Page 28 of Just Act Natural

“I respectfully disagree.”

She makes a dismissive sound, but I go on.

“I’m as big of an outdoors advocate as you’ll find, but even I don’t expect you to like everything you try. Nobody does. You just keep experimenting until you land on something that’s a good fit for you.”

Her mouth has a skeptical slant to it, but she holds my gaze. “What if I don’t find anything? What if I’m just not an outdoorsy person?”

I’m not sure if she’s asking what that might mean for her promotion opportunity or what that might mean for me personally. I can’t say for sure how it would affect her job outlook, but I can say with confidence it wouldn’t affect my opinion of her.

“You don’t have to do anything different. You’re wonderful exactly as you are, princess.”

Her smile lights me up like a firework in the night.

She presses her palms beneath her eyes and nods once. “Okay. Enough mourning the fallen fish.”

I stand and hold a hand out to her. She takes it, and I help her to her feet. “Ready to go back?”

“Meh. Then I’ll just be around everyone else’s dead fish.” A fat tear pools in her eye and slides downher cheek.

I bet it’ll be a while before she’s ready to deal with that. “Need a hug?”

Her eyes brighten. “I would really like that.”

She steps to me, and I fold her into my arms. Whatever I thought about shaking her hand,thisis what will unravel me completely. How perfectly she fits against me, so warm and soft. Her hands pressing against my back, cuddling me close. An overwhelming sense of rightness I’ve never felt before.

She lets go first. I’m not sure it would have ever occurred to me.

“Thank you. For everything.” She smiles again and heads back into camp.

I follow, surreptitiously rubbing my chest. I’ve been so careful not to get burned by relationships again, but Lila’s tempting me to play with fire.

NINE

LILA

I don’t have muchof an appetite for dinner. I can barely look at the others as they savor their fish. Grant abstains from fish, too, the sweetheart. He’d looked pretty excited about fishing…right until I lost my mind when I caught one.

The risotto’s good, though.

We ate later than we did last night, since the meal was dependent on successfully catching the ingredients. The daylight’s already starting to fade by the time the last dish has been wiped, cleaned, and dried. Everyone’s saying their goodnights, and it’s only eight-thirty. I’m physically tired, but my brain isn’t ready to shut off this early.

Only one person hasn’t settled in for the night yet. Grant is sitting in his tent’s vestibule, sort of a tiny three-walled garage, if you will. He’s whittling. I don’t know why, but I love that for him. It’s an incredibly old-mannish thing for such a strikingly virile guy to do.

Virile, yuck. I never use that word. Still fits him.

“This is how you don’t go insane from boredom, isn’t it?” I’m standing to the side of his tent in my nighttime clothes, not quite ready to zip myself into my cocoon for the evening.

“Every little bit helps.”

“Do you have a spare knife?”

He looks up at me. “Do you want to give it a try?”

I shrug. “Why not?”

“I don’t have a spare knife, but you can use this one. Come here.” He scoots over until he’s right up next to the tent wall, leaving me just enough room to sit on the floor of the vestibule.

I fold myself down next to him, only moderately mortified by the smells that must waft off my body after hiking for two days straight. He demonstrates how to use the knife on the block of wood he’s holding, and I swear I try to focus. But he’s got really great hands. Strong and long-fingered, they monopolize my attention.

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