Page 207 of Her Reluctant Hero
“So do I,” she said through her teeth.
Stubborn wasn’t as bad as most people made it out to be. It would keep her alive till he could get her back to safety. He wanted to smile again, but her other foot was still free and dangerously close to where it could do damage.
He released her and she scrambled to her side of the cave.
“Fine. Then put your clean socks on and put the dirty ones still in one piece over them.”
He watched to make sure she followed directions, then shut off the flashlight and closed his burning eyes.
Gabe dozed, his head against the wall. How could he relax when Peyton’s heart still drummed a mile a minute? The terror of the past few hours only now hit her. She’d understood it was serious at the time, but the pure audacity of their victory kept her mind churning.
Woman against nature. Considering the huge force she was up against, she felt damned lucky to come out even.
In the dim light of her headlamp, she saw the children were asleep, piled together like puppies. Josie curled against the wall, her back to them. So Peyton watched Gabe.
His strength was apparent in every aspect of his body, his broad shoulders and muscled arms accented in the black T-shirt, his wide callused hands, his stubborn jaw, black with both stubble and soot.
He was handsome, rescued women and children, true hero material.
God help her.
They’d be out of here in a few hours, back at camp, and Peyton would leave. She had her story, if not her answers. But she couldn’t afford to look for them in Gabe Cooper.
In all the stories she’d written in this series, no one had come as close to being the man Dan had been as Gabe did. She’d thought she was ready to deal with the feelings the comparison dredged up, both the familiarity and the resentment, but now everything was all tumbled up with a longing, a loneliness.
“A guy could get a complex,” he said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes still closed.
She hid her leap of surprise well, she hoped. She was sure he’d been asleep. Sneaky bastard. “Pardon?”
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry.” She took off her helmet, switched off the headlamp, leaving them in the dark. Something she should have done before, to conserve the light bulb. No telling how long they’d be down here. “You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
His voice sounded closer, softer in the darkness, but she hadn’t heard him move. Just her imagination.
“I’m figuring it out,” she hedged.
She was not going to discuss Dan with him. The further she kept him at a distance, the safer she would be.
“A mix between Cary Grant and John Wayne.”
“What?” She went cold.
“That’s who people say I remind them of.”
“John Wayne?” Dan’s team had called him John Wayne. She’d hated the nickname, no matter how apt. What grown man wanted to remind people of a dead movie cowboy?
“It’s the macho thing, I guess,” Cooper said, as if answering her thoughts.
“Is that why you came out here? Became a Hot Shot? Because you’re some kind of cowboy?”
“I didn’t think about it at the time and I’ve never done anything else. Does that make me a loser?”
“No. You’re exactly what you need to be to do the job you do.”
A moment of silence. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice tight.
