Page 112 of Misguided

With nothing short of tender care, he fists the cuff of his shirt in his hand and uses the sleeve of his sweater to wipe my face clean.

Curiosity gets the better of me. “Am I the first?”

“First what?” He frowns.

“Girl you’ve taken hunting.”

His smirk returns, full force, as he runs a rough thumb down the side of my face. “You jealous, Miss Mel?”

“Curious, is all.”

“Hmm.” He bops me on the nose with his thumb and then pulls away. “Think you could pull down the tent?”

“Can’t promise it’ll be packed away very tidy.” Especially when I’m currently frustrated at his lack of answer.

I don’t know why it matters so much if he’s shared this experience with another woman, but I can’t deny the fact that it does. The sickness swirling in my stomach at the thought of our special getaway not being so special after all, tells me so.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s thrown in a pile.” He heaves as he picks up both sides, and tosses the slabs of meat and bone over his shoulder. “We’ll get all this thrown on the bed of the truck and get our asses home, yeah? Worry about sortin’ it out properly when we get there.”

I manage to get the tent into a relatively square bundle by the time Dog’s loaded the deer and our packs into the truck. He lifts my mess and carries it to the vehicle, giving me an unhindered view of his wide back and tapered waist. He’s always intrigued me with his classic all-American look. He’s the sort of pretty boy you could imagine fitted out in football gear, young girls hanging off his every word. Take the leather off his back, and the boots from his feet, and he’d be one of a million attractive middle-class guys.

But he’s not. He’s Dog: an enigma inside and out.

“Ready?” He leans one elbow on the side of the truck bed, using his free hand to push that dirty blond hair out of his face.

“I guess so.” King’s message doesn’t seem to have flustered him too much, but I can tell he’s downplaying how much of a hurry he’s in to get home.

There’s something he’s not saying, and after we broke ground last night, that kind of bothers me. It’s as though he still doesn’t know for sure if he can trust me.

Dog holds my door open as I round the truck to the passenger side. “We could do this again, you know?”

I nod, climbing up onto my seat, and give him a smile. “Hope so. Kind of wish I could stay out here forever.”

“Me too.” He closes the door before I get a chance to reply, rounding the hood to his side. Worry etches the lines on his face, his eyes distant as he climbs in on his side and starts the truck.

He hasn’t said anything about his father other than the relationship to his mother’s death, but I get the sense that whatever it was I witnessed outside his house was just the tip of the iceberg. Dog holds secrets that eat at him day and night, and yet somehow he manages to fool most everyone with his playful, cocky behavior.

I reach across the seat as he pulls onto the road and rest my hand on his thigh. “I wish you’d talk to me about it.”

He glances across the cab as we bump along the rutted road. “I would, babe.” His lips kick up at the side. “But until we get back, I don’t know for sure what to tell you.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt again, is all.” I rest my head against the back of the seat, still watching him. “Your father doesn’t deserve your time if that’s how he treats you.”

“I know.”

“So why do you give it to him?”

He sighs, squeezing my hand beneath his. “Because, babe, even if they are assholes, my brother and father are the only real family I have left. I thought I could cut him off …” He lets his words drift off, squinting a little as he stares at the horizon. “I realized that if I walk away from him, I walk away from anythin’ and everything that might still connect me to my mom. Sounds silly, I know, but if I forget about them, I forget about her.”

“It’s not silly at all.” It makes utter and complete sense. “Just don’t let him sour those memories, okay?”

He chuckles, short and bitter. “He already has.”

Dog focuses on his driving again as we reach the sealed road, a frown in place as he increases speed on the open stretch leading to the nearby town. The minutes pass in silence before he glances over once more, yet this time with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Mel.”

“For what?” I twist my body, tucking my legs up so I face him completely.