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Chapter Ten

Guess who’s sittingnext to me in the back of Logan’s Escalade? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not my sister.

Liam has sunglasses on, so I can’t see his eyes. His head lies back on the headrest, his long legs fitting awkwardly behind Skye’s seat, which is not as far back as Logan’s, giving him a few extra inches.

“Stop looking at me,” Liam says.

“What are you? Twelve? I’m not looking at you.” I totally am.

He faces me now. “You’re staring at me. I can feel it.”

“Oh, and you’re psychic too! Mom’s going to love you.” I’m fluent in English, sarcasm, and fuck you.

“Mom is going to love him anyway.” Skye butts into our conversation if one can call it that.

“Yeah, but she’ll always love me more,” Logan says, then picks up Skye’s hand and kisses it.

She giggles.

I groan, “Can you two save it for later and keep the PDA to a minimum?”

“Haters gonna hate.” Logan’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and I flip him the bird. He laughs.

Liam’s head falls back against the seat again. “It’s going to be a long ride.”

“You can say that again.”

For the next two hours we alternate long moments of frigid silence with heated bickering. It’s juvenile. I know. He knows. And yet we can’t help ourselves.

Logan and Skye exchange glances every few miles and are having a silent conversation all of their own. A conversation I’m not privy to. My choices are silence or to annoy Liam.

Guess which one I pick?

I glance at him sideways. He’s facing away from me and looking at the trees passing by outside his window.

I take the chance to drink him in. He’s the same height as Logan, six-foot-two, but more muscular. His shoulders are a little bigger, his chest wider. His biceps strain against the fabric of his dark gray Henley.

I once read that soldiers and marines in Iraq and Afghanistan routinely carry between sixty and one hundred pounds of gear. Every day. For hours at a time. That’s like carrying a small person on your back.

I imagine him in a marine uniform, all that gear on his back, sunglasses protecting his gray eyes against the unforgivable desert glare. How strenuous it must have been to be so exposed, not only to the elements in a hostile place but also among hostile people. To be in a place where almost everyone is an enemy who wants you dead and you’re responsible for keeping everybody else around you alive.

I know I could never handle a fraction of what Liam must have faced. I have a healthy dose of respect for him and anyone in service. But I’m not telling him that. He still bugs the heck out of me.

Liam may be annoying, but there’s no denying he’s hot as fuck. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if my insides didn’t tingle every time I saw him.

I study his hands now. Beautiful hands, long fingers, nails short and clean, resting on muscular, strong thighs in dark jeans. And a sizable bulge. In my mind, the uniform is gone now, and what’s left is a beautiful and muscular man, tan naked skin gleaming in the sun.

I swallow. My imagination is trying to run wild and I have to rein it in.

His chest expands with a deep breath.

I glance up.

He’s facing me. I can’t see his eyes behind the reflective lenses of his sunglasses, but I know his eyes are on me. His lips tilt in an all too knowing smirk.

“Like what you see?” he asks me.

“A little full of yourself, aren’t you?”