Chapter 5
Kevin cringed at Shanna’s words. He’d completely forgotten about his muttered curse that morning. Truth was, when he’d voiced the self-condemnation, he’d been rolling out of the bed after watching her sleep for far too long as dawn lightened the room. He’d believed she was still sleeping as he gathered his briefs and pants and went to the bathroom.
Problem right now was, he couldn’t tell her he’d been talking about the fact he’d gone and fallen for her in one crazy night. Well, he could, but only if he wanted to get his heart stomped to a bloody pulp. Or bloodier pulp?
Then again, maybe he wasn’t in too much danger if she would’ve let him kiss her earlier. Maybe he should’ve seen where that went instead of backing off out of self-preservation. If they got along half as well as they had that night before they’d burned up the sheets, it would make the week ten times more enjoyable. Add in sex, and yeah, he’d totally be on board with spending a week with that Shanna Rogers. Fun Shanna.
Or a lifetime?
Well, it all sounded great in theory, or Fantasy Land, but right now, she wasn’t even close to that woman, and with his job now on the line, it was a risk he couldn’t take. He needed to get her to cry uncle.
And then she’ll have to quit.
Again, the thought of that made him frown. He didn’t necessarily want her gone, but seeing her and wanting her got harder and harder each day, so it probably would be best if one of them left.
“Clearly, what was I thinking? is still the question,” he quipped as he used his foot to brush at a mosquito on his calf. “Great sex is not worth what comes after, so I’ll do my best to be more professional.”
Her jaw clenched before she turned back to the tent. Kevin swiped up his mostly dry shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he put on his damp shorts, cursing his persistent hard-on as he buttoned and zippered.
A little later, Shanna was still struggling with the tent, and he moseyed over to watch. She pretended to ignore him, her frustration evident in every sharp, jerky movement she made. He noticed her sideways glances every so often, but she refused to accept his earlier offer of assistance. Just like at work, but now out in the woods. She always figured it out, and even if he didn’t understand her obstinate independence, he had to admire her tenacity—among other things.
He tilted his head to get a better view of her toned backside.
After a moment, he reluctantly shifted his gaze. Part of him wanted to let her deal with the tent on her own. Let her figure it out, since he wouldn’t be sleeping in it. Maybe she’d quit sooner if she had to sleep out under the stars with the bugs. But he’d spotted the end of a tent pole section sticking out from the side of a base tarp she’d spread out beneath the tent.
He flipped over the corner and retrieved the metal piece. Shanna’s gaze narrowed in suspicion as he handed it over.
“Don’t look at me like that. You kicked it under before, when you got all huffy about the morning after.”
She snatched the pole and turned back to her project. A moment later, he heard her grudging, “Thanks,” as she fit the missing piece in place.
“You need anything else, just let me know.”
Fading sunlight kissed the tree line across the lake when she finally had the tent secured, a little after seven p.m. Kevin had passed the time by collecting firewood, and then splitting the larger pieces with an ax he’d found hanging on the inside wall of the outhouse.
Having sharpened roasting sticks for his hot dogs earlier, his next step was to start a fire. Hopefully, the smoke would chase away the mosquitoes that had been attempting to eat him alive the past couple of hours. Judging by Shanna’s complete lack of slapping, bug spray had been on her list, not his.
“Campfire’s ready to go,” he said. “You got any matches?”
She glanced over from tossing her sleeping bag, mat, and pillow into the tent. “You didn’t bring matches?”
“I did, but…”
Her gaze flicked toward his things. “Should’ve brought waterproof ones.”
“I’ll know better for next time,” he said wryly.
She shook her head with a sigh, unzipped a pocket on her backpack, and lobbed a small yellow plastic container to him. He caught it one handed, and had the fire going in a few minutes.
“Want a hot dog?”
“What happened to everyone for themselves?”
A smart man would stick to that, wouldn’t he? “I don’t mind sharing.”
“You should. I saw what you have in your cooler. You’re going to need to conserve your resources.”
He drew in a breath through his nose and let it back out. So much for trying to be nice. “Fine. Make your own dinner.”
His hot dog was almost done when she sat down on a log by the fire with a deli sandwich and a beer from her cooler. His mouth watered as he eyed the dark bottle with beads of condensation rolling down the side. Why the hell hadn’t he thought to bring beer?
Halfway through their silent dinner, he said, “We should’ve called Nash’s bluff. We still could, if we both quit and go home together.”
She looked up from her food with a frown. “You’re just trying to get me to agree so you win the bet.”
“No, I’m not.” He wouldn’t mind her agreeing so he could get away from the damn bugs.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t quit.”
Oh, he was well versed with that trait of hers. Always commendable—unless it inconvenienced him. “Come on. You don’t honestly think he’d fire either of us, do you?”
“I’m not willing to chance it after all the work I’ve put in to get to where I’m at. Unlike my mother, I’ve never been fired in my life.”
Interest sparked at the completely unexpected peek into her personal life. By the tightening of her jaw, she hadn’t meant to reveal even that little glimpse.
“Your mother go through a lot of jobs, did she?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She stood abruptly and turned for her tent. “I’m going to sleep.”
Wow. She’d clammed up so fast, if the tent flap were a door, he didn’t doubt she would’ve slammed it behind her. Her forgotten bottle beckoned from the ground next to the log she’d been sitting on, and he checked to find it still half-full.
He stared at the fire and took measured pulls off the beer as he mulled over her response. The resentment in her voice, along with her use of mother, not mom, indicated they did not get along. He’d never wondered about her family life before, but the thought she may not have a happy one made him want to make her happy.
Whoa. Hold up there.
His fingers tightened on the bottle, and he raised it to his lips to drain the rest of the beer. He was more like his dad than he’d thought. At least he could recognize the flaw, though. Before he became a doormat for a woman who was never satisfied no matter what his father did. His mother had raised him to stand up for himself, while his father had kowtowed to every frivolous whim his step-mother demanded.
Shanna was a poster child for expecting things to be done her way. He’d rather die alone than set himself up for that hell.
The fire burned down to bright, glowing coals, and the bugs finally drove him inside his damp sleeping bag. Thanks to the itchy mosquito bites, persistent thoughts of Shanna, and a damned owl hooting it up in the tree above his head, it was a while before he managed to fall asleep.
He woke to another dousing of water—only this time from the sky.