Page 45 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“But we need some ground rules,” I said, my tone harsher than I meant for it to be.
He squeezed my hand tighter and pulled me closer. “I happen to like rules, Trouble. Tell me what you need so we can get to work.”
At the flirtatious flash in his eyes, I jerked away. Boundaries. Yes. They were a necessity if I had any hope of surviving him.
I took another step back for good measure. When it came to scruffy lumberjacks, distance was always helpful.
“No more flirting,” I said, my pitch a little too high. “And you can’t mention the, uh…” I paused, sure I wouldn’t have to finish the sentence.
But his only response was to widen his eyes in question.
Dammit.
“You know.” I cleared my throat, my cheeks burning. “That we had sex.”
“So you want to ignore it?” He crossed his arms, which made his stupid biceps bulge and my core twinge.
“Yes!” I shouted.
He was way too calm and looked way too good. I couldn’t handle the teasing. “Wipe it from your memory. You want to work together, then we have to pretend there’s no sexy history between us.”
“Can’t do it.” He shook his head, chuckling.
“Jude,” I hissed. “Be serious.”
“I am serious. I told you I was all in. I told you that you could trust me. So what if we had sex multiple times and on multiple surfaces?”
I covered my face and groaned.
“And yes, it was fucking great,” he went on, uncaring that I was slowly dying of mortification. “But I’m a gentleman, Trouble. If it embarrasses you or bothers you, I won’t mention it. But I’m not gonna let you take those sexy memories away from me.”
I peered at him from between my fingers. This entire conversation had gone off the rails.
“I won’t do anything or say anything to make you uncomfortable. I promise.”
“I know that.” I dropped my hand. “You’ve been so good to me. Truly. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
He smirked. “This is important. And we need to trust each other.”
“Strangely, I do trust you,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s your awesome dog, or maybe because you’re a single guy who keeps hand soap in the bathroom. But you need to understand what you’re getting into with me.”
Hand held out, he took a step closer.
Despite my better judgment, I took it and gave it a firm shake, pushing away thoughts of how warm and strong his calloused palm felt.
“You have my word,” he said. “I will do whatever I can to help you, and I won’t let our sexual history get in the way.”
“Friends,” I declared, my stomach fluttering obnoxiously in his proximity.
It was the broadness of him, the way he took up space, that pulled me toward him. Or maybe it was his warmth and strength. As much as I’d like to step into his arms and let him comfort me, I needed to keep this friends boundary firmly in place.
“Can I get my friend more coffee?”
With a nod, I released him.
We got back to work, and while I used Google Earth to pull up images on his computer in order to better orient myself, he measured and calculated distances. After an hour or so, we had a decent search area mapped out and a plan for how we would get started.
We’d leave early tomorrow morning, when we’d have a lower chance of being seen, and drive as close as we could to the most likely spots. There, we’d comb carefully through the area, searching for the phone. It would take time, but the plan was far more strategic than running into the woods and stopping to look in places that seemed familiar.
