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her condescending pats on the back, and he didn’t try to hush her. He just held her in a secure hold, not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to let her know she was safe and that he didn’t care about what she looked like or the snot on his vest.

“I’ll get you home, Ens.” He cleared his throat. “I promise. I’ll get you home.”

18

Little Missouri River (1885)—Ensley

Ensley woke the next morning to the mouthwatering aroma of fish sizzling on the cooking stone. Was she dreaming? She partially opened one eye to see JC squatting next to the firepit, making a cup of dandelion coffee.

JC’s hair was perfectly rumpled, and his jaw was attractively stubbled. The sharp planes of his chin and cheeks gave him a Herculean, chiseled, and battle-weary look that had no resemblance to the immaculately dressed, high-priced DC lawyer who often showed up on the society pages of The Washington Post and New York Times.

She didn’t move or speak. She just watched him. He didn’t acknowledge her or even seem aware that she was awake.

He poured the dark liquid into a cup, retaining the roots to simmer for a refill. She expected him to take a sip, but instead, he extended his hand and offered the cup to her. “I know how much you like coffee first thing in the morning. This is the best I can do to satisfy your caffeine addiction.”

She yawned. “How’d you know I was awake?”

“Your breathing changed.”

“Was I snoring?”

He grinned. “No. Your eyelids fluttered when your optic nerve took in the morning light.”

She yawned as she sat up to take the proffered cup. “You had to be staring at me to notice that.”

“Nope. Peripheral vision.”

“Peripheral vision can’t see fluttering eyelashes.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Nope.”

He flipped the fish and rotated the rabbit. “This is a protein-rich breakfast, but you should eat one of the MREs for the fat and carbs.”

She scrunched up her face. “Yuk. I heard those things are awful.”

A frown etched over the already hard line of his jaw, and while the expression probably would’ve tempted most people to tuck tail and run, it didn’t faze her. “You’ve been living off fish for almost two weeks, and you’re complaining?”

“I guess it sounds like it, but…instead of an MRE, how about I eat the protein and supplement breakfast with another energy bar?”

“I’m not going to force-feed you.”

“Good.” She sipped her coffee, and it tasted so much better than hers. “Did you put something in here? It tastes different.” She smacked her lips. “I’d say cinnamon, but surely you didn’t pack spices.”

“I roasted the roots, then added a pinch of cinnamon and fennel seed. And yes, I travel with a mini spice tin. If you add a pinch of this or that, you can eat almost anything.”

“I’ll remember that for the next time I’m abandoned in the wilderness.” She sipped, enjoying the cinnamon taste while watching his efficiency of movement. Even when he ran marathons or competed in equestrian events, he always held his form throughout the course.

“You’re staring at me. What’s on your mind?”

“I was just wondering what happened last night. The last thing I remember, I was doing an ugly cry on your chest.”

“You fell asleep. I figured you were exhausted, so I didn’t wake you up for dinner. I ate the rabbit and caught another one for breakfast.”

“You ate the whole thing?”

“The whole thing. Getting you through an ugly cry took a lot of energy. I worked up quite an appetite.”

Surprisingly, she wasn’t embarrassed about crying all over him. She glanced up at the sky and was surprised to see that it was way past sunrise. “It was great to sleep deeply again.”

“It’s hard to sleep well when you have to stay alert.”

“Funny. But I don’t remember being afraid at night. I guess my survival instinct didn’t sleep.” She carefully sipped to avoid swallowing small pieces of the dandelion roots.

JC forked a portion of the fish, placed it on a plate, and handed it to her.

She lifted the plate and sniffed…lemon pepper? “I’m glad you’re here, and not because you made coffee and fixed breakfast, but because I don’t have to figure this out all by myself now. If I wig out again like I did last night, just pull my circuit breaker.”

JC chuckled as he handed her one of the rabbit’s crispy backstraps. “It wasn’t so bad.”

She peeled off the crunchy skin and gnawed on the bone to get every bite of the meat. “I almost got furious with you for coming to rescue me and losing the brooch, but how could I get mad for something I did myself? And besides, nobody can stay mad at you longer than twenty-four hours. Even the women you broke up with always became friends later. You’re too much of a charmer.”

“I’m Elliott Fraser’s son. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty-eight years, it’s how to take control by charming my adversary.”

“Are you saying you use your charm to manipulate people?”

He tossed a bone into the firepit and pulled off another backstrap. “I use it to benefit my clients and my causes.”

“I hope I’m not one of your causes.”

He gave her a cheeky, brows-up stare. “Come on, Ensley. You know what I mean.”

She forked a bite of fish. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t be paranoid.”

“Don’t be a jerk.” She shoved the fish into her mouth and chewed.

He made a T with his hands. “Time out. What’s really on your mind this morning?”

She sighed. “I just want to go home.”

“And I want to get you home, but I can’t manage it today. In the meantime, we’d better devise a backstory…like who we are, why we’re here, and where we’re going. You have any ideas?”

“We can copy TR and be Easterners here to hunt bison. That’s believable.”

“But what about you and me? Who are we? We can’t be traveling around the country just as friends. We have to be married or brother and sister.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a mature single

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