What’s best for Gunner is to take this fight with Zane Davis. If he doesn’t do it,he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. It’s really that simple.
Finally, she made it to the turn off onto the narrow trail that led to his cabin. Her heart was beating fast from anticipation and nervousness.
As it had been the first time she’d made the drive, the maneuvering was once again difficult and there were a few times that she feared she was going to accidentally go off the road and get stuck in the dirt and mud.
But eventually she made it through to the clearing where Gunner’s cabin was located. As before, she saw his battered blue pickup truck, the cords of freshly cut wood.
Only this time, Gunner was standing next to the stacks. He was naked from the waist up, and his muscular body was glistening with sweat as he swung the hatchet and split a piece of wood in two.
He bent down, picked up the pieces and tossed them onto the pile.
Then he turned and squinted at Krista as she drove up to within a few feet of where he stood.
She stopped the car and parked, then turned the ignition off. The car’s engine died and she sat for a moment, watching Gunner’s reaction to seeing her show up like this.
His expression was unreadable. He grabbed his t-shirt from nearby, and at first, Krista thought he was going to put it back on. Instead, though, he just used it to wipe some of the sweat off his chest.
She couldn’t help but stare. Gunner King was sex personified. His intricate tribal tattoos spiraled up both biceps and over his sinewy shoulders. He had ripped and sculpted abs, and his jeans were hanging low enough to see the notches of his hips.
Don’t just sit and stare like a groupie, Krista, she admonished herself. Get outand do what you came here to do.
So Krista opened the door to her car and forced herself to get out and confront the most dangerous man on the planet.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, as she got out.
“I needed to talk to you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to spike up, but somehow look that much more alluring. His eyes were wary and mistrusting. For a split second she was sure that he knew the truth. “I don’t see what there is to say,” Gunner told her. He took the hatchet and chopped it into one of the thick hunks of wood next to him, and the hatchet blade stuck there.
Then Gunner moved away from the wood, walking confidently across the driveway.
“I wanted to apologize for the interview yesterday,” Krista said.
“No need to apologize,” Gunner replied, not really looking at her. He grabbed a wheelbarrow and walked it over to the woodpile. “You were doing your job. It is what it is.”
“But that’s not really true,” Krista said, her hands twisting against one another as she tried to get his attention. “I wasn’t just doing my job.”
Gunner started tossing pieces of chopped wood into the wheelbarrow, still refusing to look at Krista as they conversed. “Then what were you doing?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I wasn’t being myself.”
Finally he glanced up at her. “How so?”
Just tell him the truth, she thought. Tell him everything. That’s the only way thiscan ever work.
But the thought of it was horrifying. She knew he’d send her away, never want to talk to her again. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet.
“I wasn’t being completely honest when I told you that I approved of your decision,” she said.
“Yeah, I figured as much, remember?”
“But as you were talking yesterday, I started to understand a little bit. I started to get it.”
Gunner threw another piece of wood into the wheelbarrow. His biceps flexed as he effortlessly worked. “What do you get, Krista?” He looked at her again, challenging her with his eyes.
It was like another electric shock when her eyes met his. She looked quickly away, unable to make eye contact with him and still speak coherently. “I got that this whole thing must be a nightmare for you,” she said. “I realized that everyone just sits around making assumptions about who you are and why you do what you do.”
“Yeah, it comes with the territory.”
“But that’s part of why you want to escape from it, right?”
“No, it’s not.” He chucked another piece of wood into the wheelbarrow. Then he started to walk towards her a few steps. “Why are you really here, Krista? Huh?”
She couldn’t look away from him as he moved in her direction. She was so desperately attracted to him on so many levels. Physically, she wanted to touch him and be touched by him. She wanted to feel his lips on hers. Emotionally, she sensed something in him that needed to be heard and understood—something she felt she could understand, if only he’d let her.
But she was also afraid of him, of his anger, his judgment. Afraid that he would expose her for the liar she’d become.
“I told you why I’m here,” she said, trying to stand her ground as he came towards her. “I’m here because I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Fine, you said it.” He stopped a couple of feet away from her, close enough that she could see his chest rising and falling, the veins running up his forearms and over his biceps. “Why are you still here?” he asked.
“Because,” she said. “I want to continue our interview, Gunner.”
He shook his head slowly no. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Give me another chance to prove to you that I can be…”
“Be what?”
“Sympathetic. I can listen to your story. I can help—“
“I don’t need your help,” he said, and his eyes
