“So you’re saying that because I had faith in my fiancé, you felt you had no choice but to sleep with him to prove a point?”
“God!” Tori exclaims, throwing her head back. “Laney, no. I’m just saying that I knew you’d have to see it for yourself to believe it. That’s all. Cheese and crackers, woman!”
I’m too angry to be softened by the expression—cheese and crackers—that Tori has used all our lives, one that I always loved. At the moment, I have no tender feelings toward her at all. I just feel manipulated. And foolish.
“And now I’m supposed to thank you for sleeping with my fiancé to open my eyes? Well, forgive me if I just can’t muster up any sincerity for something like that.”
I can’t help the bitter edge to my voice. She’s lucky that’s all she’s getting. I jerk my hands out from under hers and sit back in my seat, needing a physical distance from Tori.
“Laney, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I. Didn’t. Sleep. With. Him.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you? When have I ever shown the tiniest bit of interest in Shane? I think he’s a total girl. I like my men manly, you know that.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “But we both know you’ve mistakenly fallen into bed with the wrong guy before.”
Her cheeks turn a little pink. “I won’t argue that, but never with your guy, Laney. Never. I would never do that. I knew you’d be home. I knew if he was the kind of man I thought he was that he’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m just sorry that I was right.” Tori closes her eyes and whispers, “I’d give anything for him to have proved me wrong.”
Suddenly, I feel . . . too much. I feel trapped. Suffocated. I feel tears threaten. I feel stupid and alone and confused. And I feel the need to get out of here.
“Tori, can we, um, can we finish this later? I really need to get going.” I don’t look up as I grab my purse and slide from the booth. Tori doesn’t move to follow me. Or try to stop me. But before I can wheel my cart far from her, she reaches out and touches my arm as I pass.
“I love you, Laney Holt. I always have. You’re like my family.”
I wait until she moves her hand before I walk away. I push my buggy back to the produce aisle, where I left off. Tears are streaming down my face the whole way.
EIGHTEEN: Jake
I give the last strap a tug, tightening it around the bundle of supplies tied to the small bed at the back of the Jeep. I check the other tethers to make sure they’re secure. When I’m pretty confident all our shit won’t fall out in the middle of a mudhole, I turn to Laney.
“Ready?” I ask.
She smiles widely and nods her head. It’s the first time she’s seemed really . . . herself since she got back from the grocery store yesterday. I don’t know what happened, and I’m not about to ask. I’m not sure she’d tell me, anyway. That thing where Laney’s not like most women—the ones who feel the need to spill their guts on a regular basis—works against me in some cases. Like now. I wonder what’s wrong, but I don’t want to give Laney the wrong impression by seeming concerned.
You don’t want her to think you care, you asshole?
I hide my frown as I open the passenger door for Laney. I don’t know why I don’t want her to know that I care. I just know that I don’t. Maybe it’s because caring comes with responsibility, and Laney doesn’t know that I destroy the things I care about. She doesn’t know that I can’t be responsible for her. It’s not just that it’s more comfortable for me. It’s that it’s best for her.
We’re both quiet on the drive up into what we locals call the “mountains.” To those people who grew up around real mountains, these are more like really big hills covered in trees. But for people who live in a state that has a lot of flat land, these are mountains.
When we get to the tricky parts, the areas that travel over stretches of the river and go up and down really sharp inclines, I notice Laney grab the handle above the door and brace her feet against the floorboard.
“Now you know why they call them ‘oh shit’ handles,” I tell her with a grin.
She smiles, but her eyes are wide, which makes my grin that much bigger.
A couple of times I hit a deep spot in the river and it jars us both pretty good. Laney gasps, but doesn’t say a word. She’s just flushed-faced and beaming when I look at her. She’s learning to enjoy the shocks and surprises in any given moment. The thrill of a rush. The pleasure in not watching life from the sidelines. I know she was kind of looking for it when we met, but I can’t help but watch her with a little bit of pride, to look at her when she’s enjoying herself and think to myself that I did that. It makes me happy in some way, in some place I’d rather not explore too deeply. I just know I’m not ready to give it up quite yet. I’m not ready to give her up quite yet. So I’m gonna make the most out of this weekend.
“How much farther?” she asks at one point.
“Maybe four miles. Something like that.”
She once admitted to me that she’d never been camping. I couldn’t believe it. But it seems to be true, if I’m only judging by her level of excitement. And that’s fine with me. I’m excited, too. Just for a different reason. I plan to have as much sex with this woman as I can possibly cram into three days and two nights. I need to start working her out of my system. I need to get this thirst for her under control. We don’t have much time left, and I have to be ready to let her go.
As always, thinking about her leaving is like having a storm cloud settle over my life for a few seconds, which is exactly why I don’t spend too much time dwelling on it. She needs to move on with her life and so do I. Once this is all said and done, we’ll go our separate ways and that’s that.
But still, I don’t really enjoy thinking about it.
Up ahead, I see the clearing come into sight. When we top the knoll, I pull to a stop on one side of the camp and cut the engine. The instant the Jeep’s throaty purr can’t be heard, the sounds of nature seem ten times louder. Birds chirping, water rushing over rocks, the wind rustling the leaves—it’s the most peaceful loud in the world.
I get out and start unpacking our supplies. Laney comes to stand behind me, holding out her arms. “Okay, gimme something.”
I quirk one brow at her. “I’ll give you something,” I say suggestively.
She grins broadly. “I mean give me something useful.”
I say nothing for about three seconds before I lunge for her. She’s ready for me, though, and she takes off across the clearing, screaming at the top of her lungs. It only takes me a few long strides to catch her, and when I do, I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her back up against my chest and swing her like I’m going to throw her. “What was that you said?”
“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she half laughs-half squeals.
“I could’ve sworn there was an insult to my manhood in there somewhere.”
I swing her around again, her legs flying out in front of us. “No, there wasn’t! I just said that I wish I was useful.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” I say, setting her on her feet.
“It’s not my fault you’re old,” she mutters playfully.
“Oh, you really are asking for it.” I turn her around in my arms and bend her back over them, teasingly biting at her throat. She giggles and arches her neck, grabbing at my shoulders with her hands.
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get your attention,” she replies hoarsely.
I lift my head and look down into her face. “All you have to do is look my way and you’ve got my attention. My full attention.”
Laney’s blue eyes are light and sparkly and . . . happy. “And I can’t ask for more than that,” she says softly, staring up at me. She reaches up and touches my cheek with her fingertips, her smile fading into seriousness. “Jake, I . . .”
Like hitting the panic button, her words trigger a marked response in me. “Come on,” I begin, hauling her upright. “We need to get this camp set up before it gets much later. We should be at the river, fishing for supper, in a couple of hours.”
Laney nods, her smile bright once again. Almost too bright, in fact. And I can tell by the way she tucks her hair behind her ear that she’s a little off-kilter.
Back at the Jeep, I hand Laney small things as I unpack them, telling her where they go.
“The way the fire pit is positioned, we’ll put the tent over there,” I say, pointing to the edge of the clearing that backs up to the ravine. I hand her the bound tent and poles. “Just set it over there. We’ll put the cooler and kitchen-related stuff to the right and the two chairs in front of that ring of rocks. Inside that is where the fire will be.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” she says, giving me a sassy salute as she prisses off with the tent.
“That’s a little more like it. I love a woman that knows her place.” Laney looks back over her shoulder and sticks out her tongue at me. “Do that again and see what happens,” I tease. Rather than give me some pithy reply, she just keeps moving.
I watch her as she walks to the place I indicated and lays the tent down then turns to make her way back. She stops to dust something off her shorts, drawing my attention to her amazing legs. I immediately picture them wrapped around my waist, Laney’s head thrown back, her ni**les pointing at the sky, her tight body settled around me, and I wonder what she was going to say. Would she have told me she loves me? Or was it nothing like that at all? Although it would be a disaster for both of us if she had, I must admit that I like the thought of her being mine. All mine. Body, heart, and soul.
But that would be a disaster.
Especially for her.
After the Jeep is unloaded, I get the rubber mallet. We spread out the tent and I start pounding in stakes. Laney helps me when I need it and, otherwise, busies herself setting up the little table we brought to keep food stuff off the ground. Although I can’t hear her, I can tell by the set of her mouth that she’s humming. She does that often when she’s doing something domestic, I’ve noticed. Obviously, it makes her happy. Yet another reason she doesn’t need me in her life. I’m far from domestic.
When the tent is set up, I unzip it and hold open the flap for Laney to crawl inside. I try not to look too long at her perfect ass or think about the fact that she’s down on all fours, the perfect position for me to sweep in and take her from behind.
My dick twitches inside my shorts, so I make a point to think of something else. Anything else.
“Hand me the sleeping bags,” she says before I can duck inside.
I get the two rolls and toss them in to her before I join her inside the little dome. I watch as she rolls them out straight, side by side. Looking at them, I realize that I object. And not for sexual reasons. Chances are, we’ll have sex in dozens of places and not one of them might be inside those sleeping bags. But that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t like the thought of not being able to feel her curled up at my side, like she’s been every night for a couple of months now.
“If you unzip one and lay it out flat, we can zip the other one on top of it and make it a double,” I propose.
“Oh, that’s smart,” she says, moving to do what I suggested. “That way we can share body heat.”
“Yeah, if you say so,” I murmur.
She looks at me over her shoulder and grins. “Among other things.”
“That’s more like it,” I say.
With the bags set up properly, she turns toward me. “Now what?”
I don’t think she’s trying to be provocative. With Laney, I don’t think she ever really tries. She just is. Everything she does is sexy as hell and makes my dick as hard as a chunk of granite. My . . . appetites have always been pretty voracious, but with Laney, they’re even worse. I just can’t seem to get enough of her.
“I can think of so many ways to answer that question, but I guess we’d better get down to the river.”
“Whatever you say, Davey Crockett,” she responds pluckily as she bends forward to crawl past me. This time, I have to grit my teeth as she passes me.
* * *
It’s dark. Laney and I are sitting in front of the fire. She’s between my legs, leaning back against my chest. We just finished our hot dogs. “Those were for an emergency, you know. Just in case we didn’t get much out of the river.”
Laney shrugs. “How was I supposed to know it would bother me so badly? I told you I’d never been fishing. It’s not like Daddy is exactly outdoorsy.”
“But Laney, God put fish here for us to eat. People would’ve starved to death in the old days if the women were like you.”
She tilts her head to one side and looks back at me. Her eyes are big, soulful drops of sky blue that glisten in the firelight.
“Maybe they didn’t go. Maybe their men just brought them back fish filets to throw in a skillet and cook.” She nods as if that explains it all.
I shake my head and sigh. “Maybe. All I can say is thank God for hot dogs.”
She grins and rests her head back against my shoulder. “Thank you for throwing the fish back.”
“I think it’s weird that you’d rather eat Porky Pig than a damn cold fish, but . . .”
“I didn’t have to catch and kill Porky Pig. That’s the difference.”
“You’re such a girl,” I say mildly.