She’d woken up with the sleeping bag to herself.
At some point between then and now, he’d gone. He’d unzipped the sleeping bag and left her to sleep on alone. She glanced around at the snap of a twig from the direction of the stream and he came into view. Fully dressed again in outdoor gear minus the thick padded jacket. He looked utterly gorgeous and her stupid heart gave a twist. She didn’t need a confiscated mirror to know she looked and smelled like crap right now. And she wondered why he hadn’t hung around in the sleeping bag any longer than he had to.
‘Morning,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
She waited to see what he would follow that up with. Her heartbeat clattered. He nodded towards the fire.
‘There’s food in that pot for you. Oats cooked with a little water. We need to get kitted up and ready before the camera crew turn up.’
His voice was matter-of-fact. So no reference to the night before. Just a polite greeting and a tin pot with some kind of hideous pale brown gruel clinging to the bottom. Her heart plummeted lazily in her chest like a punctured balloon. The inevitability of it all made it somehow worse. What had she expected? To wake up in his arms? A morning kiss? Maybe not, but she’d hoped for a bit more than this déjà vu sensation of behaving as if nothing had happened. The soft butterflies in her stomach seemed to have taken on a lurching quality, as if their wings had been clipped.
Give him a chance, Evie.
‘What about you?’ she said, leaning forward in her sleeping bag and grabbing for a spoon. She pushed the porridge around dubiously. It had the consistency of brown wallpaper paste. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘I’ve eaten my share,’ he said. He was busy picking up camping equipment and packing it into his bag.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she said. ‘We could have eaten together.’
He put the bag down and looked at her, his expression giving nothing away.
‘It’s not exactly croissants and preserves on the veranda,’ he said. His tone of voice took on an edge of posh and she felt heat creep up her neck. She’d hoped that the critical spoilt-little-rich-girl references might have been left behind them now.
‘I’m always up early, force of habit,’ he carried on. ‘There’s a lot to get through today and I’m not sure the weather’s going to be on our side.’ He glanced up at the rustling branches high above them as if he expected a hurricane to kick in at any moment. Still no mention of the previous night’s activities. He’d reverted to Jack Trent, course leader, expert on the great outdoors predicting the weather. Whatever last night had meant, for him it didn’t appear to extend beyond the hours of darkness. A sharp spike of miserable anger kicked into her stomach—anger at herself because she’d dared to hope for more. When had any man she’d been with ever delivered more? How could she have been so stupid as to read anything into last night beyond sex? All those photos she’d seen of him on the Internet with this woman or that woman on his arm. He obviously didn’t do meaningful relationships and even if he did, was his first choice ever going to be the girl who’d bad-mouthed him to the country at large?
Her stomach lurched. He was no different from the others after all. Those heady first few dates, feeling as if she’d struck gold. Follow-up phone calls. Texts. Gifts. All so perfect until they got what they wanted, got her into bed and then their interest melted away. She’d fallen for it again and again, the endless hope that this time it would be different. And this one really took the crown.
She ached to put as much distance between herself and Jack Trent as she could, to hole up in her flat and lick her wounds. Instead, she had to stay and see out his horrible TV show, pretending nothing had happened between them, because the only thing worse than being the latest notch on Jack Trent’s tent flap would be for the public to find out about it. She could imagine the tabloid glee right now and it made her feel sick.
She stared at the dying fire and collected up her wits, which had been annoyingly absent last night when it had really counted.
There was only one option. Fortunately it was one she’d honed to perfection over the years and all that practice should stand her in good stead now. Gritting her teeth, she took the pot from the fire and channelled I-don’t-care for all she was worth. If she was going to be ditched after one night, she would damn well get in first.
‘About last night,’ she said, not looking at him. Instead she scraped a spoon around the tin of awful porridge. ‘It was a mistake.’
NINE
From the corner of her eye she saw him stop what he was doing. He turned to face her.
‘What?’
She shrugged defiantly.
‘Come on. We’re both thinking it.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Are we?’
‘Clearly we are,’ she said, forcing down a tiny spoonful of the oats. Revolting stodge. Her stomach gave a lazy roll. ‘It was a long day yesterday. Last night would never have happened if I’d been thinking straight. And you were up and about the second you woke up and all you’ve talked about is the outward-bound plan for day two. What other conclusion am I meant to make?’
A distant rumble cut through his silence. It was clear now that a storm was brewing above them. The sky had turned from misty grey to scurrying black in the space of about ten minutes and the tree canopy above them was beginning to whip around. She could feel impending rainfall in the heavy thickness of the air.
He left his bag and crossed to the fire.
‘Maybe it would be for the best,’ he said, not looking at her.
Oh, what a surprise! There it was right there. One sentence that proved her right. She tipped her head back and laughed sarcastically up at the angry sky.
‘What?’ he said.
He stared at her as if he thought she might have gone mad. Maybe she had. Maybe this was what madness was, the same raising of hopes followed by a downward crash, over and over again. She was out of the double sleeping bag in one swift movement, kicking it away, grabbing for her clothes and putting them on. Fast jerky movements that channelled her anger.
‘Did I just save you a job?’ she asked him. She glanced up at him from lacing up her boots. She shook her head. ‘I never learn, do I?’ She winked darkly at his confused expression. ‘Don’t worry, Jack. No need to come up with any lame excuses now, I’ve saved you the trouble.’ She picked up her backpack and began stuffing a few items into it. ‘I’ve probably heard them all before anyway.’
The sky finally burst and fat raindrops began to fall. The tree canopy above them provided some protection, but with the wind whipping the branches about the rainfall made its way through to camp. Light at first, then heavier. The remnants of the fire disappeared with a hiss. Evie did nothing to try and shelter, instead just letting the rain soak and darken her blonde hair. What the hell did a bit of rain matter in the bigger scheme of things? She really couldn’t give a damn. Jack stood his ground.
‘I should never have let this happen,’ he said.
‘You did though, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘Didn’t have any issues with it last night. Got what you wanted now, no need to keep up any pretence.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It really wasn’t like that.’
She stopped packing at the sound of his quiet tone and looked up at him, waiting to see exactly what he might back up an apology with.
‘It’s not because of anything you’ve done. I’m not a good person to get involved with, Evie. You’re better off without me.’
She stood up angrily.
‘Oh, just spare me!’ She threw exasperated hands up. ‘I thought you might have done a bit better than it’s-not-you-it’s-me. Have you any idea how many times I’ve heard that one? You could at least be original.’ She leaned down to zip up her backpack. ‘You know what? I don’t even care. I don’t know why I th
ought you’d be any different. They never are. No one’s ever straight with me. You’re just like all the others.’ She picked up the backpack and hefted it onto her shoulders. He was looking at her in amazement, mouth open. ‘Trust me, Jack, because it’s tried and tested. It’s not bloody you. It actually is me.’
She stood facing him tensely across the dead fire, the perfect standoff, and the cameraman trudged into the clearing. He was fresh as a daisy, clean shaven, with a new set of clothes. He looked from one of them to the other.
‘Hold that pose, hold that pose,’ he gabbled, tugging the handheld camera into position and prising the lens cap off. ‘Rough night, was it? Argument? How about an action replay for the viewing public?’
‘Oh, piss off!’ Evie snapped.
He grinned broadly.
‘I see we got out of the wrong side of the sleeping bag this morning,’ he said.
Hell, it was like walking across a minefield.
Walking alongside her meant deliberate slowing down of Jack’s natural pace but he did it anyway, because she was making no effort whatsoever to walk next to him. Head down, hands thrust into the pockets of her jacket, not speaking. A short hike through the forest brought them out into the open; an hour or so further and they’d be at the site for the planned filming of a list of bush-craft tasks. A few other bits of filming were planned, filler mainly, plus an exit interview with Evie. Who knew how the hell that might turn out now? He glanced uneasily up at the sky. Dark clouds scurried across it, blocking out the light. The rain showed no sign of abating.
Guilt churned in his stomach at what she’d said back at the camp, how he’d made her feel. He’d expected anger and blame, had been ready to take full responsibility. He hadn’t expected her determination to make his backing off into some failing of hers. He should have seen that coming. She’d spent her whole life feeling not good enough, and now he’d gone and added more fuel to that fire. He’d been too busy thinking about his own inadequacies to think that someone as lovely as her could possibly have some crippling ones of her own.
And he really shouldn’t be this concerned about her. When in any of his past liaisons had he given a second thought to how his backing out might make them feel? As far as he was concerned being upfront was enough. He’d never cared enough about them to wonder what the aftermath might be. And he found he couldn’t now let this lie. Not like this.
‘I meant what I said back at camp,’ he said, when the cameraman was out of earshot. He had no idea what he was going to say next.
As she glanced his way he caught sight of an incredulous expression on her face, obviously amazed that he’d opened the subject back up again when she’d already put her own stamp on the situation.
‘Forget it,’ she said, flapping a dismissive hand at him. ‘I’m not interested. I’ve been there, done that, and if I had a T-shirt for the number of times a guy’s lost interest after the first five minutes, it wouldn’t be a jewellery shop I could open. This is no big first for me. So if you don’t mind, let’s skip the bit where I tell you it doesn’t matter so that you can feel better about yourself. I just want this whole thing to be over with.’
She hefted her backpack up higher on her shoulders.
‘Let’s just get the hell on with the tasks.’
‘It has nothing to do with losing interest,’ he said, exasperated. ‘You think last night was something I do all the time?’
She looked sideways at him, eyebrows slightly raised in challenge.
‘I can tell you, it isn’t,’ he said, holding her gaze until she looked away, almost annoyed at her lack of interest in an explanation. Had last night not even been worth that for her? He glanced behind them to check the cameraman was out of earshot and kept his voice low. ‘The press might make it look that way but at least half of those dates are actually just dates, believe it or not. No sex involved.’
That got her attention. Rain soaked her hair and clung to her eyelashes and she swiped a hand over her wet cheeks and waited for him to carry on.
‘I don’t do relationships for a reason, Evie. I’ve let people down in the past with my behaviour. People who are close to me, people I care about. All because I put myself first.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Now would be the moment where he opened up and told her all about Helen. About the way he’d just disappeared into the army without so much as a glance over his shoulder. About coming home to find her hospitalised, broken, weak and his mother desolate that she’d been unable to do anything to stop it. She’d tried for over a week to get hold of him with the news. The familiar dark shame climbed through him, worming its way through his veins as he groped for a way to explain it all that wouldn’t bring forth her utter contempt.
She shook her head slowly into the rain-drenched silence.
‘I don’t want to know. Stick to the plan, Jack. What happened in the Highlands stays in the Highlands. Let’s just quit while we’re ahead and forget it ever happened.’
* * *
The hard stuff had been done on day one, so why the hell didn’t it feel like that? No full-on activities today, no cave diving to worry about, no leaping off cliffs. Just a hike back to Jack’s activity-centre base of a couple of hours with a few stops thrown in for him to demonstrate navigation skills and emergency measures should you happen to have the appalling luck not only to be caught out in the great outdoors but to be injured too. Each time she’d dutifully stood to one side of the shot and pasted an interested I’m-learning-so-much expression on her face. The minutes dragged by and then she was pulled in to give her opinion on the experience.
What to say...?
She kept her eyes on Jack the entire time as he shifted from foot to foot, clearly sweating after the night and morning they’d just spent together what she might give away on camera. But really, was there ever any question about what she would say?
‘So, Evie, how have you found the survival experience as a whole?’ Jack asked her, on cue, his voice artificially jovial. He was obviously as anxious to get this over as she was.
She wiped droplets of rain from her face with the back of her hand, gave the viewers what she hoped was a contrite smile and gave them what they wanted. Best for him, best for her. What would be the point in doing anything else? Hadn’t the whole point of going through with this weekend been to kill the questioning of Jack Trent’s integrity stone dead?
‘Tough,’ she said. ‘But fun.’ She held his eyes deliberately. ‘The comments I made about your skills that led to this show...well, let’s just say I’ve been proved wrong. In the toughest possible way.’ The camera crew provided background chuckles. ‘I can honestly say this is an experience I won’t forget in a hurry, and I think kids across the country will think Jack’s new children’s courses are fantastic.’
The camera quit rolling and she followed along with the rest of the team for the final walk back to the centre. All she wanted now was to get back to civilisation with her pride intact and put as much distance between her and Jack Trent as she could. Would she be watching the show when it aired? No. Bloody. Way.
* * *
Who needed a massive sunken bath with gold taps?
The no-frills hotel didn’t seem half as bad as it had on the way in. Just having an actual bath was enough. There was mud in her hair and underneath her fingernails. The girly pink nail varnish she’d had applied back in London just last week was chipped in places, flaking in others. Two of her nails had broken out in the field and in the absence of anything so civilised as nail scissors she’d gnawed them to get rid of any sharp edges. She removed the remaining traces of varnish while the bath filled, tipping the entire contents of the one-product-fits-all bath/shower/shampoo combo under the running water. A fresh unisex citrus scent filled the steamy room and she couldn’t have revelled in it more if it were a top-of-the-range designer scent
.
Her hair felt gritty at the roots. She let herself sink slowly down beneath the surface of the warm water, closed her eyes and tried not to think about Jack Trent.
For a moment back there it had felt different. Real. He’d seen her at her absolute worst and liked her, preferred her in fact to when she was playing her best. To Evie that was the stuff of dreams and somehow that made it worse. He’d looked beyond the TV personality that her previous boyfriends had been interested in; she’d trusted him enough to show him that. He’d seen the real Evie, and she’d fallen short. By morning they might have still been in the forest but he’d behaved just like every other guy she’d dated, looking for a handy get-out.
That wasn’t strictly true.
Easy to lump his rejection in with all the others. The fact remained that he’d tried to give her some kind of explanation, not that she’d given him the chance. What might he have said if she’d let him carry on with that explanation instead of cutting him off?
She sat up in the bath and quickly washed her hair using the shower attachment, all the while focusing hard on the positives. Raking over this stuff was completely futile. Whatever had been between her and Jack Trent was done with, and picking through it in her mind was pointless. She came out of this situation with a new contract right when she needed it and a knock-on boost to her jewellery brand. She should be delighted.
If only that success didn’t feel now as if it came with strings. As if it were diminished. Could her jewellery hold its own without the Miss K name to buoy it up? She’d been too scared to find out, had jumped at the chance of the TV tie-in for her designs instead of standing or falling on her own merit alone. But now the fact she hadn’t tried and would never know needled at her in a way it hadn’t before.
The knock on the door came as she combed out her wet hair, bringing a sense of déjà vu that made her pulse jump. A couple of days ago and she’d opened the door to find Jack leaning on one huge shoulder against the door frame.
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