Page 62 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“And you don’t need to know yet.” My voice joined the birds singing and the bugs chirping and the whistle of wind drifting through the leaves all around me. For the first time in weeks, genuine peace settled over me.
Hopefully, Bennett had more luck catching something for us to eat than I had. I’d dug up a few freshwater mussels and gathered some lichen so we’d at least have a little something for lunch today if Bennett struck out as well.
I was quite the sight, carrying my pole, a dented pail I’d discovered lodged under a log (now filled with our lunch), the jacket I’d shrugged off when the sun made its first appearance, a camera strapped around my chest, and another one on a selfie stick in front of me.
I trudged up the hill and around the copse of trees hiding our small meadow, stopping in my tracks at the sight that met me.
Bennett Hunter Forrester.
Trying his best to kill me completely dead.
He’d shucked his shirt off and sawed a log he’d set up between two X-shaped stands. His back was to me, and I could see the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he pushed and pulled the saw back and forth. The subtle expansion and contraction of his muscles from breathing heavily was mesmerizing. His golden skin glistened with sweat. He’d pulled his hair back into a bun, which put his firm, whiskered jawline on display. And he was whistling one of Lia Halifax’s songs. Her new one about velvety lips.
“Oh boy,” I said under my breath, but of course, the camera was going to catch everything. Bennett. My reaction. Maybe eventhe sound of my heart thumping wildly, since my chest camera was resting right above it.
This wassogoing viral. How could it not? Bennett was fantasy personified. A sexy woodsman. I didn’t know that was a very specific thing I was attracted to until this moment. Bennett sweaty, his muscles straining, the rhythmic back-and-forth pulling of the saw, his body taut then relaxed. It was alluring. Hypnotic.
He set the saw down as the log split into two, and then wiped at his brow with his forearm. His arm flexed as he—oh no. He grabbed a bucket of water and dumped it over his head. Water sluiced down his back and arms in rivulets.
Dead. I was dead.
My mouth watered.Thiswas why they called them thirst traps.
I leaned against a tree, my knees suddenly weak. I’d never felt like this before. So restless. So ready to fling myself into his sweaty arms and wrap my legs around his waist and?—
Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
I blinked away the image and grasped for reason.Anyreason.Anylogic. Scientific, if possible.
Bennett removed his hair tie, shook his hair out, then ran his fingers through it, not helpingat all. My temperature shot up a few degrees. Almost like I was getting a fever … almost as if …
I wasovulating.
Thank you, science.
My knees grew even weaker with relief. I’d read that ovulating can make you feel all hot and bothered over simple things, like your teenage crush engaging in manual labor. Shirtless. With a bucket of water nearby.
Terrible timing. Seriously.
I tried to do the math forward from the first day of my last cycle, but Bennett was too distracting. It was the only explanation, though.
I jumped in place to encourage my spicy organs back into serene, vanilla behavior. “Are you guys seeing this? Or is it a berry-induced mirage?” I said to the camera, my voice unnaturally high, as I fanned myself.
Bennett spotted me with a huge grin that made my stomach feel like I’d gone upside down on a roller coaster. “Hey, beautiful!” he called, and I swear, Iswear, my ovaries perked up at the endearment. What happened to champ? “I hope with my whole soul you have lunch in that pail.”
Act normal. Act cool. Act like you’re not one surge of hormones away from climbing him. I held up the pail, unaffected and calm. Actress of the freaking year. “Have I got some good news for you.”
25
BENNETT
For the last week, we’d worked nonstop to build our shelter and gather food. So far none of my hunting traps had caught anything, and I’d been too busy preparing a sturdier shelter to go bow hunting. Luckily, Charlie had caught four fish so far, and there was a steady stream of mussels, lichen, and berries we could collect every day.
The good part of all this hunger and exhaustion was that I collapsed into the sleeping bag beside Charlie every night and fell almost instantly asleep. No extra energy to think about her body pressed to my side all night long. The cool skin of her feet brushing mine. How she curled into my back when she got cold, sending goosebumps down my arms. The way my heart thumped when puffs of sleepy breath brushed against the bare skin at my neck.
Nope. Not a zero speck of energy for all that.
I liked to save those thoughts for all day long, like a gentleman.
