Page 35 of Fourth Point Of Contact

That was the best he had? “Okay, while disturbing that any man would wear skinny jeans, that hardly reaches the pinnacle of my embarrassment.”

“You’re right. Your poop story was hilarious,” he teased.

I was never going to live that down. “Hey, I was terrified and we had just jumped out of a plane. What did you think would happen?”

I nearly tripped again, but he caught me by the elbow, tucking me against him for a moment. I immediately slid my hand around his waist for balance, regretting it the moment I felt the rigid muscles beneath his shirt. Everything seemed toclose in on me. Breathing was hard, swallowing was impossible, and tearing my eyes from his beautiful face seemed like a monumental task that would only end in misery. Why did he have to be so freaking handsome?

“You’re doing it again,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Staring at me. It’s not the first time, sweetheart.”

“For you, either,” I reminded him, though I still couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“I only stare when there’s something worth looking at.”

A muted gasp slipped past my lips when his fingers brushed a speck of mud from my face. The heat from his touch was nearly my undoing, leaving me shaky and completely unable to move, let alone think, in his presence. Why did he have to say such sweet things? When this adventure was over, I’d go my way and he’d go his. We’d never see each other again, and I’d be reminded that men generally sucked.

I needed to do something—to tear my eyes from his and pretend he’d never looked at me that way. It was all due to circumstance anyway. We had jumped out of a plane and…and life had nearly ceased to exist. That was all this was. There was no real attraction between us. We had been in a high-stress situation and reacted. It was perfectly normal.

I forced myself back a step and cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Surely, you have a secret better than skinny jeans.” I turned and trudged forward, leaving him behind so I didn’t ogle him for longer than necessary. Usually, men were totally unaware of my eyes on them.

“I have plenty of secrets. I’m just not sure I want to part with any of them.”

“Then just one. Give me one good one to make me feel better about the crap I laid at your feet.”

I grimaced at my choice of words, but thankfully, he didn’t laugh at me.

“Alright. Deep, dark secrets. Let’s see,” he said thoughtfully as we continued to trudge through the mountains. “Alright. Here’s one that I will never live down if anyone finds out about it. I mean, technically, my team just found out, but I’m trusting you not to say a word to anyone.”

This had to be good. “Scouts Honor.”

“And you can’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I do that? I literally told you my poop story! What could be worse than that?”

“I used to be a stripper.”

I stopped walking. My heart ceased to beat. I had to look like a freaking statue, the way my jaw dropped and I couldn’t make my feet move. “You’re…Holy. Freaking. Shit. Are you fucking with me?”

“No. I?—”

“You thinkthatcompetes with my poop story?”

“Um—”

“Ooh, my name is Patrick and you should all feel bad for me that I used to be a stripper and women tossed money at me when I took off my clothes,” I said mockingly. “Do you even know what embarrassment is?”

“Well, it was sort of embarrassing to me,” he muttered. “I got a lot of shit over that.”

I narrowed my eyes at his choice of words, but he didn’t backpedal.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to come back from serving overseas and you can’t get a job doing anything other than taking your clothes off?”

The anger in his voice made me flinch. I hadn’t considered it like that. “I’m really sorry. I—I wasn’t thinking, and?—”

His face pinched with laughter as he tried to hold it in. My nostrils flared as annoyance shot through me. I bent over and swiped at the ground, picking up a clump of mud, then tossed it at his face just as he opened his mouth to bellow out a laugh.

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