“We were,” Lucy managed. “But then I started thinking about how you tasted like a thunderstorm and how they always say that kind of thing in romance novels, and then I lost it. It’sso absurd, right?”
Lucy managed to pull herself upright beside Jonathan. The weight of her pack—and the last ninety minutes—made the movement challenging. Fatigue settled in while adrenaline drifted away with the clouds. She unbuckled the straps and let the soggy bag drop behind her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen.” Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jonathan sounded sincere, even with the slight smile still present.
“I’m pretty sure I started it.” Lucy waved a hand, dismissing his apology. What was the problem? The last thing they should be worried about at the moment was proprieties. Besides, if you can’t make out a little after escaping certain death, then when can you?
“Well, I should have ended it,” he said with a bit more resolve. “It was irresponsible and unprofessional, and you have my word it won’t happen again.”
Was this guy for real? They’d just survived complete catastrophe, and he was worried about professionalism. Either his priorities were way out of whack or . . .
Or he had zero interest in her, andLucywas the one taking advantage in a vulnerable situation. Embarrassment bubbled in her chest, dousing the residual fire she’d felt a moment before. She fiddled with her bootlaces then glanced up and caught him staring intently at her. Shame played over his face.
Time for damage control.
“Itwasterribly unprofessional of you,” she teased, nudging him with an elbow.
“I know, I just—”
“Jonathan, I’m messing with you. You saved our lives, and I got swept up in the moment. Water under the bridge, ok?” She managed a weak smile and an awkward thumbs-up to make herpoint.
Teeth worrying the inside of his cheek, Jonathon mulled over her words. Then, with a head shake and a little snort, he said, “I taste like a rainstorm, huh?”
“Thunderstorm, actually.” She grinned, congratulating herself on diffusing the tension. In its wake, the reality of their situation came flooding back. What the hell were they going to do now?
Jonathan was squarely on the same page because he cleared his throat and stated, “We need to sort out a plan of action.”
All-Business-Jonathan is back in the building, folks.
He reached for the small GPS strapped to the outside of his pack. “Well, fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
He held up the little device. “I must have landed on it, because it’s busted.” He pushed the SOS button a few times then gave up, stuck it in one of his pockets, and pulled out a water bottle from his backpack. Handing it to Lucy, he continued, “It looks like we’re gonna have to rescue ourselves. First things first, we should get back to the campsite and set up for the night. Fire, shelter, dry clothes, food.” He ticked the tasks off on his fingers. “In the morning, once the shock has worn off, we can figure out our next steps.”
Lucy wiped a dribble of water from her chin with a still-wet sleeve. “Woah, wait, wait. We’re spending the night here?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said as he took the bottle back from her and drank.
“But isn’t the car, like, an hour that way?” She pointed in the direction of the disaster they barely escaped.
“Well, it was. Until the landslide decimated our trail. We need to find an alternative route, which will take a lot longer than the few hours of daylight we have left.” He replaced the bottle, stood,and held out a hand to help her up.
You planned to sleep in the woods, didn’t you? How is this any different than what you were going to do anyway?
This was wildly different from the original plan. It would be in the same place, on the same night, with the same person, but it wasn’t the same carefree scenario. All Lucy wanted to do was make it back to her hotel room, take a hot shower, and order room service. It would be nice to call Todd and bitch about the harrowing day she’d had—Call Todd! Her phone!
Like a woman possessed, she reached into the side of her pack and pulled out her cell. A groan, rivaling that of a spoiled teenager, escaped her as she took in the shattered screen. She feverishly pushed buttons, hoping for it to turn on, but the trauma it had endured left it useless. It was bashed and soaked, and she only had herself to blame. She swore to herself that when she bought a replacement, she’d get a case to go with it—definitely the extra rugged kind.
“That wouldn’t work up here even if it was in one piece. Zero cell service.” Jonathan shrugged, still reaching out his hand.
Lucy let out a frustrated huff and considered hurling the phone down the mangled trail but couldn’t bring herself to litter. Mumbling a few choice words, she stuffed the useless brick back in her bag and reached up. Jonathan curled his fingers around hers and pulled her to her feet.
“Look on the bright side.”
“And what’s that?” Lucy asked with a sigh.
Jonathan spread out his arms and gave her a sympathetic grin. “At least it stopped raining.”