Raiders of the Lost Heart(42)

The heat built between their bodies, though. Like that two-inch space between them was a fiery inferno that they were both avoiding, for fear of getting burned. But it took all her might to keep her distance.

“God, it’s loud,” she said, more to herself than to Ford.

But he responded anyway. “You’ll get used to it.”

No shit. Not like it was her first time in a goddamn tent in the rain. But no need to rev the ole argument engine again.

“Camp in the rain often?”

“Used to. I mean, not like a ‘Oh, hey, it’s raining, let’s go camping.’ But more of a consequence of going camping often.”

“Why’d you stop? Camping often, I mean?”

He paused and let out a quick breath. “Addison didn’t like camping.”

Oh.

The silence inside the tent was no match for the rain pelting against the rainfly. Or the questions swirling in her head.

“Why’d you and Addison break up?”

Another sigh.

“Do we really need to talk about this?”

“What else are we going to talk about?”

“We don’t have to talk about anything. We could just go to sleep.” She could hear the frustration in his voice.

“But it’s too loud to sleep.” Outside and in her head.

“I told you. You’ll get used to it.”

“Well, I’m not even tired.” She should have been, given all the physical exertion from the day. But her mind was too wired with Ford close to her. “Are you?”

Nothing. No answer.

And then a simple, “No.”

“Then let’s talk about something.” She turned over to her other side so she faced Ford’s back.

“Now you want to talk?” He flipped onto his back, her breasts now barely a hair from brushing against his arm, and then he looked at her. “Again, you realize you want to talk now that it’s on your terms, right? When I wanted to talk, you blew me off.”

Why did he have to call her out like that?

“Fine. Then go ahead. What do you want to talk about?”

“What’s the deal with you never accepting help? Why do you always have to be the doer?”

Hmm. Maybe she didn’t want to talk. She bit her lip and stared at him, even though she could barely see him in the darkness of the storm.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, straightening his head and closing his eyes, “That’s what I thought.”

He folded his hands atop his stomach as if he weren’t bothered one bit by the fact that they were sleeping together. Could he seriously close his eyes and doze off?

Ugh. He was winning. He might not have been trying to win, but it didn’t matter. He was getting what he wanted—silence. Well, Corrie didn’t want silence. She wanted to talk. And if that meant she needed to be the one doing the talking, then so be it.

“I don’t want people to think I’m weak. Like I’m some featherbrained, helpless chick. I want people to respect me.”

“I’m sure people respect you,” he said with his eyes still closed.

“Not in the same way they respect you. I’m the real-life archaeologist with the tits.”

His eyes opened and he tilted his head toward her, one brow raised. Now she’d gotten his attention. Tits usually did. And that was the problem.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

“What, you mean because of that magazine article?” he asked.

Case in point.

“Like I said. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

“I mean, not that exact phrase, but . . .”

“Then what have you heard? Let me guess. ‘I know a bone she can search for.’ ‘I’d like to uncover her temples at Lake Titicaca.’ ‘Dr. Socorro Mejía, PH Double Ds.’ I know what men say about me, Ford. I’m not oblivious.”

“Hadn’t heard the Lake Titicaca one. Gotta admit, that one’s pretty clever.”

“Oh my God, you’re such an asshole,” she said, shooting up and searching for her shoes.

He sat up, though, and pulled her back. “Hey, hey, I was kidding. You’re always making sex jokes and I thought . . . I thought maybe that would take the edge off. But that was in poor taste. I’m sorry.”

“I make sex jokes because I’m comfortable with my sexuality. Or, I don’t know. Maybe I do it as a defense mechanism. And I talk like that with you and Ethan because we know each other. But I don’t talk about sex or make jokes around other people. I’m not some sex-addled hornball. I do have a brain.”

“I know you do.”

“Really? Well, that’s good to know, because sometimes I don’t think other people do.”

“Corrie, I didn’t ask you to come here because of your tits. I wanted you here because you’re the smartest person I know.”

She paused, letting the atmosphere in the tent reset.

“Do you mean that?” she asked, quietly. She wasn’t looking for feigned compliments. She truly wanted to know—did he . . . did he respect her?

“Of course I do. Honestly, Corrie, the only reason I did well in school is because I had you as my competition, always keeping me on my toes. I had to work a hell of a lot harder because of you. It was kind of annoying, to be honest,” he said, finishing with humor in his tone.