Page 15 of Semi-Reckless

Her hands went to her hips. “Why would I have taken off on foot in this direction, at night, with nothing but a machete and a spunky attitude if I knew we’d be hiking that far?”

He scowled at her. “I guess I forgot you can’t read a map for shit.”

“OK, that’s just rude. I screwed up that one time. It was an honest mistake.”

He didn’t see the need to remind her that she’d led the team twenty miles into the middle of nowhere because she’d been trying to read the map upside down. He’d, of course, taken the blame for her because he hadn’t wanted to make her look bad in front of the team. Harper and Benny called him Wrong Way Roan for a month after that. All because Haven hadn’t wanted to admit she had no idea what she was doing.

Like now, it would seem.

“Besides,” she went on, “It’s not like I was born in Ye Olden Times when map reading was necessary. I can get directions to anywhere on my phone.”

“And how’s that working for you out here in the middle of fucking nowhere?”

Her lips pursed in consternation. “Well, maybe you could come up with a helpful suggestion if you weren’t so busy being a grumpy, smoking asshole about everything. Go ahead. Give it a try. I’ll wait.”

As she tapped her foot in an exaggerated way, giving him that pointed stare of hers, he really wanted to throttle her. He’d never wanted to throttle her more.

But he didn’t.

He’d never hurt her. Spank her like the little brat she was, sure. But hurt her? No. Never.

Aaannnddd now he was thinking about spanking her, which was taking his thoughts into an entirely untenable direction.

He cleared his throat. “Since I can’t teleport you anywhere?—”

A sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss escaped her, but he ignored it. “—we really only have two options at this point. We can go back the way we came, and head out toward the mine again at first light?—”

“I’m not going back,” she snapped. “We’ve come way too far for that.”

“—or I can teleport back to the car, grab your go bag, and we can set up camp for the night in the clearing. We’ll get some sleep, and head toward the mine whenever we wake up.”

Roan was ready for her to say no to Plan B as well. After all, there were only two things Haven hated more than camping. (Cottage cheese was one, and the fact that TV shows had moved to a model where they only put out six episodes every two or more years was the other.) Typically, she’d do anything to avoid sleeping on the ground with bugs, snakes, and other things that might crawl into her hair.

So, imagine his surprise when she gave him a sharp nod and said, “Do it.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. They were going camping.

Haven had been taught to always carry an impeccably packed go bag in her car. In fact, he probably thought she didn’t notice, but her dad checked her tire pressure, fuel levels, and the state of her go bag before she drove anywhere—even around town.

So, when Roan grabbed her comically large hiking backpack from the car, she knew there was technically enough in it to survive in the woods for a couple days—sleeping bag, flashlight, trail mix, protein bars, a water bottle that contained a filtration unit, boots, a change of clothes, extra socks, sunscreen, a camping pillow, and a down jacket.

But now, as the temperature dropped and the heat of the campfire was barely doing anything to cut the chill, she was wishing for far more than mere survival.

Why hadn’t anyone made her pack a tent? A battery-run space heater? An inflatable bed? A bug zapper? Some fried chicken with gravy, buttery biscuits, and creamy mashed potatoes?

They’d set up camp about an hour ago under the cover of a copse of spruce trees just past the clearing. Now, with her back against a tree trunk, huddled into her jacket and sleeping bag as deeply as possible, she watched through narrowed eyes as Roan stretched out on the ground on the opposite side of the fire, hands under his head, looking like one of those freaks who just lurved camping and all the fresh air that came with it.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no.”

It probably would’ve sounded more convincing if her teeth weren’t chattering. But she’d be damned if she was going to admit she was miserable. Especially since camping had been her choice.

A choice she was deeply, deeply regretting at the moment.

She couldn’t hold back a little squeal as a giant beetle skittered across the bottom of her sleeping bag. Argh!

With a growl, Roan stood up and marched towards her. She felt him staring down at her. Don’t look at him, she ordered herself. Be strong!

---