I’d known better than to pull something so stupid, but in my defense, I’d been so exhausted I couldn’t even think straight. Score 1 for nature and 0 for Adam.
“Mom and Peter are waiting at the trailhead so we have a ride.” She smiled. “Let’s go get you something to eat. A big juicy hotdog, maybe? You are no more than a few miles away from the little restaurant in Yosemite Village.”
I almost drooled at the mention of a hotdog. I threw her a dirty look and she laughed. “Or maybe you’d prefer a big juicy hamburger, or—” I snaked a hand around her waist and rubbed my whiskers against her neck. She wriggled against me, dropping the backpack.
I pulled her into another long kiss. Her lips were soft, open to me, and even through this thick beard, every contact of our skin was electric. My tongue darted out to taste her and she sighed, her hands sliding up to clamp around my neck. This close to the trailhead, the path was busy with hikers—those simply going down for an hour or two, not just dedicated idiots like me. Heads turned, but I didn’t care who saw. I cinched her to me, refusing to let her go—as if she might vanish like a mirage.
After I fed my face I was going to have to feed a hunger of a different kind…She stepped back, breathless, flushed. “You’re going to have to lose that beard if you want to get lucky, mister.”
Under my beard, I smirked. She didn’t sound very committed to that. I bent and snatched up the pack before she could grab it again and she rolled her eyes at me, muttering about my muleheadedness.
“C’mon. There’s a hamburger or three with my name on them,” I said.
***
Goddamn that burger tasted like heaven—like the most delicious thing I’d ever shoved in my piehole.
I couldn’t stop groaning about it, either, which led to Emilia and her mom, Kim, watching me with concerned frowns. Emilia had driven the four hundred miles from Southern California with her mom and my Uncle Peter to meet me at the end of my hike from hell. Much as it was nice to see them, I would have preferred to have the time alone with Emilia—once I took care of more essential needs first, like eating and bathing. And sleeping in a real bed.
“He’s eating like a Neanderthal,” Emilia whispered to her mother. “Do men usually regress while in the wild?” Amusement danced in her golden-brown eyes. Just to mess with her, I groaned even louder and shoved the last third of the burger in my mouth all at once.
Kim grinned. “Don’t worry. I don’t think it’s permanent. Once he’s back in his man-lair, he’ll be guzzling beer and watching Darth Vader on Star Trek in no time.”
Emilia and I both turned to her, aghast at her blatant error—every nerd’s nightmare. Kim held up her hands in surrender. “Kidding!”
Peter chuckled and shook his head as I began to cram the french fries in my mouth as fast as I could. He eyed me cautiously. “Want me to get you another burger? You’ve got to be starving after Yogi stole your picnic basket.” He glanced at my plate. “Next one’s on me. You’re looking kind of scrawny. Starting to remind me of your high school days.”
I glared at him. Well, that was below the belt. I didn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds in high school. Peter got up and went to the counter to make his order.
Emilia pulled out her cell phone to look at the time. “I’m going ask the concierge at the hotel to see if I can get you an appointment with the barber.”
I looked at her with mock hurt. “What—you don’t like my new look?”
She grinned. “Is that what you are calling it? You have food in your beard, Grizzly Adam.”
I shoved another handful of fries into my mouth and groaned. “Damn, that’s good!”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “You’re gross.”
“Bo Shuda!” I cackled through my half-eaten food in my best imitation of Jabba the Hutt.
She rolled her eyes. “Gee, now I want to kiss you…”
My eyes went to her lush lips. I was kissing her the second I brushed my teeth. After the next burger—or maybe two. She’d just have to deal with the beard.
After I ate, I checked into my room and collapsed onto the bed. We were staying at the Awahnee Hotel in Yosemite Valley—once the playground of famous celebrities during the first part of the twentieth century. Now it was a luxury lodge for those who cared to visit the park, but who didn’t care for the inconveniences of camping. And—as I’d spent the previous five weeks either sleeping on the ground with the bugs or hanging in a tent hammock—I was ready for a little luxury.