Sweet Revenge by Christy Reece Page B

would be.”
    “Then stop pissing me off.”
    “You’re too easy.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “If you get angry every time I say something you don’t like, you’re going to be wasting a lot of energy being mad instead of learning what you need to learn.”
    “How am I supposed to react?”
    “Like you don’t give a damn.”
    She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Couldn’t you just try to be more agreeable?”
    “Now, what would be the fun in that?” He threw a towel at her. “Make sure you’re dry. Don’t want you getting sick again.”
    With that slow, lazy walk that Jamie found almost mesmerizing, Dylan sauntered out of the room. Gripping the towel he’d thrown at her, she fought the need to throw the damn thing back at him. He said things to deliberately infuriate her and then chastised her for getting angry.
    From the age of fifteen, Jamie had diligently practiced stifling emotions and not showing her thoughts. On her best days, Aunt Mavis had been manipulative and overbearing; on her worst she’d been downright mean. Jamie had learned to survive by never allowing her aunt to see behind the calm mask she’d adopted. School had been an additional challenge. As the awkward and too quiet new girl whose parents had been murdered, she’d been the talk of the small school, and that had given her even more training in hiding behind a façade.
    So how was it that with a small quirk of his mouth or a mocking glint in his eyes, Dylan could bring out these bubbling, boiling emotions that had once been so easy to contain? She didn’t know the answer, but she had to admit he was right about one thing. She did need to act as if what he said didn’t faze her—like she didn’t give a damn.
    Wiping her face, neck, and arms until they were completely dry, Jamie threw the towel in a laundry basket beside the door. After swallowing the entire glass of water Dylan had put on a table for her, she took a few slow breaths. Anger hadn’t made her breathing any easier. She hated how out of shape she was. Not that she’d ever been an exercise queen, but at one time, she’d been in decent shape.
    How long would it take her to get where she needed to be physically? Though she had no plans to have to fight anyone or run for her life, she knew the possibility of danger existed.
    Fortunately, most of what she planned involved things she already knew how to do. The training LCR was providing would be needed only if things didn’t go as planned. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use these new skills, but having them would give her an extra dose of confidence … and she could definitely use more of that.
    Dylan’s short tour of the grounds had given her a good idea of what to expect once the weather cleared. He’d pointed out several trails, one so steep that part of it had a rope for climbing. There were also three obstacle courses with varying degrees of difficulty. The comment that it’d be a while before she’d be using any of them had been clear. He either thought she’d never be in good enough shape or he expected her to quit. She was determined to prove him wrong on both points. Not knowing what came next was bothersome, but worrying about it would do no good. She would do what she had to do. It was as simple as that.
    With Dylan busy outside, she saw no harm in taking a quick tour of the cabin.
    The gym covered the entire basement level and contained numerous exercise machines, including some she was familiar with and others she’d never seen before. Along one wall, free weights of varying sizes and shapes were stacked. The opposite wall was mirrored, with a large cushioned mat running the length of it.
    She headed upstairs, to the main floor. They’d eaten lunch in the kitchen, which seemed amazingly well equipped, with every modern convenience, including a gigantic freezer. Made sense if they were going to be snowed in for a while.
    Just off the kitchen was a small dining room with an oak table and a large picture