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“Might as well stay, until you’re done,” she said. “No sense walking back, then having to turn around to come right back to help you to the tent.” She wadded the blanket up in her arms and crossed them around the bulk of fabric to wait.

“Perfect,” he said and turned away, facing the tree.

Tarley let herself to look at his backside. Her eyes skimmed over his wide shoulders, the rounded planes of his shoulder blades, the dips and rolls of the muscle under his skin, the taper of his waist, divots on each side of his spine just before the muscle curved into a tight, beautifully rounded ass. She looked up at the sky through the trees surrounding them, slightly guilty for ogling him, but more annoyed that she liked what she saw, chastising herself for playing this game at all. But now felt as if she couldn’t capitulate.

So she waited.

Ollie cleared his throat. “I can’t seem to go–” He looked over his shoulder at her.

Tarley tilted her head.

“Not with you standing there.”

She narrowed her eyes, and her smirk deepened. “I’ll just walk back to get to the fire,” she told him, backing away, glancing at his hand pressed against the tree. A nice wide hand, veined and strong, with proportionally long fingers. “Just call me when you’re ready.” She twirled away, grinning because she knew she’d won that round.

With a minute shake of her head to put her brain back into its proper place, she walked back into the camp, her stomach growling as it reminded her there were things that needed to be done for survival. Hers and Ollie’s. It started with a fire. After some indecision on her part about what to do with the blanket, she tossed it back into the tent to keep it clean and returned to the fire pit. She raked the ash for hot coals, grateful there were a few, added some kindling and got it going once more.

“Tarley?” Ollie called.

With a deep breath to fortify herself, Tarley walked back and found him in the same place she’d left him. Only he was looking over his shoulder at her, his body turned to present his profile.

Her mouth dried out and she swallowed. Despite the cloth wrap around his ribs, along with the cuts and bruises blooming on his skin, he really was magnificent. Lean and long muscles stretched over his form, rounded in some places like his chest, and sharp in others, like the point of his hips.

She bolstered her defenses.

He covered his groin with one hand, pressing the other against the tree for support. His eyes drifted over her, eyebrows rising a few degrees with a question. “Where’s the blanket?”

“I left it in the tent.”

He grinned. “Why is that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want it to get dirty.”

“Is that why?” he asked, though his tone sounded like an amused accusation.

She didn’t know him well enough to comment on his teasing smile and ignored that her skin had felt like it was on fire the moment he’d touched her. She ignored that her cheeks were burning. She was just doing a job. She’d done her due diligence by this man. In a few days—hopefully—he’d be strong enough to go his own way.

In tense silence, they retraced their steps, Tarley next to a naked man she decided was no different from the tree, even if she knew it was a lie she was telling herself.

If her family could see her—

The thought nearly made her trip. Her mother and father would be so angry. Not at the naked man part—she didn’t think—but definitely that she had chosen to put herself in danger by helping him. One of them—hopefully Mattias—would be coming out to see her in a day or so to give her the all-clear. That could be problematic, though Mattias could be strong-armed into secrecy.

She glanced up at Ollie and wondered since he was stronger now and had the ability to move, maybe she should go for help to cart him back to Sevens, instead of waiting. That could avoid discovery and maybe was a safer option. But it would take her a day or more to do that if the weather held, and he wasn’t that strong yet. Besides, she wasn’t sure if it was safe for her to return to Sevens.

“Are you from the village then?” Ollie asked, breaking their silence. “Or are you a woodland fairy?”

That made her smile—on the inside. “Yes, I’m from Sevens.”

“For all twenty-two years of your life?”

When she tilted her head up to look at him, he was grinning.

“Are you attempting to ascertain my age, Ollie?”

“I think the river may have not only washed away my charm but also my wits.”

She wanted to smile back at him but didn’t. “Twenty-six.”