Page 26 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

Lily

After the Marco fiasco, we drove to Georgia where Alex now lives. He’s a pilot who does stunts for shows, movies, and teaches lessons to the wealthy. We don’t waste too much time there. He’s a busy man who didn’t want to give me the time. It was another, “If you want to talk, you have to pay for a class.”

That was enough to remember he’s a self-centered, egotistical jerk who couldn’t see beyond his own needs. Though he broke my heart, I was the one who broke up with him because I couldn’t keep a relationship with a man like him. I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I climbed back into the RV, the disappointment weighing heavily on my chest.

We drove to Fall Creek Falls, the silence in the vehicle broken only by the occasional direction from the GPS and the hum of the engine. I stared out the window, my thoughts a tangled mess of memories and emotions, my heart aching with the remnants of a love that had long since faded.

“I’ll have you know I once survived a whole weekend without Wi-Fi,” I retort, my lips twitching into a smirk as I attempt to untangle a knot in the tent rope, my fingers fumbling with the twisted strands.

Ethan chuckles, the sound deep and rich. “I stand corrected. You’re practically Bear Grylls.”

“Remind me again why indoor plumbing and room service didn’t make the cut?” I ask, holding up what I hope is a tent peg, my brow furrowed in confusion. “So far we’ve stayed in pretty great rooms that have the basics. That’s all I’m asking for, you know,” I add, my voice taking on a slight whine.

Ethan chuckles, taking the peg from me and starting to secure the tent with the expertise of someone who’s made a bed in far less hospitable places. His hands move deftly, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each movement. “Because, Lily, nature is the best room service. Fresh air, stars for a ceiling, and the ground as your bed,” he explains, his voice warm and teasing.

I snort, watching him work, my arms crossed over my chest. “Yeah, and the only tip it requires is not leaving food out for the bears. Speaking of, what’s our bear protocol? Play dead? Run? Offer it a marshmallow as a peace offering?” I ask, my eyes wide with mock terror.

“None of the above. You stand tall, make noise, and slowly back away. No running or marshmallow diplomacy, I’m afraid,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

The tent finally resembles something habitable, and Ethan starts on the fire, his movements precise and confident. I can’t help but admire how easily he adapts to his surroundings, even when he’s so methodical. He doesn’t follow my idea of roughing it, which involves a hotel where the Wi-Fi is spotty, but there’s something undeniably attractive about his self-assuredness in the great outdoors.

“So, former SEAL, do you think this is glamping?” I tease, taking a seat on a nearby fallen log, my legs stretched out in front of me.

Ethan flashes me a grin, his eyes shining like flickering flames as he works on starting the fire. He crouches down, his hands moving expertly as he arranges the kindling and strikes a match, the smell of smoke and pine filling the air. “You could say that. But I’ll have you know, I can make just about anywhere my home. It’s all about mindset. Besides, I’ve got good company,” he says, his voice low and sincere. The fire crackles to life, illuminating his features in the growing dusk, casting shadows across the planes of his face.

“Good answer,” I say, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire spreading through my chest, my heart fluttering in response to his words. “But let’s see if you can handle my version of wilderness survival. Tomorrow, we’re going on a hunt,” I add, my voice taking on a mischievous tone.

His brow arches, a look of intrigue crossing his face. “This entire thing is a scavenger hunt for losers. Are we tracking something else?” he asks, his eyes locking with mine, a silent challenge passing between us.

I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Oh, we’re tracking something else, all right. Something far more elusive and dangerous than any bear,” I say, my voice low and mysterious.

“And what might that be?” Ethan asks, his voice husky, his eyes darkening with a mix of curiosity and something else, something that rouses a spark in me.

“Waterfalls. I heard there’s a great one here. And maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you teach me how to make fire without matches. You know, in case my lighter runs out when I’m trying to light my scented candles back home,” I say, my voice light and teasing, a playful grin spreading across my face.

Ethan’s laughter blends with the crackling of the fire, the sound rich and warm, wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. For a moment, the wilderness doesn’t seem so daunting, the fear and uncertainty melting away in the face of his easy confidence. Maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this—it’s just a day or two before we head to the concert. How bad can it be?

As Ethan turns his attention from the now thriving fire to our makeshift kitchen, I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the assortment of canned goods and packets that make up our dinner menu. “Is this what they fed you in the SEALs? Because suddenly, I’m not feeling quite so adventurous,” I quip, my nose wrinkling in distaste as I eye the cans suspiciously.

He chuckles, retrieving a couple of cans, his fingers deftly working the pull tabs. “Trust me, this is gourmet compared to some of the MREs I’ve had. You’re in for a treat,” he assures me, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I watch skeptically as he begins to open a can of beans, my arms crossed over my chest, my weight shifted to one hip. “Oh, joy. Beans. How ever did you guess that’s my favorite?” My tone drips with sarcasm, but Ethan just smirks, unaffected by my apparent lack of enthusiasm.

“Well, when you’re out here, you’ve got to embrace the simplicity of it all. Beans are a camping staple. Plus, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to spice things up,” he says, his voice low, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

I cross my arms, intrigued despite myself. “I guess nothing can be worse than the soufflé we ruined a few days ago. Dazzle me with your wilderness culinary skills.”

He sets a pan on the grill over the fire and begins to heat the beans, adding spices from a small kit he brought along. There’s bacon, which let’s be honest, is always a good thing, the salty aroma mingling with the smoky scent of the fire. The aroma that starts to fill the air is surprisingly appetizing, and I find myself inching closer, curious, my stomach growling in anticipation.

Ethan glances up at me, a knowing grin on his face as he catches me edging nearer to the fire, drawn in by the tantalizing scent of the food. “Patience, grasshopper,” he teases, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cooling evening air. “It’ll be mouthwatering.”

“I’ll reserve judgment until the taste test. But I suppose it’s an upgrade from raw berries and the fear of accidental mushroom poisoning,” I say, my voice laced with a mixture of skepticism and amusement, my eyebrow arched in challenge.

“Where did you get that? A book or some weird show that doesn’t know shit about camping?” Ethan laughs, his head thrown back in mirth, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rummages through the supplies he bought at the grocery store before we left civilization, his hands deftly sorting through the various packages. “How do you feel about hot dogs? Or should I start calling you Lady Lily of the Gourmet Wilds, who only eats food with at least three syllables?” he asks, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” I retort, rolling my eyes, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face, the tension in my shoulders easing at his lighthearted teasing. “Hot dogs are fine, as long as you’re the one risking singed eyebrows by cooking them over the fire,” I add, my hands held up in mock surrender.

He grabs a pack of hot dogs and skewers two with a stick, handing one to me, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting moment of contact. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Lily? It’s not camping without a little fire-grilled action. Here, you can’t mess this up too badly,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief, a challenge gleaming in their depths.

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