Nervous

Ryder’s blue eyes turn to steel against Katie’s words. He opens his mouth to rebuke her accusation of him not wanting to be outdone by a woman, but suddenly he whirls around, knife drawn, staring into the brush. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He’d felt like someone had been watching him. But just as quickly, the feeling vanished.

Turning back around, he resheaths his knife. “All you’re doing is making me paranoid about a route that I know like the back of my hand.”

He takes a step closer to her. “I don’t survive because I’m neutral,” he counters. “I survive because I either stand up for what I believe, or I walk away. Last night I saw compassion in your eyes. Today I see a hothead waiting for the chance to show off. So now who’s different?”