Chosen by Denise Grover Swank

as he studied her, then dropped his hand. “I have one in the back.” Walking past her, he opened the gate to the bed of the truck and hopped in.
    “Keys?” he asked, reaching out his hand.
    They were in her hand, out of habit, and she handed them to him over the side.
    Emma leaned her arms on the truck side and watched him lean over and unlock the metal box attached to the back of the cab. He opened the lid and Emma stood on her tiptoes in an effort to see its contents.
    “You do know that curiosity killed the cat?”
    “A cat has nine lives. I’ve still got a few left.”
    “Princess, after spending the last twenty-four hours with you I suspect you’ve used them all.” He rummaged in the storage box and pulled out a first aid kit and a couple of bottles of water.
    She walked to the end of the truck bed and waited for him. He sat on the open tailgate door, legs hanging over the edge.
    “Thirsty?” He handed her a water bottle and opened his, taking a long drink.
    “I’ll look at your forehead first.” She put the water bottle down on the tailgate and opened the small first aid box. She paused, studying the contents of the box. “Will, what do you really do for a living?”
    His silence hung in the air and it surprised her when he answered, “I told you, I’m a computer consultant.”
    Emma fingered a stack of band-aids. “Who happens to carry around a full assault rifle? And can fight off half a dozen armed men?” She shook her head and glanced up at him. “What do you really do?”
    He studied her, all teasing gone. “What does it matter, Emma?”
    What did it matter? Tomorrow they would reach South Dakota and part ways. She knew she should be cautious of a man she hardly knew driving around with a truck full of guns, but he’d proven he was on her side. And Jake said to trust him.
    “Why would your risk your life for us? You don’t even know us.”
    He took another drink of water before he answered. “All that honor and duty crap. You know.”
    “Damsel in distress?”
    “Yeah.”
    Emma climbed up into the truck bed and knelt beside him. She opened her water bottle and poured some on a gauze pad from the kit. “I need to clean this.” She began to gently wipe dried blood from his cheek.
    “I’m tough. You don’t have to be so careful.”
    “No reason to be rough either.”
    He looked at her from the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow. His voice lowered huskily. “Maybe I like it rough.”
    Emma got a new gauze square, doused it in water and dabbed his face. “Why do you do that? Why do you pretend you’re such an asshole when you’re really not?”
    Will’s hand jerked up and grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her flesh. His eyes penetrated hers. “Don’t underestimate me, Emma.”
    Her gaze held his, her arm still in his grip, gauze on his cheek. The moonlight cast shadows across his face but allowed enough light for her to see emotions vacillate in his eyes. Anger, surprise, fear. Fear . What did Will have to be afraid of? Emma realized he was uncomfortable, but he refused to turn away so she broke away first and looked down. “Got it.”
    Releasing her arm, he grabbed his water bottle with both hands, twisting it back and forth in a barely perceptible movement.
    Emma continued to wipe the blood closer to his cut. “Does this hurt?”
    “No.” His tone was gruff.
    They had actually been getting along. It disappointed her that their truce seemed to be over. “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For helping us. For saving us. Thank you.”
    He closed his eyes and let out a slow, ragged breath. Obviously she upset him, but his reaction was far from what she expected. Sarcasm, yes. Hostility, no. Will’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he seemed to wrestle with what to say. Finally, he opened his eyes.
    “You’re welcome,” he choked out.
     

    What the hell had just happened to him? He never lost control, always kept his cool, yet he practically snapped her arm off,