowly, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He froze mid-bite, his jaw tightening. Then I bit into another cherry, allowing the juice to drip over my lips.

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