Yasmin huffed as she pushed her ebony waves out of her face, feeling the dampness at the back of her neck that irritated the hell out of her as her hair stuck to it, clung in a way that made her want to do something. Scream probably.
She stopped near a towering pine that looked like every other damned tree in the forest and turned in a circle, trying to spot the path. There had to be a path. She was sure she had been following one from the trailhead where she had left her car parked next to Ivy’s Jeep, and several other vehicles that had told her she was in the right area.
Maybe it had been an animal track.
A cool breeze blew up the gentle slope to her right, carrying the scent of water. She could hear the river in that direction. Maybe it would be wise to head downhill until she found it and then track it towards the area that her friend had called ‘the creek’ more than once. There had been a river in Ivy’s photographs. It stood to reason that she would find her friend near the one she could hear.
Yasmin shrugged out of her heavy pack, set it down on the rough earth between the tangled roots of the pines and rifled through the side pockets, her mood taking a nosedive as she struggled to find what she was looking for.
“A-ha.” She grinned as she opened the fifth pocket—seriously, why so many pockets on these stupid backpacks—and found her elastics and other beauty items.
She straightened, lifted her hair away from her neck, scrunched it together and tied it in place with the band. Parts of it instantly fell down again, framing her face, but it would do for now. All she cared about was keeping her neck clear. It was bliss as the breeze caressed it, had a soft sigh leaving her lips as she savoured it.
When the wind died down again, she stripped off her black jacket, because a winter coat combined with her royal purple sweater and the long-sleeved cream t-shirt she wore beneath that had probably been a bit much. She had been expecting the weather to be cooler than it was. There had been snow on the mountains in Ivy’s photographs after all.
She peered through the dense trees to catch a sliver of the mountain that loomed closest to her. There was still snow on it. Apparently, snow on the peaks didn’t mean it was cold in the valley. It was rare she learned something new, novel in fact. What else was she going to learn on this adventure?
Yasmin hefted the pack back onto her shoulders. The weight of it pressed down on her and she twisted and grimaced, trying to get comfortable again. Maybe the sunny day wasn’t solely responsible for her working up a sweat. The heaviness of her pack combined with the exertion of the hike probably would have been enough to have her running a little hot even if it had been a chilly day.
She threaded her coat over the bottom of the right strap of her pack, so it pressed against her back and hip and wouldn’t fall into the dirt, and kicked off again, picking her way through the trees as she headed downhill towards the river.
A man with wild black hair and golden eyes stepped into her path, emerging from the trees like some sort of predator to stare her down.
She casually drew to a halt four metres from him.
Raked her gaze over him, taking in a navy shirt that stretched tight over his athletic build, long legs encased in very practical black trousers, and scuffed boots that looked as if he had trekked hundreds of miles in them and needed a new pair. Too cheap to purchase them? Or sentimental and attached to these ones for some reason?
She lifted her head back up to meet his golden eyes.
He didn’t look the sentimental type.
His straight jaw set hard, his lips compressing, causing the scar that streaked across the left side of his mouth to pull on his cheek.
He looked as if he wanted to growl at her.
Yasmin concluded there was a high probability he could help her. “I’m lost, can you tell me the way—”
“Private property. Turn your ass around and march it back the way you came,” he interjected, voice a gravelly snarl that had more bite than the local bears.
That was rude.
She narrowed her dark eyes on him. “No. If you would let me finish.”
He shook his head. “Not going to happen. This is no place for camping. Private property.”
“Yes, you’ve said that twice now, and if you would let me finish.”
He took a hard step towards her, his eyes glowing brighter. Oh, if he wanted to do angry, she could show him angry.
“Listen,” she snapped. “I know my friend is somewhere around here, and I am going to see her. Something tells me you know her. Ivy Wentworth?”
The barest flicker of surprise lit his stormy gold eyes before he schooled his features, hardening them again. “Don’t know her. Off you go now. Try the other direction.”
Liar.
“The other direction is my car.” And his, she was guessing.
It was probably the battered ancient pick-up she had seen that had more rust than paint on it.
“Good.” He folded his arms across his chest and glowered at her.
“So I’m not going back that way. I’m going this way.” She started left, because he had obviously come from nearby and that meant she was close to the creek.
He was in front of her in a flash, blocking her way. “I can’t allow that. Turn your ass around and march it back to your car.”
That was it.
Yasmin mimicked him, crossing her arms over her breasts, and the bastard had the audacity to glance at them as her actions pressed them together and upwards in her purple sweater.
“Try to make me leave,” she growled as she glared at him. “I dare you. We’ll see who comes off worse.”
His golden eyes leaped up to hers, and this time he didn’t hide his surprise.
Not used to strong females?
He was taller than she was, his build slim but clearly powerful. His shirt was tight enough that she could see it was hiding a muscled torso, and he had rolled up the sleeves to reveal tightly corded forearms that flexed as she stared at them.
Yasmin lifted her eyes back to his. “I’m going to see my friend whether you like it or not. You can’t stop me.”
He tried anyway, moving left and right to block her path as she tried to get past him.
Exasperating man!
She was close to hitting him to get him to stop.
He blocked her again when she made another attempt to pass him rather than giving in to the urge to clobber him. “How do you know this friend of yours is at the creek?”
She almost smiled. The creek. So he had come from the place where Ivy was staying with her new man. Which meant he was going to take her there, whether he liked it or not.
She feinted going left, and when he moved to block her, she went right and slipped past him. He growled in frustration and grabbed her wrist, and she turned on a pinhead, slammed her palm against his chest and shoved him back into a tree. He went easily, wasn’t a challenge at all.
Mostly because he was holding back.
Thought her feeble? Thought he might hurt her by accident if he exerted a little strength? She wanted to laugh at that.
Yasmin huffed and splayed her hand out against the centre of his chest, and yes, it was firm beneath her palm, muscles rigid and tensed, and there was that strength he was hiding from her.
“Are you going to take me to Ivy now?” She inched closer to him and pressed her hand harder against his chest to keep his spine pinned to the tree, just in case he thought about moving.
But he didn’t seem inclined to break free of her hold.
He regarded her with gold eyes that held a spark of heat, his silence stretching out for a moment that was so long she began to feel a little uncomfortable as she stood with her hand on his chest, his heart pounding against it, steady and strong.
She also started to wonder whether she had done some sort of permanent damage to him. She was on the verge of asking him whether he needed medical assistance when he finally responded.
He dipped his chin in a nod, his eyes remaining locked with hers as he spoke. “What’s your name?”
Not quite the response she had anticipated, but she would give it to him, because unlike him, she wasn’t rude. “Yasmin.”
He glanced down. “I’ve heard of you.”
She followed his gaze, tensed and removed her hand from his chest as she realised she was still touching him. His eyes lifted to her, banked heat in them, a flicker of interest that had her wanting to look away from him as a fire tried to lick over her cheeks. She resisted the need that raced through her and the blush, quelling both of them.
“I don’t doubt that.” She kept her voice even and emotionless, so he got the message that she didn’t feel the attraction that zinged between them. She really didn’t. “Ivy emailed me telling me she met a guy, fell in love of all things and that she wouldn’t be home for a while. She assured me that she was fine, but I’m here to see that for myself.”
“Commendable.” He knew big words. Trying to impress her?
She nodded. “I like to think so.”
He pushed away from the tree, coming to tower over her, easily eight inches taller than she was, and looked down at her.
His handsome face softened, that heat in his golden gaze lingering. “I’m Flint, Rath’s brother. Ivy is fine. She’s in love with Rath and nothing bad is happening here.”
He could attempt to appease her all he wanted. It wasn’t going to make her leave.
“Good.” She adjusted the bag on her back. “Because I prefer to heal injuries rather than cause them.”
A hint of a smile, enough that she could see that he would be devastating if he cracked a full blown grin. “Came here prepared for war?”
Yasmin nodded again. “If necessary. Ivy is my friend. My only friend.”
That had him turning serious, the dark slashes of his eyebrows knitting hard as the corners of his lips turned downwards. “I get that. You’re protective. I have a protective streak of my own… one I’ll introduce you to if you try to do anything to hurt my brother, including attempting to take Ivy from him.”
She arched an eyebrow at that. Protective of his brother’s happiness? That was commendable, as he would say.
“You think you can take me? Good luck with that.” She strode past him.
His eyes landed on her back and raked down her spine, a hot shiver following in their wake, and he purred, “I know I can take you.”