backpacks in front of him. He had opened one and was methodically going through the supplies, apparently double-checking the contents against a mental list.
“Mind if I get something to drink?”
He shook his head, not bothering to look up. “There’s bottled water in the fridge. Grab me one, too, please. We need to start hydrating before we set out.”
Rebecca headed into the kitchen, noting it was just as tidy as the bathroom. No dishes cluttered the sink, and aside from a coffee maker, the counters were bare. She opened the fridge, half-expecting it to be empty. But it was stocked with a variety of fruits and vegetables, along with a gallon of milk, some juice and a few condiments. There was a full six-pack of beer shoved to the back of the shelf, which told her Quinn wasn’t much of a drinker. She found the water and grabbed two bottles, then headed back into the living room.
Quinn was packing up the first bag and as she walked over, he zipped it closed and reached for the second pack. He hesitated a brief second, then opened it and began the inventory process again.
“Everything okay?” she asked. She settled onto the rug across from him and took a sip of water. She felt her eyes grow wide as he pulled an impressive assortment of gear from the small bag.
“Yep.” He cracked open his own water bottle and took a healthy drink. “Just double-checking everything before we set out.”
“Do we really need all this stuff?” There were ropes, a flashlight, a small pill bottle containing cotton and a few matches, a first-aid kit, some kind of strange-looking tube, a small shiny square wrapped in plastic and many more items she didn’t recognize. She reached for the flashlight, flicking it on. “We’re not going to be out at night.”
Quinn reached over and took the light, turning it off before setting it back on the floor. “You never know,” he said. “Better to have it and not need it than the opposite. I’ve seen too many hikers get into trouble because they thought they could skimp on safety.”
“Fair enough.” She wouldn’t ask a fellow agent to go into a raid without a bulletproof vest, and the feel of her ankle holster was a reminder she’d made her own preparations for this hike. She couldn’t really blame Quinn for doing his job properly.
Even though it meant her back would ache the whole trip.
“It’s not as heavy as you think,” Quinn said, apparently reading her mind. “If you pack it properly so the weight is evenly distributed, it’s not that bad. The heaviest thing you’ll be carrying is water, and that will get lighter as we go.”
“If you say so,” she said, unable to keep a note of doubt from her voice. Given the amount of gear Quinn was shoving back into the bag, Rebecca didn’t see how that was possible. But he sounded confident, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
For now.
She watched him inspect each item, then place it back into the bag. He worked quickly but competently, and Rebecca was surprised to find she enjoyed seeing him work. His hands sported a warm golden tan from time spent outside, and there was a light dusting of hair on his wrists. His long fingers moved nimbly, and she was suddenly struck with a curious desire to know how his hands would feel on her skin. The errant thought sent a burst of warmth through her limbs, and she shifted, trying to ignore the feeling.
It’s just a physical reaction, that’s all, she told herself. As she’d noticed during their first meeting, Quinn was a handsome man. It was only natural her body would respond in kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to act on this attraction. A shiver went down her spine as the faces of the two victims flashed in her mind. Both women had been redheads, just like her. And just like Quinn’s wife. How would he respond once they got out on the trail? His reaction would tell her a lot about his connection to these murders.
But even if Quinn hadn’t been tied to the investigation, she wasn’t ready for a relationship again. She’d tried to date a few months ago, figuring that by a year after Brandon’s murder she should make some kind of effort to connect with a man. But her heart hadn’t really been in it, and her efforts had stalled after a few lackluster dinners. Rebecca didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, but she wasn’t about to force herself into a relationship just so she could check that box.
Quinn got to his feet and she rose as well. He handed her the smaller backpack and she slipped it over her shoulders, surprised to find he was right—it wasn’t too heavy.
“Wow,” she said, tugging a bit on the straps to adjust the fit. “It really isn’t that bad.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Is this where I get to say ‘told you so’?”
“If you must,” she replied, smiling a little.
He stepped to the side, checking how the bag sat on her back. When he faced her again, his eyes burned with a naked longing that nearly stole her breath. Then he blinked and the emotion was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
Rebecca swallowed, unsure of what to say to break the silence between them. Quinn studied her face, as if comparing her features to a memory. Rebecca bore his scrutiny silently, part of her not wanting to interrupt this strange moment. There was an undercurrent of sexual tension between them, but there was something else, too, something she couldn’t quite identify buzzing under the surface. How long would this last? How would it be resolved?
Finally, Quinn bent and picked up the larger bag, slipping it onto his back. His movement broke the spell, and Rebecca let out her breath in a quiet sigh. “How long do you think this hike will take?”
He shrugged. “It’s about seven miles, round-trip. A few hours at least, depending on our pace.” He slipped into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later, his arms laden with more water bottles. “Here, let me get you loaded up.”
She turned away from him, offering him access to the bag. The pack grew heavier as he inserted the water bottles, but it was still bearable.
“Want me to put yours in?”
Quinn shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” He slipped off the bag and added the water. “Ready?” A flash of sadness crossed his features, and Rebecca realized with a jolt that she must be wearing his dead wife’s bag. They must have gone through these preparations countless times before setting off together; no wonder Quinn seemed a little off. Seeing another woman wear his wife’s gear must be difficult for him. Rebecca could only imagine how she’d feel if she saw someone wearing Brandon’s jacket or favorite tie.
She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Quinn, take me back to the feed store. I can buy my own bag.” She didn’t want to torture the man, for God’s sake.
He shook his head with a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. Really,” he added, after seeing her face. “That’s silly for you to spend money on something you’ll never use again. Besides, Ashley would be glad to know her gear is getting used.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Rebecca reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, wanting to comfort him in some small way. “I’ll be careful with it,” she promised. It humbled her to know he was entrusting her with this memento of his wife. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same with something that had belonged to Brandon.
“I know.” He jerked up one shoulder and emitted a short laugh. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Rebecca swallowed. “I’ll earn it,” she promised. She wanted him to know she understood the magnitude of his gesture, knew how hard this must be for him. “My fiancé was murdered almost two years ago,” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could think better of it.
Quinn’s eyes widened and his mouth softened. “My God,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “It’s okay. I just wanted you