Free Bulletproof Princess by Alexis D. Craig Page B

not so much it whispered of vanity, and an interesting set of tattoos that started on one pec and slid down his side and across his nicely-developed shoulder and down to beneath his heavy-looking silver watch. Normally that wasn’t something she found attractive, but Mack made it look more than a little enticing.
    Realizing she had crossed the line from ‘observing’ to ‘leering’, she figured she should probably make herself known. “Hey,” she breathed as she sank onto the lounge next to him. Turning to face the same postcard-perfect view he appeared to be enjoying, she found the view to be nothing short of spectacular: across the azure pool to a palm-lined walkway that led, eventually, to what looked like it might have been a stable, and further on beyond the foothills of the mountain.
    Mack didn’t look up from his reading. “You sleep okay?”
    “Fine, thank you.” The words felt stiff on her lips, and though she tried to attribute the heat in her cheeks to the setting sun, some of it was definitely from her earlier perusal of him and now being close enough to touch. Making a show of stretching out before kicking off her shoes and settling in to enjoy the sunset, she asked absently, “So where are we?”
    From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head toward her and resisted the urge to meet his gaze. “My parents’ house.”
    That much she knew, but something Ange said had been poking at her curiosity. “On Jefferson Peak?”
    “Yes.” He didn’t sound agitated, but she felt a fine tension kick up between them.
    Figuring she’d go for broke with her supposition, she offered, “Named for your family, I assume?” She couldn’t imagine buying a whole mountain, but folks in her circles bought islands with an alarming regularity, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. When he nodded, she shifted over on her side to face him. He watching her with a look on his face like he expected…something, she wasn’t quite sure what. “So then where is ‘here’ exactly?”
    He didn’t answer, searching her face for a moment before turning back to his reading. “We’re outside Phoenix by a couple hours, and maybe twenty or so miles from Winslow. Just south of the Navajo Nation.”
    Cassie resituated herself in the lounge chair, watching the strips of clouds try on new colors as the sun inched closer to the horizon. Winslow, Arizona. Her mind ran with it immediately and before she knew it, she was humming a song her dad used to play for her when she was very small.
    Mack chuckled softly. “Yes. Like the Eagles song.”
    If she didn’t know better, she’d think he sounded impressed. “Jackson Browne wrote it.”
    “I’m aware,” he replied with a smile. Yeah, she could tell he was definitely impressed, which pleased her enormously.
    The sun continued its leisurely sojourn to the horizon, and they sat in relative silence except for the lapping of the water against the stone edge of the pool or the occasional cry of a bird. Her first curiosity allayed, more had queued up to take its place, ranging from reasonably benign to horribly inappropriate. “So…what do you do?” She shifted in the seat again to find him with his tablet set aside and a raised eyebrow. “I mean, when you’re not rescuing damsels in distress?”
    Mack’s light eyes narrowed, even as the corner of his mouth kicked up into a smirk. “I get paid to rescue damsels in distress.”
    His non-response amused and piqued her at the same time. “I see, so then, since you’re not technically on the clock, does that make me a hobby?” Her mind cringed as soon as the words left her lips, but she was not going to back down now.
    The smirk he’d tried to squelch bloomed full force, lighting his grey-green eyes up with devilry. “Not quite. Poker’s a hobby. Surfing is a hobby. Hookers might even be considered a hobby. You…” he looked up at the faint contrails crisscrossing the sky as he searched for his word, “You