He flashed his teeth again.

“So you were the baby of the family.” She ran her fingers over his back, aiming for impersonal. She rubbed at the build-up of blood and dirt. Reddish-brown soap bubbles trailed down his spine, soaked into the top of his low-slung jeans. Her throat closed at the sight of the bloody gash in his shoulder. A hand-span lower and the bullet would have killed him. No Finn. The thought of it had her tearing up once more. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine.”

“Got some hard evidence to the contrary back here.” Her voice wavered. Damn it.

The look he gave her over his shoulder made no sense but it froze her in place. Finn held her gaze for a long moment. And then turned away. Said nothing.

She had no idea what it meant. Her hands hovered, hesitating, waiting for enlightenment. He kept his face averted. “Finn?”

“We should eat soon.”

“Okay,” she agreed, letting it drop.

He nodded. Mission accomplished apparently, whatever the mission had been.

She couldn’t read him for shit. Then again, she’d always been clueless when it came to the other sex. Men were complicated.

Straightforward one minute and riddles the next. It irked the crap out of her. In the face of her new upfront and open frame of mind, she wasn’t letting it go after all. “Finn, what was that?”

“What?”

“The look.”

“Nothing.” His tone of voice firm and flat.

Okey dokey. Apparently she hadn’t grown enough to chase it down. Awkward feelings flooded her.

“It’s a good thing you had antibiotics,” she said. An innocuous enough topic, surely.

“Got the bag of wonders.”

“Yes.” She offered him a smile. He looked over his shoulder and almost returned it. The corner of his mouth hesitated at the last.

“Your bag of wonders rocks, I must say.”

“Personal preparedness. I was a Scout.” He braced his arms on the edge of the basin and dropped his head forward. She scrubbed at his back and neck, gently pushing her fingers into solid muscle. “Can you do it harder?” he asked.

“Sure.” She dug in, keeping a safe distance from his shoulder, wanting to soothe, not harm. From her, it was the least he deserved.

“Where was your family?”

“Down south. We grew up on one of the Northern Beaches, running wild half the time. I don’t know how Mum put up with us.” The strong column of his neck tensed beneath her fingers. The warmth in his voice when he talked about his family made her heart ache.

They had obviously been close, something she had never quite managed.

“How long have you been with him?” he enquired. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, I don’t mind. Only a couple of days, though it feels longer. Things work differently now, don’t they?”

“Times of war, the rules change.”

“War … I guess that’s one way to put it.” Her eyes bored into the back door. If she stared long and hard enough then magic might happen. Bullshit. Daniel would make it. He would.

And what the hell would he see when he walked in? Her fingers flinched back from Finn, covered in suds. “Wet the towel for me so I can clean you off, please.”

He did as asked.

“So, do I want to know what you saw when you were watching us?”

“I don’t know, Al. Do you?” He watched her over his shoulder, something akin to amusement lighting the pale green of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched.

The tease.

“No. No, I don’t. Forget I asked.” Heat swept her face. He handed her a wet cloth, and she washed off his back as careful y as possible, sopping up al of the gray suds. “Can I get to the water, please?”

“Let’s see … You two fight. A lot.” He turned to face her, blocking her way with his arms crossed over his chest. “Opposites attract, I guess.”

“That would be it.”

“Sucked when I dropped the night-vision goggles. Smashed the lenses. I had to go by guesswork after that …”

Her jaw fell. “You did not have night-vision goggles. Pervert.”

The elegant face gave away nothing. He was fibbing. Had to be.

Suddenly a dimple flashed, he shrugged his shoulders. “Be fair. Without TV what was I supposed to do for entertainment?”

“Aren’t you funny?” She bumped her hip against his. “I know you’re lying.”

“Do you?”

“Yep.”

“Alright then. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable about any lewd, unnatural acts I might have witnessed.”

“I think I liked you better without a sense of humor.” The clean, if threadbare, hand towel would do fine for washing them off. “Turn around, please.”

He did so without further comment. Thank God.

And he couldn’t have seen anything. Jerk.

With gentle strokes, she washed off his back, wary of touching his wound. “You’re good to go. Got more bandages?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about your back?”

“I haven’t been shot lately.”

“I’m not trying anything, Al. Let me wash your back. Consider it a stress remedy.”

“Wow, that offer isn’t dubious in the least. I’m fine.”

A sly sort of mirth lit his eyes. “Are you? Or are you … a chicken?”