Men of Courage: Trapped! / Buried! / Stranded!

Her cheeks turned pink and she shrugged. “Maybe I don’t remember, either.”

Ethan slowly stood to approach her. “Oh, if I’d kissed you, Rosie, believe me, you’d remember.”

She squared off, facing him like a prizefighter with her hands on her hips, legs braced. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

He jutted his chin forward to match her stance. “Because I’m a damn good kisser.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s true.” He reached back to nudge Riley with a fist. “Ask Riley, he knows.”

Riley almost fell off the bench. “What are you talking about?” His voice rose to a shout when Riley almost never shouted. “I sure as hell haven’t kissed you!”

“Excuse me?”

They all turned toward the front door, and there stood the redhead from the night before. Her glorious hair—Ethan did love the color—was piled on top of her head in loose, very feminine disarray. She wore a pale green, knee-length skirt with a crisp white blouse and very high heels. An enormous satchel was hooked over her arm.

Great, Ethan thought, just great. He needed this like he needed a four-alarm fire.

Much provoked, Riley stood and immediately shouted, “I have never kissed Ethan, swear to God.”

Rosie moved with the speed of light to position herself in front of Ethan.

Ethan started to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. He was still a little hungover, still very confused by Rosie’s recent offer, and horny as hell to boot. Could his life get more muddled?

“It’s true,” he confirmed. “Riley is as macho as they come. Hell, he’s so macho he has hair on the soles of his feet.”

“I do not.” Riley turned to glare at him. “And don’t help me, all right?”

Biting back his smile, Ethan said, “By the way, Riley, I was talking about those twins who wanted to double date, remember? The one told you I was a great kisser and she wanted to test you out to see who was better?”

Riley’s frown lifted, a smile started and he said, “Oh, yeah.”

The redhead looked beyond confused, on the verge of bolting. Her apparent nervousness kept her shifting her feet and twisting her hands. “Are you open?”

Obviously dismissing Ethan and his memories of the twins, Riley looked her over, crossed his arms and said, “I could be.”

Clutching her satchel, Red said, “I need to learn some self-defense.”

Riley cocked a brow at that, Rosie scowled and Ethan felt mired in guilt. “Good God, I didn’t assault you, did I?” He never should have gotten drunk. He never should have…

“No, of course not.” Her green-eyed gaze darted to Rosie, to Ethan and back to Riley. Her slim brows puckered in a suspicious frown. “Am I interrupting?”

“We were just about to leave.” Rosie took Ethan’s arm and tried to drag him behind her.

He planted his feet and refused to budge. “If I bothered you last night, I am sorry. I don’t usually drink like that.”

Red’s smile was distracted when she forced herself to look away from Riley. “You were fine,” she assured him. “Mostly you just talked about a woman.”

Ethan groaned. He felt moronic enough already, but, God, if he’d been waxing poetic about Michelle, he’d have to leave town.

Rosie elbowed him hard to show her displeasure. He grunted, caught her lethal pointy little elbow so she couldn’t inflict more damage to his ribs and said to Red, “Again, I’m very sorry. You should have shoved me under a table or something.”

“I didn’t mind.” Red’s expression softened. A small smile teased her mouth. “Actually, I thought it was rather sweet that you’re so obviously in love with her.”

Ethan stiffened, embarrassed and outraged. “I am not in love with Michelle.”

“Michelle?” Red frowned and again looked around at each person in the room before settling back on Ethan. “But…I thought her name was Rosie?”

CHAPTER THREE

ROSIE DID HER BEST to hide her grin as she turned off the Crock-Pot and dished up heaping bowls of thick stew. She’d gotten home half an hour ago, quickly showered, then changed into cutoffs and a T-shirt. She’d barely finished before they’d arrived.

All of them.

She sneaked a peek at Ethan and felt her heart patter in excitement. He sat at her small round dinner table, behaving like a surly badger, but at least he’d shown up.

He hadn’t wanted to. He’d even refused—until Riley suggested to Rosie that they could do a little more practice after they’d eaten. Ethan had immediately changed his mind about dinner, and Rosie was starting to hope that jealousy motivated him.

Just as she finished serving the stew, the bread machine dinged and she carefully removed the hot loaf to a cutting board. The men were all sniffing the air impatiently. Harris even smacked his lips together, making her laugh.

“Ethan, will you pour everyone something to drink? And get the butter out of the refrigerator.”

He grumbled an incoherent reply, then fetched a tea pitcher and began filling glasses.

Riley took a long drink and said, “Did you know that Red is a reporter? She was there last night to do a story on Ethan.”

Ethan froze with the pitcher poised over Buck’s glass. “Oh, shit.”

Rosie dropped the large carving knife, almost removing her big toe.

“Hey, be careful there.” Riley frowned at her.

She snatched up the knife and rinsed it in the sink. “A reporter? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nah, but she’s different from a lot of them. She’s real sweet. She said she realized Ethan was drunk, so she’s going to contact him for another interview.”

Buck nudged Ethan to get him to pour the tea, then peered at Riley. “You like her?”

“Yeah, sure. She’s a jumpy little thing, and her imagination is a bit much.”

Rosie hated the idea of the woman being alone with Ethan. She wouldn’t tolerate it, not since she already knew Ethan found her attractive. When she interviewed Ethan, it would have to be with Rosie present to protect his virtue. “What’s wrong with her imagination?”

“She has some goofy notion that people are out to get her. She’s a little paranoid, if you ask me.”

Harris began buttering a thick slab of bread. “What’s her real name?”

Grinning, Riley said, “Get this. It’s Regina Foxworth.” He laughed. “And she is foxy, but ‘Red’ suits her better than Regina.”