Un-Valentine's Day

Scene 6: Game On!

Her back pressed against the trunk of a tree, Cassie gripped the Tippmann 98 Custom Marker and tried to catch her breath.

Worried that she’d be injured, Noah had decked her out like a bomb defuser. Between the chest protector, long-sleeved blue jersey, camo pants, gloves, two-pouch harness to carry extra ammunition, and goggles—which was really a euphemism for a leatherized helmet with full face mask and visor—she was melting. A drop of sweat trailed down her spine, making her shiver.

Had he dropped her in the middle of a war zone? Almost. She gasped as a paintball splattered against the trunk of a tree two feet from her. Dropping to a crouch, she beelined for the overturned wooden spool, then dove the last few feet to safety as more balls whizzed above her head.

When the bombardment died down, she eased around the edge of the spool and spied Noah belly-crawling in the direction of a large boulder. Thought he could hide from her, did he? Ha! She loaded the hopper, raised the marker, sighted down the long barrel, and pulled the trigger.

Pfft splat!

Bright blue exploded on Noah’s thigh, blanketing the vegetation beneath him. She’d won again. Although she tried to be humble, a grin spread across her face, broadening when he raised his fist and slammed it against the ground. 

Okay, so he was a little pissed. That was new. At GameHard, Noah was known for his ability to keep his head even while being grilled by the company’s CEO.

He rolled over and gripped his leg. A dozen teams were on the field today, and each had a different paint color. It wouldn’t take Noah long to figure out she was the one who’d shot him. But as she watched, he continued to squirm. Why wasn’t he getting up? Had she hurt him? She crept around the edge of the spool, scoping out the clearing before she went to check on him.

As she stepped into the clearing, twin blue balls plowed into him, creating wild patterns on the torso of his red jersey. Indignant, she looked up to see who’d shot him. The park staff had been clear—hitting a downed player wasn’t cool. Her anger boiled over when she spied the shooters, two men in blue jerseys, men from her own team.

How dare they shoot Noah! She pulled up her marker, aimed at the honorless bastards, and fired. Satisfaction warmed her when splashes of brilliant blue paint appeared on their jerseys. The men looked at each other before swinging their gazes to Noah. Based on the paint color, they had to know he wasn’t the one who’d shot them. She ducked behind the cover of the big spool just as they turned in her direction.

She held her breath as they scanned the area. Her team would be pissed if they discovered she’d eliminated two teammates. Whatever. They’d acted like dicks. Of course, she could claim it was an accident, that she was a terrible shot. Well, she could have claimed that if they hadn’t seen her hit the bulls-eye four out of five times during their practice round.

When the men finally turned and left, she let out her breath in a rush and scrambled across the open field to where Noah still lay, writhing on the ground. He’d pulled off his helmet and she could see the pained grimace on his face. Worry wormed a hole in her stomach. “Noah. Oh my God. How bad are you hurt?”

“Charlie horse,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

A smile tugged at her lips. “You had me freaked out. I thought you’d broken something. Here, big baby, let me massage it for you.”

After removing her own helmet, she forced him to stretch out on the ground. Then with strong movements, she kneaded his thigh. Whoa. Those were not the thin legs of a computer geek. The man had quads. Big, powerful, awesome quads. Maybe Noah was a cyclist? A lot of engineers at GameHard rode their bicycles to work. She knew because they walked around in biker shorts all day. Ewww! But given his thighs, seeing Noah in biker shorts might be a rather pleasurable experience.

Noah made a sound in his throat, drawing her attention. “Is this helping?”

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the ground. “Yeah.”

Poor guy. His voice sounded strained, like he was still in a lot of pain. She worked her hands up from his knee, pushing her fingers into the tight mass of his muscles. Suddenly, he sat up and gripped her wrist, pulling it away from his leg. “I…” He coughed and cleared his throat. “I’m fine now. Thanks.”

Hmm... He didn’t sound fine to her. As she stared at him, a wave of color darkened his neck, his cheeks, even the tips of his ears. Was he embarrassed that she’d helped him? Almost of its own volition, her hand lifted to cup his cheek, his short whiskers rasping against her palm. “Are you mad at me? I wouldn’t have shot you if I’d known it would hurt so much.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “I could never be mad at you. Besides, you make a damn fine nurse.”

Now it was her turn to blush. Noah had a way of teasing her, of drawing her out of a funk, of making her smile even when it was the last thing she felt like doing. Someday, some lucky woman would catch his eye and he’d make her happy for the rest of his life. Because that’s what Noah did.

His fingers brushed her lips. She looked up and was shocked to see desire heating his gaze.

Before she could react, something hit her between the shoulder blades, hard. She gasped as the impact propelled her into his arms.