The sun suddenly disappeared, and Joss looked up to see Shep standing in front of her. Water bottle in one hand and blue cloth in the other, he hunkered down and pushed her knees apart. He grunted what she assumed was unhappiness.
Without a word, he wet the cloth and proceeded to clean the abrasions that ran from her knees to a couple of inches below her vagina. At least her shorts had protected that.
Shep was thorough, so thorough that Joss’s terror receded, being replaced with something just as instinctual. He pressed the wet cloth against every inch of her damaged skin, sometimes angling his face so close to her thighs that she could feel his breath. Which only created a tingly pain that had nothing to do with her reddened scratches.
Did he have any idea how erotic their current position was? Or that her body was responding to his closeness? When he blew on her skin, presumably to dry it, Joss almost skyrocketed off the log.
“Damn,” Moody chuckled. “Now that’s a bang hole shot.”
Joss looked up to find both camera operators recording the scene from different angles. One over Shep’s shoulder, getting what had to be a straight-on view of her crotch. Moody was grinning lecherously, as if Joss had stripped off her shorts and panties and given him a bang hole shot.
6
For the span of breath, Shep went still. Not a threatened-animal still, but a poised-predator still. Then, without a word, he dropped the cloth and Joss caught it. With his hands in tight fists, he stood and stalked toward Moody.
Puck gave Joss a quick you’re-gonna-be-fine lick and trotted to catch up with his owner.
“You are an asshole. You may host this show, but that doesn’t give you license to be a dick. Apologize to her.” Shep didn’t seem to realize the cameras were still rolling as he just grabbed a handful of Moody’s shirt and jerked the shorter man to his toes.
Oh, my. This… this was Devil Divine.
Joss’s already humming hormones turned into a frenzied flash mob.
And why were women still programmed to get a sexual thrill from a blatant show of male domination? If Joss’s thighs hadn’t stung so badly, she would’ve crossed them to soothe the sudden ache between them.
She was hot for an untamed wilderness guide. A man who had nothing in common with her world, with her. Hell, he’d admitted he didn’t even like her music.
But as Chris, one of her bandmates, had always said, “The twat wants what the twat wants.”
Undoubtedly crude. Also inexorably correct.
“He’s delicious, isn’t he?”
In her trance of unexplainable attraction, Joss hadn’t realized Lauren had sidled up next to her. “A little rough around the edges, for sure,” Lauren continued. “But that’s excellent in bed. In public, not so much.” Lauren tilted her head to one side and studied the arguing men. “He’s different. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s just a little… off.”
Joss wasn’t about to divulge what Shep had explained to her earlier. “You just think he’s off because he hasn’t tried to lure you behind a tree and nail you against it.”
Lauren’s laugh was genuine. “Thanks for the idea. I’ll definitely put that on my list. My original thought was some juicy action in Deadman’s Creek. But I’m flexible.”
“Don’t mess with him, Lauren.” Joss had no idea if Shep found Lauren attractive or not, but she knew enough to realize the woman would treat him like a dildo and then walk away. A man from a small town might not understand a Venus flytrap like her.
“Oh, my. Does someone else have her sights set on him?”
“No, and that’s not what we’re out here for.” She avoided Lauren’s knowing gaze by tending to the scrapes on her arms. “Surely even you can go without getting all your itches scratched for a few days.”
“Well, well. Thumbelina is taking this whole show seriously. You actually want to win this thing.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Maybe not. You’re competitive, I’ll give you that. Maybe I should’ve expected it because if rumors have any truth to them, you have a heart of stone and balls of brass. But if you think you can win…” Lauren patted Joss on the cheek. “…you’re fooling yourself.”
Call her delusional, but Joss had a hidden reserve of something she doubted Lauren even knew how to spell.
Determination.
* * *
After the gum ball opportunity and Moody’s subsequently grudging apology to Joss, Shep had insisted she follow directly behind him as they hiked. The whole wagon train had fortunately shut their mouths and just moved their feet.
At one point, when the rest of the group had fallen back a few steps, Shep asked Joss, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you told us we had to keep hiking.”
“No, why did you come on this show?” Because Moody sure wasn’t treating her like a serious competitor.
“It’s a way for me to make a good impression on the American public.”
“So you don’t really care about winning.”
“I definitely care,” she said. “Because everyone loves a winner.”
By the time the group stumbled into the clearing he’d chosen for them to spend the night in, the sun was just a distant glow through the trees on the ridge line above them. If he and Puck had been hiking alone, they would’ve been here hours ago.
Shep checked his watch for the sixth time in the past hour. It was fifty-four minutes past Puck’s normal dinnertime. He’d been patient, only nudging Shep once and looking up at him with a soulfully sad where’s-my-bowl expression. But being off schedule was making Shep’s muscles twitch. Sure, he was used to nature’s ever-changing moods, but the things he could control—like his dog’s feeding schedule—he did.
He set his pack on a flat rock and located Puck’s collapsible bowls and kibble. When his dog was happily munching away, Shep finally turned around to survey the flock of albatrosses around his neck.
Moody might be a misogynistic douche, but he’d made the hike fine. He was smiling and full of energy as he placed his belongings along the southern edge of the camp. He said to the young camera operator, “You, take all yours and Greg’s shit over there near the tree line. I don’t want your tents in any of the shots.”
When he didn’t move fast enough, Moody shouted, “You looking to get fired, Baby Camera Boy?”
“Name is Zach,” the guy mumbled, but he hustled away. He and the other camera operator unloaded their gear from their shoulders and dropped down to sit cross-legged near a pair of pine trees.
The Bitcher had found a lush tuft of grass and was frowning at the screen of her phone. Bradley—aka The Bleeding Heart because of his connection with so many charities—was poking around at the edges of the clearing, picking up kindling-size sticks.
Joss had been a trouper on the second half of the hike after the stupid sweet gum tree opportunity, never once complaining about her shredded legs and scratched arms. Later, he’d check them for signs of infection.
And if that meant he had to get physically close—very close—to her, he didn’t plan to tell anyone that he found the prospect pleasant. More pleasant than he was comfortable with.
For now, she was sitting apart from the others, carefully wiping down her face and under her arms with a Wet-Nap. Once finished, she dropped the wipe and its wrapper into a plastic baggie and sealed it up.
At least one of these yahoos had done their research and understood the concept of leave no trace.
Moody swaggered in Shep’s direction, apparently unfazed by their disagreement earlier. “Not too bad for the first day. They all made it.”
“You mean some people don’t?”
“It’s not unusual for at least one of them to pull a chickenshit move and quit before the second opportunity.”
That gave Shep a different perspective on the contestants. All of them had already made it further than many others on Do or Die had. “Maybe these three will go the distance.”
“Oh, I sincer
ely doubt it.” Moody chuckled. “Having them quit is half the fun.”
Shep didn’t understand. To him, the point of hiking was to enjoy nature. Savor it. Respect it. Nature wasn’t a game to be won. That was one reason he’d never been interested in competitive rock climbing. He felt no need to race against another human. When he climbed, it was about communing with the rock, not about conquering it.
But to enjoy nature, you had to know how to survive in it.
“First thing I plan to teach them is how to make shelter,” he told Moody.
“Not happening,” Moody said. “Bradley and Joss will just have to fumble their way through tonight. It’ll make them hungrier to learn tomorrow. But I want you to build a shelter for Lauren and I’ll give her a little water.”
“Because she got down a tree with some sweet gum balls?” This man was endangering these people. As short as Joss was, she could’ve easily fallen from that massive tree and broken her fragile neck. Yes, it also could’ve happened to The Bitcher or The Bleeding Heart, but for some reason, Shep’s insides knotted tighter when he thought about Joss lying broken on the forest floor.
“Hey. That’s what this show is about. We’re not here to treat these three like they’re on some fancy trip where they get massages and drink wine at night. That show would be called Spa and Sip, not Do or Die.”
“Has anyone actually died?” A question he should’ve asked Dan.
“Um… well…” Moody shifted from foot to foot. “Last season, a guy suffered a heart attack while we were on the southeast coast of Sri Lanka. Unfortunately, the medical care he needed wasn’t close enough and he passed. But afterward, the doctors said he was a time bomb waiting to go off.”
“Did these three go through any kind of medical clearance?”
“Oh, yeah… um, sure.”
Which meant hell no. Shep knew some survival medicine, but he was no Cash. Maybe that was something he needed to get more training in. Although he’d never been a caretaker when it came to other people, he found the idea of learning something new appealing.
But for now, he would teach these people how to build shelters, regardless of what Moody wanted.
* * *
“Hey, you three,” Shep called out, his gaze never touching Joss. Maybe he was embarrassed by what happened earlier. Maybe he’d realized his simple medical attention had incited Joss’s hormones, and he was uncomfortable with her now. “Gather up over here.”
“I’m too tired,” Lauren whined. “And besides, I can’t get reception on my phone.”
“Coverage is spotty this far out,” Shep said.
“I didn’t know places like this existed,” Lauren said. “It’s like we’ve hiked off the edge of the earth.”
As she walked by her, Joss bumped the sitting woman on the shoulder. “A little dramatic, don’t you think? Even for an actress.”
“There is no edge of the earth,” Shep said. “Because the planet is round.”
“I just meant we’re nowhere close to civilization.”
“We’re exactly 11.2 miles from the center of Steele Ridge,” he told her.
“I wouldn’t consider that civilization.” Lauren’s pout turned into a smirk. “How far is it to a real city?”
“It’s 145 miles to Charlotte,” he said. “But if that’s not civilized enough for you, it is 719 to New York City and 2,278 to Los Angeles.”
“Whoa, how did you know that?” Bradley asked as he patted Shep on the back.
Joss was the only one who seemed to notice the way Shep shifted from under the other man’s hand. “I like maps.” He strode over to Lauren and stared down at her. “Get up.”
“Why? I don’t have to make my own shelter.”
“Maybe not tonight, but you will.”
“Surely I can handle three nights sleeping out in the open. It’s still warm.”
“What if it rains?” Bradley said.
Lauren looked up at the dark sky as if she was able to predict the weather. “Then I’ll just find someone who’ll let me snuggle up with them.”
The way Bradley rolled his eyes made it clear he wouldn’t be Lauren’s snuggle buddy. It should’ve relieved Joss, but that state of affairs just meant it was more likely that Lauren would try to bed down with Moody or Shep. She was welcome to Moody, but Shep? No, Joss didn’t like the idea of that at all.
“There’s always a risk of hypothermia,” Shep said. “Even in late summer or early fall. It has everything to do with core body temperature, not the temperature outside. Shelter is critical to avoid hypothermia.”
“But it’s dark,” Lauren said, “We can’t build anything now.”
“Where’s your headlamp?” Shep asked her.
“You mean that hideous headband thingie? I left that back in my other bag.”
“Then you’ll just have to follow close behind me,” Shep told her.
Lauren flashed a triumphant smile in Joss’s direction.
Whatever. Joss would much rather know how to do something herself than to be reliant on a man to do it for her. She would build her own damn shelter, and it would do its job.
The four of them trooped out into the trees, with Lauren tailgating Shep, one hand on his shoulder. He rolled it, but Lauren didn’t drop her hold.
Both camera operators were crashing through the woods on either side of their group.
“First,” Shep said, “try to use whatever you have around you.”
“Like that Christmas tree back at our camp,” Lauren said. “I call dibs on that one!”
Did Lauren have any idea what she was dibs-ing on?
“That’s a cedar,” Shep said, “and you don’t want—”
“Anyone else to get it,” Joss cut in with a tiny shake of her head in Shep’s direction.
“But it’s—” he continued, obviously not picking up what she was putting down.
“—got the lowest hanging branches and it’s very fluffy—”
“Still, she will—”
“—sleep better under it than she would on a down mattress.”
When Shep turned to glare at Joss, she mouthed, This is a game, and I’m playing it.
Finally, he said to Lauren, “If that’s the tree you want, then it’s yours.”
Joss repressed a self-satisfied smile, but inside, she was twerking. Miley, I’ll match my booty shake to yours any day!
She might be a midwestern girl, but she knew enough about cedar trees to understand they were messy with sap and often harbored all kinds of creepy crawlies, including ticks. Her conscience told her she should feel bad for helping set up Lauren, but this was after all, a competition. Survival of the fittest.
Or most creative.
Shep marched them over to a fallen branch about twice as long as Joss was tall. “A debris shelter is your best bet when you don’t have any tools.”
Bradley snorted. “We’d have tools if we were allowed more than a carry-on.”
“You want to get a few branches if possible,” Shep continued as if Bradley hadn’t spoken. He grabbed the branch and began scanning the area around them. He found what he wanted and grabbed two more. “One for a ridge pole and a couple for support poles. A forked one is especially helpful for the support poles.” As if he’d done so a thousand times, he quickly used the shorter sticks to prop up the longer branch on one end to make a sort of triangle.
“Now you need to load up on smaller twigs and branches that will follow the angle of the two support posts.”
“How much?” Joss asked him.
“Armloads.”
Lauren stepped away, leaned against a tree trunk, and fluttered a hand toward Shep. “You just do that for me, cutie.”
His face a scowl-a-palooza, Shep pulled out a thin silver tarp thing and began piling what looked like kindling onto it. Yeah, that would definitely make getting materials back to camp a little easier.
Once Shep was done piling, Bradley asked him, “Can I use that thing too?”
“Sure. I’ve g
ot another one in my pack.”
Greg the cameraman called out, “They’re only allowed to use their own equipment.”
“Seriously?” Bradley yelled back. “That’s not equipment. It’s a damn space blanket.”
“Only your own supplies.”
“Fuck me,” Bradley sighed.
Joss hurried back to camp and pulled a pashmina from her own pack. She wouldn’t be able to drag it, but it would make carrying sticks and brush much easier.
When she returned to Shep and the others, Bradley had gathered a small pile of short limbs, but was missing his ridge pole and support pole. He tossed down the branch he was holding and said, “Forget it. It’s only one night. I’ll be fine.”
Bradley marched away with Lauren following him. She gave a lazy wave over her shoulder. “See you two back at camp. Oh, and I’d like my shelter to be a little more Four Seasons and a little less Motel Six.”
Joss scouted around and found her three poles. She glanced up to find Shep watching her. “You can go on back. I’m fine.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
As she gathered branches, Shep followed her and every few minutes, he would whistle, accenting the first and third syllables. He repeated it five times in quick succession.
“Why are you doing that?”
“It’s the call of a whippoorwill. When we were younger, my brother Cash and I used the sound to let each other know when we were around. Sort of a ‘I’m here and everything’s cool’ signal.”
Shep was reassuring her, communicating that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her out here. A lump of emotion lodged in Joss’s throat, but she cleared it and whistled back at Shep.
“Hey, that’s pretty good.”
“I’ve been told I have a decent musical ear,” she said, smiling.
By the time she carted her last load to camp, Moody had set up a tent that would’ve slept everyone. He sat outside it on a stump and stirred a pot simmering over a healthy fire. Whatever was in it smelled delicious, and Joss’s stomach roared.
“Well, yay,” Lauren said as she sashayed over to Moody’s fire. “Daddy made us all dinner.”
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