“Thank you for defeating Ramsey again,” she said to Bridger rather than beg him to love her and find a way to make their lives coincide.
“I’ll do it again tomorrow, unless I find a way to get us out of here first.”
Avalyn wanted to trust in his confidence, but she was scared, really scared, of waking up tomorrow.
“It’s hard being the best.” He gave her a cocky grin.
She rolled her eyes, though she did like his smart-aleck attitude. “I’ll bet it is.”
Bridger slowly walked toward her. His dark gaze pinned her in place. The muscles in his abdomen and chest rippled beautifully. She wanted to run her fingers along each individual muscle. No! She couldn’t let herself go there.
He stopped in front of her and she tilted her head back to meet his eyes, praying for strength and wisdom. She’d asked too much of the good Lord lately, though, and was afraid her prayer quota had been reached. Her mama would tell her there was no such thing, but Avalyn didn’t know if even divine intervention could give her the strength to avoid throwing herself at this beautiful man and getting her heart ripped out in the process.
“There’s something else I hear I’m the best at,” he murmured. His eyes languidly lowered to her lips.
Avalyn’s breathing quickened. She could hear waves lapping against the boat and the motor running as she tried to tell herself not to rise to this obvious challenge. “Oh, really? What’s that?”
“Kissing.”
He gave her his trademark smirk, and all her concerns came rushing horribly back to her. He was a player in every sense of the word. Love ’em and leave ’em was Bridger Hawk’s motto in life, right after “What’s a challenge, and where do I find it?” That probably applied to women as well. Her mind spun. It did apply to women! He’d said that line to her when he’d kissed her in Cancun the day before Creed and Kiera’s wedding. Dang him.
Avalyn’s eyes narrowed and she pushed at his chest with her hands.
“What?” Bridger backed up a step, lifting his own hands innocently.
“You hear you’re the best?” She folded her arms across her chest. “How many women have you ‘heard’ it from?”
Bridger arched an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”
Avalyn clamped her jaw before she growled at him and revealed exactly how jealous she was. She spun away from him, grabbed a pillow off the bed, and stalked to the couch. Lying down so she faced the couch cushions and the wall, she yanked the throw blanket off and draped it over herself.
For a few seconds, all she could hear was her ragged breathing and the boat’s motor. What was Bridger thinking? Did he realize how petty and jealous she was? How she wanted him all to herself? She felt so off in this horrific situation, so unlike her usual confident, benevolent self.
His footsteps slowly approached. Avalyn clenched her fists and refused to look at him. Her heart was racing out of control. Part of her felt justified in her petty jealousies and her refusal to fall for a player; part of her just wanted to kiss him and worship him for rescuing her over and over again.
“Ava?” he said.
Avalyn squeezed her eyes shut.
He let out a frustrated growl, similar to what she’d wanted to express seconds ago. Avalyn smiled in spite of herself. At least she wasn’t the only one upset.
Bridger wrapped a hand under her upper back and one under her legs and swept her off the couch.
“Bridger!” Avalyn grabbed on to his shoulders for stability.
He stared down at her, all traces of teasing gone. “You’re sleeping in the bed.”
“Not with you,” she threw back at him.
He stalked to the bed but held on to her. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Avalyn shook her head. “You can’t sleep on the couch. You need to be in prime condition to beat stupid Ramsey tomorrow.”
His eyes darkened. Avalyn realized she was still clinging to his shoulders, so she let go and folded her arms across her chest.
“It’s a big bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the other side.”
“And put some pillows between us.”