Page 16 of Branded Mountain Man
Colt's jaw tightened. "I'm not scared."
"Then what are you?"
"Realistic." He moved away from the window, putting more distance between them. "You have a life down there. A job that matters. People who need you."
"And you don't think you need me?"
"I know I don't deserve you."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Sloan felt something crack in her chest, a pain so sharp it took her breath away.
"Who made you feel like this?" she asked softly.
Colt's face shuttered. "Nobody had to make me feel anything. I know what I am."
"And what's that?"
"Someone who gets the people he cares about killed."
"That's not true."
"It is." His voice was flat, certain. "You want to know the real story? The one I didn't tell you last night?"
"Yes."
Colt was quiet for a long moment, and she could see him weighing his options. Tell her the whole truth and watch her run, or keep lying and drive her away anyway.
"Someone who gets the people he cares about killed."
"That's not true." "It is." His voice was flat, certain.
"You know what happened. You know why I'm up here."
"I know you've been punishing yourself for three years for something that wasn't your fault."
"It was my fault."
"Making a desperate decision in an impossible situation doesn't make you a killer, Colt."
6
HER TRAIL
COLT
Colt listened to the sound of Sloan packing her gear.
She moved with quiet efficiency, rolling up her sleeping bag and organizing her equipment with the same professional competence she'd shown when she'd first arrived. But there was something different in her movements now—a finality that made his chest tight.
Her 72 hours were up. Time to go.
He watched her, memorizing the way she moved in the early morning light. The careful way she folded her clothes. The methodical check of her pack. The professional mask that had slipped back into place sometime during the night.
"Weather's clear. Perfect hiking conditions." She shouldered her pack, testing the weight. "I should be able to make good time down the mountain."
Should be able to. Like she couldn't wait to get away from him.
Colt sat up slowly, his left leg protesting the movement. The old injury always acted up when storms rolled through, and three days of tension hadn't helped. "Your report?"
