He caught her around the waist. Too much more distance, and he might accidentally look. Which would only make her madder—and that wasn’t what anyone needed right now. “You need to cool off.”
Her eyes darted to the river behind him, and she bit her lip. She wanted to go—she needed to go. But would that second nature of hers override what was just a simple, basic need?
“I won’t look,” he said, trying hard to sound like it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “I promise.”
He felt the sigh start low in her chest before it moved up to her eyes. Which just about turned his brain to jelly. Her, right here. No sexless coats. No patients. No Jesse. Just her. She tried to glare at him, but all she could manage was some pitiful version of her normal sneer.
“Fine.” She sounded like she was doing him a favor, but he’d take it. “But I’ll do this myself, thank you very much.”
He stared into those icy blues for a second longer before he scrunched his eyes shut. “You tell me when I can open them again, okay? Just go slow getting into the water. Watch your footing. There’s a little bit of an undertow.”
She nodded. Reluctantly, he let go of her waist and pivoted in the direction of his water cooler. “You need some water,” he called over his shoulder as he fumbled around for a cup.
“I am not going to drink river water. Do you have any idea what kind of microbes or contaminants could be in that stuff?”
He wanted to laugh at her, but he didn’t want to spill the cup he was filling. “Madeline, do you really think I’m dumb enough to drink this straight? I have a purifier system. My water is cleaner than what comes out of your tap, I bet.” Besides, he didn’t think she needed to be worried about the water.
The trickle of water told him the cup was full, while the sound of grunting behind him said she was struggling with those boots. Again. “I’m going to set this on the stump. You come in the water when you’re ready, okay? You need to cool off.”
“What about you?
“I’ll be in the river.” Flinging his towel onto a bush to dry again, he waded in.
She gasped, a quick, involuntary sound. The sound tickled over his nerves like Magic Fingers. Oh, yeah. She’d looked.
The water welcomed him back, the current swirling around his legs as he went deeper. He sidestepped a sinkhole as the cold water hit his groin like a slow-swung sledgehammer, which was just as well. She wasn’t the only one who needed to cool off.
He needed to get his head together right now. He could not even think about thinking with his dick. She’d been in Rapid City. She’d bought that green bag—God only knew how much she’d paid for that.
But more importantly, she’d talked to Karen. Karen, who treated him like a god descending from Olympus. Half the white world treated him like that—some mystic Indian god at whose feet they desperately wanted to worship. Just like Anna. Which was good for his brand image, but bad for his soul.
And now Madeline knew about Anna, about his art—about everything. He knew why she was here. She was pissed. She had merely underestimated the prairie in summer, that was all. As soon as she unwilted a little, she’d probably let him have it.
He could hope, anyway.
His ears looked for him. Over the gentle lap of the river, he could hear her sniff the cup, then take a drink. He heard her swallow the rest in huge gulps. “There’s more in the cooler, but don’t drink it too fast. You’ll upset your belly.”
“I know that,” she snapped. A little less wilted with every second. “If I get dysentery, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
Like this was all his fault. Well, maybe just a little. “I’m not the one who walked a mile and a half during the hottest part of the day, you know.”
She snorted, but he still heard the water give way to her foot. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Which was what again?” The way her bare legs were slicing through his river? The way she’d shiver when the coldness hit the hidden spot between her legs? How hard her nipples would get when they got wet? He cleared his throat and moved deeper into the water, in case she was still looking. She’d made no such promises, after all. “Is that your lack of preparedness for a summer hike?”
“We were discussing why you have a real name that you hid from me. You lied.”
“Rebel is my real name. Albert gave it to me.”
“I don’t understand a damn thing you say.” She waded up next to him, and, despite sounding pissier than hell, let out a deep, satisfied sigh. She was crouched way down in the water, so that it covered everything important but her shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see their round, shimmering softness. “I didn’t say you could look,” she snapped, taking another step into deeper water. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me you’re this big, important artist. I don’t understand how you know things if you don’t have a phone out here, things like when Mr. White Mouse has an appointment or when the vaccine was coming in. I don’t know a damn thing about you.”