Page 35 of Love By a Landslide

“Rivers?” Lucy asked, perplexed. “Why not rivers?”

He shrugged, took another swig of beer, and silently cursed himself. He wished he hadn’t mentioned it, but it slipped out before he could think.

“No, really. You can’t just say that and give no explanation.” Lucy turned fully toward him and wrapped her hands around her knees. She leaned in. “Is it because you can’t swim? Is it fish fear? Honestly, I’d freak out a little if a fish nibbled on my toes too. But you run a guiding company, one that hosts white water rafting. How could you possibly not love being out on a river—”

“Because that’s how my wife died,” he snapped, instantly regretting his tone.

“Oh.” Lucy turned back to the fire and studied the blazing logs. “Sorry I pushed.”

He felt like a tool, especially since he’d been the one to bring it up. Of course she was going to ask for clarification. “No, I’m sorry for being so gruff. You were just curious.”

Silence stretched out awkwardly. The blackness of night crowded around the camp; the only thing keeping it at bay was the crackle of the fire. It was getting late, and they had a big day ahead of them. Sleep was crucial, and Jonathan was more exhausted than he had been in averylong time. “I think we should turn in,” he suggested.

Lucy looked up at Jonathan as he stood and nodded. She rose to her feet beside him, and they retired for the night.

Chapter nineteen

Lucy

Lucy awoke from a dead sleep with a start. She had to pee. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and burrowed deeper into her sleeping bag. Still wearing her joggers and hoodie, she was cozy as could be and wanted to keep it that way. Maybe she could make it ’til morning. She willed her body to hold it for a few more hours.Mind over matter. Mind over matter.The last thing she wanted to do was venture into the frigid night and drop her drawers, but her bladder couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

With a frustrating grumble, she wiggled out of her blissful cocoon and snatched up her jacket. After unzipping her tent flap, she stepped out and put on her flip-flops. The campsite was shrouded in complete darkness aside from the stars peeking through the trees. Jonathan had completely extinguished the fire prior to going to bed, so there wasn’t even a red glow from leftover coals. The moon must have been behind a cloud or low enough that a nearby ridge obscured it because Lucy could barely make out her own hand in front of her face. Fortunately, she had packed a headlamp, and a flip of the tiny switch illuminated a path to the designated privy.

Lucy had never peed faster in her entire life. She desperately wanted to be back in the comfort and safety of her warm tent and out of the menacing shadows. Hurriedly, she pulled her pants into place and stepped toward her tent. A branch snapped behind her.

What the fuck was that?

She whipped around and snatched her headlamp off her head, holding it for better control. Breathing as quietly as possible, she scanned the brush. She was convinced that whatever animal was out there—a cougar or sasquatch maybe—could hear her thunderous heartbeat as clearly as she could in her own head. But there were no other breaking twigs or scuttling steps through the bushes. The remaining sounds of the night slowly invaded Lucy’s ears, calming her panic. She allowed herself to focus on what she could identify: the babbling brook, a gentle wind rustling leaves overhead, frogs croaking, and crickets chirping. Nothing out of the ordinary there. The air rushed out of her mouth in a relieved sigh.

“Sasquatch?I’m creeping myself out,” she mumbled, shaking her head at the silliness of the situation.

As she shifted to turn and head back to bed, her headlamp caught the glint of two bright, yellow eyes. They were four feet off the ground and trained on her. Seized by fear, her scream pierced the air. She begged her feet to move, to retreat to the tent that probably wouldn’t keep the gigantic beast out. She pictured its claws ripping through the cheap polyester as ravenously as she ripped into the foil packet at dinner. That’s it. She was done for.

Suddenly, something warm and solid wrapped around her middle and hauled her around. Her shriek broke off as she realized Jonathan stood between her and the dangerous creature. He held a small hatchet in one hand and a bright flashlight in the other, scanning the woods she’d been facing. Rigid and steady, he looked like a warrior braced for battle.

Lucy quivered behind him, reaching her hand around in front to point. “It was over there! Two yellow eyes. It’s enormous!” she gasped, unable to contain her fear.

His light settled on the eyes, which were steadily moving toward them, lowering as they went—crouching down, preparingto lunge at its prey. The closer it came, the smaller it appeared. Eventually, Lucy could make out bristly brown fur, a long bare tail, and a wiggling pink nose.

“It’s an opossum,” her protector grunted as he let out a breathy sigh. They watched as the critter, curiously undisturbed by all the screaming and blinding light, turned and trundled its way back into the woods. Jonathan turned back around, shoulders tensed, flashlight angled so Lucy could see his handsome yet perturbed features. “Damn it, Lucy. You scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was trying to murder you.”

The terror quickly faded, and she cracked a smile. Then came the laughter—hysterical and riotous—rivaling the volume of her earlier scream. Laughing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. Jonathan stood there, waiting, arms crossed over his chest. As she slowly gained her composure, she apologized.

“I’m so sorry. It must have been up on a log or something because it looked so damn big!” She bit her bottom lip and worked hard to keep from renewing the fit of giggles. She felt absolutely ridiculous for reacting the way that she had.

“Opossums are vicious. You’re lucky you made it out with your life,” he drawled.

Lucy took a deep breath, finally in control of her ridiculous outburst. It was then that she noticed the state of her protector. He stood before her in nothing but untied hiking boots and a snug pair of black boxer briefs. Absolutely nothing was left to the imagination. A black-and-grey-toned mountain scape adorned half his chest, trailing along his left shoulder and arm, stopping at his elbow. He appeared solid but not bulky like a bodybuilder. Instead, his beautifully sculpted form was clearly cultivated by years of physical activity. Hiking, climbing, building log cabins with his bare hands . . . He was gorgeous. All Lucy could do was stare, opening and closing her mouth like some idiot who couldn’tthink of anything to say.

“Ahem.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “I do believe my eyes are up here.” He pointed two fingers at his face, a scowl lazily draped across his lips. She could have sworn she saw the slightest uptick of a smirk.

She blushed again. “Shit! Sorry, I was, uh . . . still in shock or something.”

“Or something is right,” Jonathan mumbled under his breath.

He stepped forward so they were nearly toe to toe, crowding her space and wrapping her in his familiar masculine scent: cedar and laundry detergent, now with a fresh hint of sweat. It was intoxicating, and she was once again unable to control the movements of her body. Instead of stepping back, she looked up. His pupils edged out the deep amber of his irises, leaving only a slim ring around each one. His muscles tensed, breath ragged. Glancing at his mouth, Lucy’s lips parted reflexively.

Jonathan slowly transferred the hatchet so he could hold it and the flashlight in a single grasp. Then he raised his hand, sliding it up her elbow, and settled it on her upper arm. Heat and electricity conducted through her entire body—tits to toes—as he squeezed gently.

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