A squirrel ran across the path, darting into the thick forest. How far had she walked from the main house? It couldn’t be very far, but Maggie realized that once you’d gone into the trees, the growth was so thick you couldn’t see a single landmark. She’d have to pay attention on this trip or she could get lost looking for a place to pee.
This arboreal forest really is impressive. She stood still, listening for the sound of the water lapping against the shore, a conversation from the cabin, any sound of civilization, but she heard nothing other than the voices of the forest—birdsong, the chirps and cheeping of chipmunks and squirrels, and the rush of the wind through the high branches.
I can’t be that far from the lake, yet I can’t see it or hear it at all. Wow. I wish Mace was standing beside me. Where did that thought come from? Maggie shivered despite the afternoon warmth and the heavy, humid, Minnesota air. I’m just tired. And why would you be tired? Hmm? Yeah, that’s right, that’s where Mace comes from...from the most amazing night of your entire life, you sex-starved dummy. He’ll be in your bed tonight. Want to make him another offer? Maggie shivered again.
No. You’ll do no such thing. Keep your offers to yourself. Yeah, but…no buts. Keep your mouth shut.
Having grown up in a heavily wooded area, Maggie had no difficulty backtracking and making her way along the main trail to the cabin. She decided to take advantage of the fact that Mace and Robert were loading the canoes and the gear. Jeff had apparently been encouraged or coerced into helping out, so that left only Lynn and Patty in the cabin. Now was a good time to get in her last shower for five days, and she didn’t have to risk an audience.
Remember, take your towel.
* * * *
Mace sat in the small chair beside the bed, reading by penlight. He glanced over at Maggie curled up in bed, pretending to sleep. She wore a pair of his boxers and one of his T-shirts. She’d forgotten to pack any pajamas and she’d asked him, red-faced, if she could borrow something. She didn’t want to ask Patty for anything.
Can’t say that I blame her. The woman’s a nutcase.
He watched Maggie turn over for the twentieth time. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She mumbled the word into the pillow and flipped over again, facing away from him.
Mace set the penlight down. He swiveled from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t touch her. His fists clenched involuntarily. It was hard to be this close to Maggie without touching her. “What’s wrong?”
Maggie sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her face was a mere shadow in the dimly lit room. “I can’t…I can’t remember the color of my napkin.”
Mace burst into laughter. “What?”
Maggie pressed her knee against his hip. “Quit laughing at me. I can’t remember the color of my napkin. Weren’t you listening at dinner? Patty said we have to remember the color of our napkin so we’ll know where to sit for breakfast. What color is my napkin, Mace?”
“Oh god, you little idiot. You’re worried about that? I have no idea what color your napkin is. I don’t know what color my napkin is. I wasn’t paying attention to a single word that came out of that woman’s mouth.”
“What are we going to do, Mace? How will we know where to sit?”
Mace laughed again. “We’ll just wait for everyone else to sit down and then we’ll take the two remaining seats. It’s no big deal.”
“No, Mace, it is a big deal.” He could hear how close to tears she was.
“Maggie…” Mace laid her back down on the bed and rolled over her so that he was on the side nearest the railing. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his body, cradling her. “I don’t believe you’re worried about the color of your napkin. What’s really bothering you?”
A quiet sob escaped her. “I don’t…I don’t like these people, Mace, and I have a bad, bad feeling about this trip. Robert keeps repeating that he grew up here, that he knows more about the Boundary Waters than anyone, but no matter how often he says it, I don’t believe him.”
Mace swallowed his laughter. He didn’t think there was anything to worry about, other than the giant annoyance factor that hovered around Robert and Patty like a black cloud, but Maggie seemed really upset. Smoothing the short curls from her face, he pulled her closer. “It’ll be okay, Maggie. I promise.”
She turned in his arms and faced him, her tempting lips close to his. “You promise?”
The urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed him, but he held perfectly still. “Yes, Maggie, I promise.” Unable to stop, he ran the pad of his finger back and forth along her pouting lower lip, wondering if she’d pull away. She didn’t.
“Promise me something else,” she whispered.
“Anything.”
“If something bad happens, you’ll get us out of there.”
Mace looked into her eyes, wondering if she was joking. She was dead serious. “Maggie, I swear to you that if anything goes wrong, I will get us out of there.”
She pulled her hand from beneath the blankets and touched his face with light fingers. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m not usually like this.”
“Like what?” He kept his voice soft, soothing. His hand caressed the small of her back.
She sighed. “Emotional. Weepy. Nervous.”
“I know, Maggie. It’s okay. I think you just need some sleep. We both do. Close your eyes.” He reached over her to switch off his penlight. As he did so, she grabbed his arm.
“I know I said I didn’t want to share the bed with you, but would you mind staying right here? I think I’ll sleep better if you…well…just be careful not to fall over that railing. Maybe keep an arm around me so I’ll wake up if you get too close to the edge…please?”
Mace kissed her forehead. “I’ll stay right here. And I swear I won’t fall over the railing. I’m just shutting off the light. Okay?”
Maggie nodded. With a yawn, she lay back on the pillow. Mace shut off the light and Maggie snuggled against him, reminding him once again of a warm, cuddly, little kitten. When she let down her guard, she could be very sweet. Mace had discovered that beneath the prickly exterior was a very vulnerable woman. After a few moments, he felt her body relax. Her breathing grew soft and even, and he sensed she’d drifted off to sleep. Mace didn’t know if her sudden trust in him was because the situation was crazy and he seemed sane in comparison, or because she was just stressed and overtired, but he didn’t care. It was a beginning.
So what if I have to try to sleep with a raging hard-on? I’ve got her in my arms.
Chapter Eight
The morning dawned cold, wet, and gray. They were out on the water for the grueling forty-minute ride to the drop-off point, the fishing boat rolling sickeningly in the white caps, as the group of four huddled in the middle with the gear to balance the craft. Mace made sure to keep Maggie behind him. Her hair was already plastered to her head and he knew the windbreaker she wore would only keep the rain off for so long.
What the hell is wrong with us, that we agreed to this?
Maggie had been very subdued during breakfast, picking at her food, barely touching her coffee, from the pot of coffee he’d had to wrestle from Patty’s control. He couldn’t tell if she was upset or angry. And if she was, he wondered if she was angry at him. She’d awakened in his arms, one of her long legs thrown over his hip, his erection cradled in the juncture between her thighs. She’d groaned and stretched, rubbing against him, and then seemed to remember where she was, pulling away from him as if she’d forgotten all about the talk they’d had the night before. Before they left in the boat, he’d seen her standing on the redwood deck in a heated discussion with Lynn. He’d wondered what it was about. When he’d asked Jeff, his brother shrugged and said something about Maggie wanting to return to Minneapolis today instead of heading out into the wilderness. Lynn had apparently convinced her to go on the canoe trip.
Despite Robert’s babbling about the weather report he’d supposedly heard, and ho
w the weather was guaranteed to improve by noon, current conditions didn’t bode well for the trip. Even Mace was beginning to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, that there was something very off about Robert and Patty. Robert had gone over the map repeatedly with both of them, talking about distances, landmarks, campsites. As far as Mace was concerned, everything looked alike—twisting waterways and wooded shorelines. Sometimes the exposed bedrock appeared a little different, but to his eyes, that was about it. With the heavy cloud cover, he couldn’t even tell which direction they were headed.
He turned and put his mouth against Maggie’s ear. “Are you warm enough?”
She looked up at him. “Not really, but I’ll warm up as soon as we start paddling.”
“Are you clear on where we’re going? I don’t have a bloody clue where we’re headed.”
Her smile was wan. Shooting a quick glance at Robert and Patty, she whispered, “Weren’t you paying attention to Robert’s multiple lectures? We’re going to a marked drop-off point on the official border of the BWCA, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. We’ll unload this boat, load our gear into the canoes, paddle about a half-mile to the portage…”
“Portage?” Mace interrupted.
“You really weren’t paying any attention, were you? The portage is where we pull up onto the shore, unload the canoes, carry them maybe two or three city blocks over a trail that leads into the wilderness, and then we reload and paddle off into parts unknown.”
Mace tugged his baseball cap down. It kept threatening to blow into the lake. “How far did he say we are paddling today?”
“Eight miles to the campsite, and if it’s taken…” She shrugged.
Mace turned and faced forward again. Eight miles in this wind in that unwieldy Grumman? We’ll be lucky to make half that distance.
Jeff cut the engine and drifted toward a pyramid of rocks stacked on the shore. Glancing back, Mace noticed Maggie rolling up the bottom of her pants and he realized they would have to jump out into the surf and drag the boat into the shallows in order to unload everything. He leaned down and rolled up his pant legs, copying her. He and Robert maneuvered the fishing boat onto the sand while Jeff pulled up the motor. Maggie and Patty carried the gear to shore, stacking it beneath the trees, and waited for the men to unload the two canoes.
As they began to pack the gear into the canoes, Mace noticed immediately that the fiberglass canoe rode low in the water, while the Grumman had a high profile. This is gonna be rough if the wind keeps up. “Hand over some of those packs,” he said to Robert. “We need more weight in our canoe.”
“Nah, I got it.”
“Seriously, man, we need more weight in our canoe. Toss a bag over.”
Robert picked through the gear and, reluctantly, it seemed to Mace, handed him a waterproof bag containing a sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, and a plastic tarp. Mace stuffed it in the middle of the canoe next to Maggie’s backpack. “You got anything else?”
Robert looked over at Patty. “You can give them the stove,” she said, “but the other two kitchen packs stay in our canoe.”
Mace caught Maggie’s eyes. She rolled hers, but she accepted the small pack from Patty containing the single-burner stove and stuck it in the bottom of the Grumman.
Mace and Robert shoved Jeff’s boat into deeper water and Jeff lowered the engine and started it up. He let it idle. “You got your satellite phone?” he called.
Robert stood, staring back at Jeff, a blank expression on his face. “No, I guess I forgot it. But we won’t need it.” He patted the front pocket of his waterproof vest. “I have my GPS.”
“Anybody bring a cell phone?” Jeff asked.
Mace looked at Maggie and she looked at him. “I left my phone in my purse, up in the loft,” she said.
“Mine’s up in the loft as well,” said Mace. For the first time since they’d arrived at the cabin, Jeff appeared disconcerted.
“How will I know when to pick you up? What if something happens and you need to get hold of me?”
Robert waved him off. “Just be here on Friday, late afternoon, say three. That gives us four full days of canoeing. We can get in a short trip on the last day.” Walking through the shallows past Mace, he gave him a pat on the arm. “There are some great places to canoe in the BWCA.” Putting an arm around Maggie, Robert said, “Get ready for the trip of your life.” He and Patty climbed into their canoe.
Maggie looked like she’d just swallowed a bug, but Robert didn’t seem to notice. Gamely, she pointed the canoe in the direction they would be paddling and straddled it, steadying the vessel so Mace could climb in the back. He settled himself on the rear seat, keeping the canoe centered as she stepped in and sat down. “You want your life jacket?”
Maggie turned around and he handed it to her. She tucked it beneath her seat. “We’re staying in the shallows for a while. If things get hairy, I’ll put it on.” Mace followed her example.
The Grumman rode so high they took on very little water, but it quickly became apparent they could not keep up with Robert and Patty. The new fiberglass canoe sliced through the water like a butter knife, leaving barely a wake. Mace and Maggie soon found themselves lagging far behind.
Maggie turned around on the seat. “Mace, you’re going to have to move the gear forward. I’m not heavy enough and the bow is riding too high in the water.”
“Yeah, got it.”
The two of them rearranged the gear, stowing most of it right behind Maggie’s seat. When Mace finally looked up, Robert and Patty had vanished from sight. “Where the hell did they go?”
Maggie lifted her head. “If we stick to the shoreline, we’ll find them at the portage site.”
“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t leave us behind.” Mace began to paddle on the starboard side, Maggie on the port side.
“What’s up with this canoe?” she asked. “Can’t you keep it straight?”
“It’s not me,” Mace grumbled. “It’s the canoe. It lists to the right. I think it’s that dent in the keel.”
“So are you telling me I have to paddle on the left for five days?”
Mace laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Without warning, Maggie swung her paddle to the right. “Switch,” she called out, “and let’s see what happens.”
Mace moved his paddle to port. He completely overpowered Maggie and they turned in a three-hundred-sixty-degree circle. When they finally faced the right way, she stopped paddling and glanced over her shoulder. “This oughta be interesting.”
“Tell me about it,” said Mace. “This thing is a piece of shit.”
The two paddled along the shore, proceeding in fits and starts, struggling to keep the canoe straight.
Maggie’s voice drifted back to him. “Did you happen to catch the reason we couldn’t use the other decent canoe?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope. And by the way, my paddle sucks.”
Mace laughed. “Mine too. Like good old Robbie said, get ready for the trip of your life.”
* * * *
Maggie smashed her big toe helping Mace portage the canoe up the narrow, rocky trail, over the hill, and down the other side. That aluminum sucker was heavy, close to a hundred pounds, as compared to Robert’s high-tech baby, which she figured weighed in at around forty. Mace groused the entire time the canoe was on his shoulders. He protested that he could do it by himself, but he was wearing sandals, the trail was rocky, and he couldn’t see where he was going. She did her best to guide him, but in the end, they both screwed up and the tip of the canoe crashed down on her big toe, before bouncing off a rock with a sickening thud. She managed to keep the cursing down to a low roar until they dumped the canoe into the water, but Christ, it hurt. The bed of her toenail filled with blood immediately.
She dropped down onto a rock, Mace beside her. He grabbed her foot, pulled it into his lap, and pulled off her sandal. “Shit. I am so sorry. It’s my fault. In about five minutes, that’s gonn
a hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Maggie groaned. “In about five minutes? Fuck. Just rip it off now. It’s not your fault. You told me not to help you. Shit, this hurts. Robert must have a first aid kit in one of those packs.”
Mace studied the injury. “I can’t rip it off. I don’t want you to get an infection and we’re going to be walking in a lot of muck. I’ll have to punch a hole in it to relieve the pressure. Hey, Robert,” he called, “you got a paperclip or a safety pin?”
Robert and Patty were repacking their canoe, oblivious of the fact that Maggie was injured. Robert strolled over to them. “Why? What’s up?”
“I need something to relieve the pressure beneath Maggie’s toenail. A paperclip and a pack of matches would do it.”
Robert looked down at her toe. “If the two of you had been more careful with the canoe, that wouldn’t have happened.”
Maggie bit back a nasty reply. Seeing the look on Mace’s face, she put a hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn’t slug the man.
Mace closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “You gonna help, or you gonna stand there and be an asshole?”
Maggie thought his response was quite restrained, considering how much pain she was in and how obnoxious Robert’s attitude was.
Robert stuck both hands in his pockets. Gee, take your time, why don’t you? Is he thinking? Ow, my toe! He appears to be thinking. Must be challenging for him, this business of thinking.
“Patty,” Robert called out. “Unpack the first aid kit.”
“But it’s all the way in the bottom of the…”
“Just unpack it.” Cursing under his breath, Mace interrupted her whine of protest. After a few moments, she handed it to him. “Thank you,” Mace said in a voice cold as ice.
“Oooh, that looks painful,” Patty commented, staring at Maggie’s toe.
Barrett, Julia Rachel - Pushing Her Boundaries (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 9