I’d promised Buck I hadn’t and wouldn’t touch her. It had been because of the bro code before that night, then after, Buck explicitly told me to stay the fuck away from her. No screwing around with younger sisters.
Even if they weren’t young or little any longer. Hell, she was… I did the math…twenty-seven and standing half-naked and dripping wet in the old greenhouse we’d converted into a gym.
Indi’s eyes flashed, teeth clenched tight. Besides wet, her skin appeared wind-chapped, but there was no mistaking the additional flush crawling down her neck.
Clenching my fists, I avoided reaching out and wiping away the rain dripping down her cheeks. Back then and even now, one touch, and I knew I’d be fucking ruined. Because her skin would be silky soft against my calloused palms. Sweet beneath my lips. She was spirited and wild, and I knew her passion would have no depths. I’d drown in her.
I would not break a promise to the man who’d bled out in my arms. The man whose death—and actions leading up to it—I was investigating and intended to solve, even if it catapulted me to my own early grave.
It was clear she wasn’t here bent on seduction. Sure, seeing her like this was sexy as hell, but there was no peekaboo lace or sultry looks. No lacy bras in my grasp. She looked like a dunked cat. A gorgeous, perfect dripping cat.
Fuck, now I thought about her pussy. How it might be dripping. I growled.
“Ford Ledger. Still an ass, I see,” she shot back, tipping up her chin and glaring.
I deserved it, and not just for my unnecessary taunt. If I’d had any honor left at all, I’d have gone to the Buchanan house in town or even their hardware store every week to see what I could do to help Buck’s parents. To try to ease their pain and grief over their dead son. But they hadn’t wanted to see me—too painful, his mother had said at the funeral—and I couldn’t face them again, either. What could I say besides their son’s death was my fault. Buck had gotten into something and hadn’t confided in me. Hell, he’d been accused of buying drugs and murdering Abdul Tareen, a local Afghan law enforcement officer looking into the case a few weeks before his death. It wasn’t fucking possible. I knew Buck, and he wouldn’t do that.
Still, he’d been involved in something. And I had been his Master Chief and should’ve known what the fuck had been going on with him. Protected him from the shit he’d gotten into—whatever it was.
No, I couldn’t face any of the Buchanans until I figured out who killed Buck and why. The day he’d died, he’d left the US base without authorization. Yes, he’d gone to meet someone in the village—I didn’t know who. Knowing Buck, there had been a damn good reason. One that got him killed. I intended to figure out who was behind it all.
I took a few steps forward. Not because I wanted to be closer to Indi. Hell, no.
Because I wanted a better look at her face while I questioned her. Not that she required interrogating. She wasn’t on some kind of mission to destroy me. No, it was pretty obvious what happened here.
“Got caught in the storm?” I asked. I was soaked too just from the sprint from the house, but my clothes were staying the fuck on.
She shoved her wet honey-colored hair out of her face and cocked a hip like she was ready to stand her ground with me. In just a shirt.
Which was cute. Damn cute. I was a fucking SEAL. Former fucking SEAL. I did shit for exercise that would kill a regular guy. And she was a tiny slip of a woman in comparison. If she kicked my shin, I wouldn’t even feel it. Although the way she was looking at me, I expected her to aim a little higher.
“Sure did.” She said it like a challenge, lifting her chin at a haughty angle. That cockiness had my dick going rock hard.
I was still having a helluva time not looking down at those legs. Especially with the way she stuck one out at an angle toward me.
“So you decided to break into my greenhouse.”
She shrugged as she glanced around, taking in all the exercise equipment. “Shelter’s shelter,” she explained as if I didn’t know a thing or two about survival skills.
I cocked an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. My t-shirt was damp against my forearms. “Rather than try the house?”
She rolled her eyes like a brat. “Can you blame me? You’re not exactly the welcome wagon.”
Now I was offended. “You think I’d turn Buck’s little sister away in a storm?” I asked incredulously.
She flinched at the mention of her brother—and probably the fact that I’d done just that once before—and I immediately regretted it, but then I was distracted by something else.