Page 37 of Wild in the Woods
“Not happening, Orlando.” He snuffed out the fire. “Get out your fire making supplies. I’m going to teach you. You’re going to practice, and we’ll stay out here until you get three started successfully.”
In the hours that followed, she learned how to use the flint and steel to create sparks and nurture them into flames with the right kindling, which, disgustingly, included a wad of her own hair. Human hair as a fire starter. Who knew.
It was all she could smell as she practiced repeatedly and failed repeatedly. Fox said this was important. Fire and water were necessary for survival. She’d learn all about water tomorrow. He made lunch by pouring hot water into a foil pouch of dehydrated beef stroganoff, which not shockingly, tasted like beefy Styrofoam. By the time she’d created her second successful fire, it was almost dark. She was working on the third, exhausted, hands aching, when it began to drizzle.
And she’d just managed to fan the flames of her third when the drizzle turned to light, sprinkling rain.
“I got it!”
Fox ran a hand over his jaw. “I think I grew a beard waiting for you.”
She playfully smacked his leg. “That was hard.”
Offering her a hand, she took it and let him pull her to her feet.
“Kick it out and step on it. The rain will do the rest.”
She did and they grabbed their things and took the trail back to his cabin. It was warm and comfortable inside. Kicking off her boots, she sank into the kitchen chair as if she’d been on a long journey and could finally rest.
It was the last thing she remembered.
Chapter Fourteen
Therewassomethingsmoothand decadent beneath her cheek, like fine hotel sheets.
Stretching her arms over her head, Lulu took her time waking up and enjoying the lush feel of her body sinking into a prime mattress. When had she gotten back to her hotel? Housekeeping must have changed her sheets because these felt smoother, softer, and less starchy than the ones she had when she checked in. She opened her eyes in the dark and felt for the lamp on the nightstand, but her hand touched empty space. Confused, she tried the other side of the bed with the same result. A familiar scent wrapped around her. It smelled just like Fox, and it was all around her. Smoothing her hands at her sides, she realized that she didn’t recognize the feel of the linens at all. These were soft and buttery like flannel.
Was she in Fox's bed?
Scrambling to recall what had happened yesterday, all she could come up with was the tasty fish, making too many fires, and the lust for him that refused to take a hike. Had she acted on it?
Patting herself, she sighed in relief to find she was dressed. The only thing missing were her boots and she’d taken those off herself. A little embarrassed by her thoughts, she tried to curl her legs but something heavy and warm lay over her feet.
A low, sleepy growl cut through the darkness. Osprey? She reached inside the side pocket of her pants and produced her phone, opened the flashlight app, and made a circle around the room with the light. Sure enough, the dog was curled at her feet.
A light flicked on to her left, drawing her attention. The bedroom door was open, giving her a clear view into the short hallway that yawned into the living room. Footsteps caused the floorboards to creak. Fox walked by wearing nothing but a pair of black pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He stretched his massive arms above his head and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. She shouldn't watch, but she couldn't not watch. Seeing him naked had opened a Pandora’s box of longing to experience the beauty of that again.
"I'm awake," she said loudly.
"I know," he replied from the living room.
"Why the hell am I in your bed?"
"Because you fell asleep at the kitchen table. I don't know if you know this, but you sleep like a dead person."
It had been a major problem in high school because she hardly ever woke up on time. Her neurologist father insisted there was something wrong with her and sent her to specialists. After never ending CAT scans, blood tests, sleep studies and MRIs, they all determined she was just a sound sleeper. To this day, her father refused to believe it. For someone who’d written multiple books on the human brain and had a weekly syndicated radio show, he should be able to understand that. Instead, he insisted she was defective.
"Get up, use the bathroom, whatever you need. We’re heading out."
Bathroom. Yes, a shower! She slid out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cool, wood floor.
"Is a shower part of the program?"
"That's what the river is for."
Ugh.
The bathroom was right off the bedroom. She flicked on the light and looked at herself in the mirror. Holy crap! Her face had lost its plump, heavily moisturized shine. Her mascara had run, and her lips had long ago lost their pretty plumpness from the upscale plumper she used. Realizing Fox only had a bar of soap and a bottle of—oh, no—three-in-one body wash, she opted for plain, cool water to scrub over her face. She found a tube of toothpaste and realized she’d never packed a toothbrush.
