Page 28 of Wild in the Woods
The woman nodded as if trying to figure this whole thing out. Then she waved a dismissive hand and smiled. “Sorry, it’s just that Fox goes out of his way to avoid interacting with women that aren’t in his family, so this is a bit out of character for him. I guess, I was a little hopeful that maybe he’s coming around.”
“Maybe he’s gay,” Lulu said though she didn’t believe it for a minute. They way he’d looked at her lips and the stroke of his hand against her arm were not the signals of a gay man.
“Oh, oh, no. He’d tell us if he was. Fox just has–”
“Issues.”
The woman laughed. “I was going to say reservations, but I think your answer is more appropriate. Anyway, I’m Allie Mitchell. Nice to meet you and sorry to make things weird. What can I get you.”
“Black coffee, please. And a gluten-free blueberry scone.”
She appreciated how Allie washed her hands before plucking a scone with clean tongs from the dedicated case. Gluten cross contamination could leave her hugging the porcelain throne for hours.
She paid for her things, thanked Allie, and went outside only to find that it was now overcast. So much for the beautiful morning. She’d learned a lot about Fox simply by talking to people who knew him, without prompting or questioning anyone. It was starting to come together in her mind, this image of him and the story she could create to go with it.
But she wasn’t here to write about just him, she needed to learn about the business, too. Tossing the gummy worms in the trash, she walked a few blocks to the outfitters shop. She’d looked through the list of acceptable gear she could bring with on Fox’s website but decided to upgrade a bit. Olive was supposed to meet her soon and help her. First, she had to break the news to her editor that she was going to need a few more days.
She dialed her editor Clint Basham and to her shock, he actually answered.
“What do you have for me, Orlando?” Never one to mince words, Clint was about as cut and dried as you could get.
“I’m going to need another week. I’m going to participate in one of Fox Mitchell’s survival courses so I can get a look from the inside.”
“Don’t fuck around, Lu. Is he giving you a story or not?”
“Yes. It’s why I’m doing the course. He wants me to have a first-hand look.”
There was a long pause. “I’m sending Rudd out there. Don’t do anything until he gets there.”
What?
“No. Clint, I’ve got this. I can–”
“Do you even own a pair of shoes that don’t have a four-inch heel? Have you ever walked on grass that isn’t manicured? Come on, Lu. This is a man who climbs Angel’s Landing in his sleep and scales Everest before suppertime. I sent you out there to sit him down at a nice restaurant and get a story about his adventure shit. Not break a nail and ask me for hazard pay.”
For the first time in a long time, tears hit her eyes. Is this really the way people thought of her? Like she was some pampered princess?
“I’ll send Rudd. He can do the hard part while you do the interview. You can share the byline.”
Fuck. That.
“I’m heading out at sunrise tomorrow. He’ll never get here in time. I’ve got this, Clint. I promise.”
She was about to end the call when he shouted, “I’m not approving any crazy charges to your expense account!” He hung up.
Closing her eyes, she put her phone in her pocket and took a long, deep breath. She could do this. No one believed in her. No one. Well, she’d had enough. She’d do this, no, she’d crush it, and show them all what she was capable of. The last thing she wanted was Rudd coming out here and taking her story.
This would be good for her. Really, how bad could it be?
Feeling slightly better, she inhaled warm, fall air, and lifted her face to the sky.
Just as the clouds opened up and drenched her in rain.
Chapter Eleven
LuluparkedherridiculousFiat outside his house at the crack of dawn.
Fox observed her from his window through the glow of his porch lights as she got out and grabbed a giant hiking pack from the back seat and struggled to heft it onto her back. It was the wrong size for her body, and much too full. She’d probably gone to Henry’s Outfitter and got talked into every outdoor gadget a person would need for a comfortable, enjoyable camping experience—Henry’s favorite sales pitch to city people with too much money and too little experience to know better.
