Page 142 of Carnal Wagers

“Have you skydived before?” He tugged me along, the brass of his tone cutting and dismissive.

I grimaced. Was that what we were here for? “You know I have.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I told you I have.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s true, does it?”

I balked and yanked him to a stop.

“What does that mean?” I recoiled at the veracity of his glower. My palms clammed up, and I rubbed the moisture away. “Where is this coming from?”

He shut his eyes. His body reeked of tension, from the strain in the tendons of his hands as he resisted curling them into fists to the muscle spasms along his jaw, which looked tight enough to crack skulls.

“Talk to me.”

“Later. We’ll be late. Hurry up.”

He broke the connection between us with the swipe of his hand, like he hadn’t called me a liar in so many words. He strode forward into the small airplane hangar that had been transformed into a business space, with sofas and chairs on one side and an assembly of gear on the other.

“Are you serious?” I sprinted after him, ready to tackle him to the ground if necessary, only to stop short as three new people came up to meet us.

“Cillian, great seeing you again, and congrats on your certification.” A guy in his late twenties shook Cillian’s hand, a million-watt smile on his face. The other two stood behind him. “And you must be Ms. Marine. A pleasure. Welcome to New Jersey.”

I eyed Cillian, surprised we’d traveled over so many state lines.

“I’m Kevin. I’ll be accompanying you today, double-checking that everything is a go before your jump. You’ll be tandem skydiving with Mr. O’Leary here.”

“No,” Cillian said flatly. “Change of plans.”

I blinked up at him, struck by the coldness in his tone, and rubbed up and down my arm. My gaze wandered over the small group. They shuffled awkwardly in place, but none vibrated in fear. Whatever was going on with Cillian, it had to do with only us, just like I thought. But why?

The man chuckled uncomfortably and clapped his hands. “Right, well then, Ms. Marine, no worries. I’ll be your tandem instructor.”

I forced a smile and greeted him, the pilot, and the videographer. From a quick visual scan of the place, it looked like we were the only clients at the moment.

Any hope I had of a quick resolution to whatever caused this tension between Cillian and me died a slow death between the paperwork and the lengthy safety briefing, each moment filmed and most of it with Cillian’s attention anywhere but on me.

“Okay, let’s suit you guys up.” The instructor clapped. “Follow Molly over by the far wall for everything from jumpsuits to harnesses. If you guys want to change into something warmer first, the bathrooms and locker rooms are through the first door on the right. See you out there.”

Cillian dropped his duffel bag to the ground and rifled through it.

“Here. Catch.” He tossed me a set of thermal pants, shirt, and socks along with a neck gaiter and a pair of gloves. “Packed these for you. Don’t want you getting sick.”

My lips twitched, and I took the olive branch with both hands. I’d dealt with enough moody, powerful men to know that fighting fire with fire never worked, but I was quickly learning that avoiding conflict with a stubborn, hardheaded significant other was easier said than done.

“I didn’t realize you jumped enough to get accredited as a tandem instructor.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you.”

He kicked off his shoes as harshly as he spoke. Then he fetched them back and rammed them against the bottom of a locker.

With a deep breath, I tried again, putting in the effort to dazzle him with sweetness, even though it left me feeling queasy. “It’s impressive. That’s a lot of years of jumps.”

“Thirteen years. Eleven hundred twenty-two skydives so far.”

He spat the words out with the force of a thermite reaction, an aggressive burn that destroyed everything in its path until it died out. I swallowed hard.