Covet (Sinful Secrets 3)

“Good and well, but I’m not your buddy, Carnegie.”

“You’re my buddy, Siren. When that fucker—” I point to the stone blocking our exit— “moves, and I get you out of here, you’re going to admit we’re buddies.”

“I thought we were bros.” She’s smirking.

“How do you say this word…?” I spell avocado. Her mouth twists with a smile she kills by pressing her lips together, but she can’t hide the way her eyes tilt at the corners.

“Avocado,” she says softly.

I grin, because she’s saying ah-vo-cay-doh.

“You spend your days throwing balls at grown men, partying with too many women to keep track of, and herding sheep pro bono. I’d say you’re no authority on anything, Carnegie.”

I laugh. “Herding sheep’s not a good enough vocation for you?”

“Sheep herders are the worst sort. I hear they’re perfectly unbearable.”

I nod sagely. “I’m afraid I heard the same thing.”

“How’d you learn that, anyway? Did they teach it at your pretty boy school?”

That makes me laugh again, which makes my head ache. “You calling me pretty?”

She shoots me a fuck-no look—one that’s aimed mostly at my shorts, and I shake my head. “Hell no. I spent a couple summers in the Alps.”

“As a shepherd?”

“As a sheep.”

She smiles, and I “baaah,” and her face falls, and she murmurs, “Baby.”

“That your little fuzzy guy?”

“Fuzzy girl. I wonder if she’s missing me.” She slams her stone into the cave’s mouth again, and her whole body seems to sag.

“I bet a lot of people miss you, Siren.”

“Then where are they?” Tears flash in her eyes. She whirls, stalking over to the sleeping bags. I start toward her, and she flees toward the stream.

The cave is so small—burrow, whatever the fuck—I could be to her in a half-second, but I take my time getting a water bottle from her pack and cross the modest space between us slowly, giving her space.

When I get to her, she’s sitting cross-legged by the little stream, her head bowed, one hand dangling into the water.

Even in the shadows, I can see she’s got her jaw locked as I sit beside her.

“Where are they? Where are they?” She wipes her eyes, sniffling. “What happened? What if it wasn’t a mudslide but an earthquake? Otherwise,” her voice breaks, and she covers her face. “Otherwise, I feel they’d be here. I think they’d have found us. You said you merely ducked and we were in here. So we’re close to surface level.”

I catch myself wanting to scoot a little closer to her, so I lean the other way. “We were, that’s true. I think we’re still close to the surface. We can feel that little breeze around the rock—and even more since I can wobble it a little better, yeah?”

She nods, her mouth tight as she wipes at her eyes. We’re not making great progress, but we’ve made enough so we can feel a little bit of fresh air sometimes.

“Another day or so—” God fucking help me— “I think I can get my hand between the cave’s wall and that rock that’s got us stuck.”

She nods, and a tear glitters as it streaks down her cheek.

“Don’t be worried, S. We’ve got this.”

She sniffs, wiping her eyes again. “My name is Finley. Just so you know.”