A hawk squawked from just overhead, breaking the spell. He gently tugged on her hand and led her down the rocky incline, glad for the excuse to keep touching her.
They remounted the horses and took a circuitous path through the woods. After another thirty minutes, he stopped at a clearing. She took in the fire ring he’d constructed of flat stones and the hammock he’d hung between two trees. A conveniently placed fallen log—one he’d recently planed down—provided a natural bench nearby.
“You come here a lot, huh?”
He nodded. This was one of his favorite spots to chill. His trailer was only about fifty yards through the trees, but she had no way of knowing that.
“Is that ... a tree house?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.
“A tree house?” he gasped in mock horror.
“Well, what do you call it then?”
“It’s a tactical observation platform.”
One corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk that made him want to kiss her even more. “What are you tactically observing all the way out here?”
“Maybe I’ll show you later, if you promise not to call it a tree house again.”
“Hmph.”
He chuckled. Deliberately avoiding direct answers to rile her had become a new favorite pastime.
“I’m going to feed the horses. Gather some kindling, would you?” He paused and then added, “Those are thin, dry sticks for starting a fire, city girl.”
“I know what kindling is. Why do we need it?”
“So we can build a fire and cook our dinner. You want the full experience, don’t you?”
He hid his grin as she began to walk around the area, picking up sticks and branches. Once the horses were taken care of, he moved to a camouflaged wooden box and extracted an ax, and then he began splitting previously cut logs into smaller pieces for the fire.
It was all for show, of course. He already had enough firewood to last through the winter. The Paul Bunyan routine had been Heff’s suggestion. Cage had been skeptical, but he had to admit, Heff was pretty smart when it came to the ladies. The fact that he caught Bree ogling him several times was proof of that.
It didn’t take long to get a good cooking fire going. He extracted fixings from the micro coolers he’d stashed in the saddlebags as well as two square metal cooking tools with long handles from the storage box.
She eyed them warily. “What are you going to do with those?”
“Ever had a mountain pie before?”
“No, but if it’s anything like a cow pie, I’m not interested.”
He laughed. “Not even close, I promise.”
He showed her how to butter the bread on the outside, and then he had her pick her filling ingredients from the assortment of plastic containers Kate had prepared. Bree opted for chopped chicken and veggies; he went with ground meat in sauce and cheese. Then, he demonstrated how to close and lock the squares and balance them over the coals.
“These are delicious!” she admitted a short while later. She took another bite of the cooked pie, licking at the juice that had dripped over her lips and inadvertently testing the fit of his jeans in the process.
It wasn’t like she was trying to be sexy; she just was. It was in the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way she challenged and questioned everything. Cage found himself more entranced by the moment.
“Well, Nick, I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“The night is still young, and no field trip would be complete without s’mores.”
“They can’t possibly be better than this.”
He gaped at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had s’mores before?”
“Brooklyn girl, remember?”
How could he forget? Everything about her called to him on a level he didn’t fully comprehend, including her history. But he wasn’t supposed to know anything beyond what she’d told him. Plus, he liked the way she looked at him now. If they started talking about common backgrounds and his family, that could change the dynamic quickly.
Cage stood abruptly before he said or did something he’d regret, like telling her how much they had in common—or worse, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her senseless.
He needed a few minutes to regroup—preferably in the cold water of the lake.
“Before we do that, how about a swim?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bree
She smirked. “Right. In the forest?”
“The lake is just over there, beyond the trees. It’s a great way to cool down after an afternoon trail ride.”
His expression held a hint of amusement. She looked in the direction he’d indicated, trying to get her bearings. Her sense of direction wasn’t great on the best of days, but after zigzagging through the woods for a couple hours, she didn’t have a clue where they were relative to anything. He could be telling the truth, or he could be having fun with her.
Then, he began removing his boots. “Coming?”
“I don’t have a suit,” she hedged.
“You don’t need one.”
She shivered—as much from the thought of an evening skinny dip with a sexy SEAL as the idea of wading into water that wasn’t heavily chlorinated and contained by cement walls painted blue. “Aren’t there ... things in the lake?”
“Lots of things,” he agreed. “But they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
Wrong answer. She’d gone to the Jersey Shore once as a kid, and the memories of things brushing against her legs as she’d waded into the water still haunted her.
“Isn’t there some rule about not swimming right after you eat?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”
“I can swim!” she protested. “I’m just not ... very good at it.”
“All right, suit yourself.” He threw another log on the fire. “Stay here. Don’t go wandering off. There are things in the woods, too. I’ll be back shortly.”
“You’re not serious!”
Apparently, he was serious because he sauntered off and disappeared into the trees. She remained by the fire, staring off
