by Karen Rigley
“She probably slept late,” he replied just as casually, neither his face nor his body language revealing a thing.
Memories of her ex-husband’s smooth lies slammed Jami like a tidal wave. Her survival instinct warned her to armor her heart against this other womanizer, while she still could escape. Grant’s warm strong hand clasped hers, entwining their fingers as he smiled down at her. Despite herself, Jami smiled back. Maybe it was already too late.
“Mom, Nell’s basket is full to the top. Do you need us to help you?” Toby asked, bouncing between berry bushes to halt beside her at the strawberry patch.
Jami glanced down at the wicker basket she held in her free hand. “No, mine’s loaded. Let’s get these berries back to Becca.”
Toby started to retrieve his basket from the rock, but skidded to a stop. “Hey, look at that!”
“A mountain bluebird,” Grant informed them quietly as they watched a petite azure bird perched on the rim of Toby’s basket peck cautiously at the berries.
Suddenly the bluebird cocked its head to watch them. A flutter of blue wings and it was gone. “We frightened it,” Jami whispered, disappointed to see the lovely bird fly away.
“I didn’t know bluebirds liked blackberries,” Nell commented, taking her own basket back from Toby as he picked up his.
“I’ll get that for you, Mrs. B.” Grant released Jami’s hand and took charge of Nell’s basket, and grasped the wobbly woman’s elbow to assist her over the uneven ground.
“Thank you, dear.” Nell tipped the wide brim of her straw hat back off her crinkled face to peer up at Grant. “I thought you had things to do this morning.”
“What things?” Toby quizzed, skipping between the adults as they headed toward the patio entrance to the Garden Room.
“Collecting our camping gear for one thing.” Grant steadied Nell, slowing nearly to a stop as he helped the elderly woman take the patio steps one at a time.
Jami was thankful to see the area back to normal, not a soap bubble in sight. The clear water of the hot tub churned and steamed, chlorination penetrating the fresh mountain air.
“I thought we’d leave about one-thirty and take the motorboat across the lake to our campsite. Sound reasonable?” Grant asked, as Nell scurried away from him to enter the French doors behind Toby.
Unable to avoid the subject any longer, Jami felt rising panic as her gaze met Grant’s. She swallowed hard. “Fine.”
“You’re afraid to go camping with me, aren’t you?” Grant reached up to twist a coppery lock of hair between his fingers as he stared deep into her eyes, mesmerizing her.
“Why should I be?” she asked, jutting her chin in the air.
“Good question.” Grant smiled, taking her basket to slide it on his arm next to Nell’s. “Are you scared of me, or concerned that Toby the Terror will sabotage the trip?”
“Why would Toby ruin our camp-out? He’s thrilled at the chance to go camping!”
“But he’s not thrilled about us.” Grant stroked her cheekbone, then skimmed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Us?” Jami echoed, knowing she sounded naïve as she fought the shiver of delight his touch sparked.
“Your son thinks that you’ll ignore him, if you and I are...” Grant paused, a wicked glint in the midnight blue of his eyes. “An item.”
“He’s just protective of his mom,” she defended, stiffening her spine, and her resolve, as she stepped back from Grant.
“It’s more than that.” His expression clouded, deep lines carved around his mouth as he shook his head. “Toby gets upset when I’m with you.”
“There’s nothing for Toby to be concerned about.” Jami recalled the talk she’d had with Toby about his friend Dustin, who felt neglected when his mother remarried. She knew Toby worried about the same thing happening with them, but it never would. Still, the child was too young to understand that fact.
“We know there’s nothing for Toby to worry about, but he doesn’t.” Grant’s words pierced Jami’s heart. Why did it hurt when he stated the blunt truth about their lack of a real relationship? After all, this was only a sham. Just an advertising promotion and nothing more. Grant accepted it. So why couldn’t she?
Right after lunch, Grant met Jami and Toby on the dock where they helped him load the camping supplies and equipment into the motorboat.
“That’s everything,” Grant said, his muscles rippling as he hefted the rolled sleeping bags into the boat next to Jami’s feet.
“Wow, we need lots of stuff to camp,” Toby exclaimed, rummaging through the equipment and supplies.
“Is this all there is?” Jami asked, feeling exactly the opposite of her son as she stared at the pile of items, the sleeping bags, cooler, along with a myriad of other items so had no clue about.
Grant laughed, pointing things out. “The tent poles collapse and fold, as does the tent. The bags are the new compact lightweight type. The pans and mess kits are also designed to pack efficiently, just like the rest of the things. Food supplies are the heaviest, and we don’t need much.”
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Jami skeptically eyed the pile.
“Yes.” After untying the ropes to cast off, Grant started the engine with a rumble. “And a lantern and flashlight. I used to be a Boy Scout, so I’m always prepared.”
Jami ignored the double meaning Grant injected into always prepared and concentrated on refastening Toby’s orange life jacket. The motorboat cut through the water, fine spray misting her as they zoomed toward the far side of the lake.
Hair blew into her face, so she pulled the unruly mass of waves back with one hand, her other hand clutching the side of the boat as the craft bumpily zipped across the lake. They sped toward the far shore, Jami’s pulse quickening as the motorboat slowed to a crawl and then stopped.
The camping trip was now a reality with no turning back. They had arrived.
Tasting the lake spray as she bit her bottom lip, she forced herself to stop the nervous habit and concentrate on keeping Toby from launching off the deck before Grant could ground the bow of the boat. “Hey, tiger,” Jami said, grabbing her son’s arm. “Hang on until we hear Grant’s ‘go ahead.’”
“But I want to help him.”
“Slugger, get on and off the boat when I say.” Barely covered by tank shirt and cut-offs, Grant’s powerful bronzed body rippled from exertion as he steadied the grounded boat and hauled it ashore with Jami, Toby, and the gear still in it. “You’ll help me best by following the rules.”
“Too many rules,” Toby grumbled. The child’s frown swiftly curved into a grin. “Can I help unload our camping gear?”
“Depend on it, partner.”
Stepping carefully off the boat with her own tote bag, Jami’s sneakered feet squished through the shallows as she padded up to the dry bank. There she stood, frozen in place, questioning her decision to camp as she watched Grant Carrington. She tried not to stare at the corded, bulging play of gleaming muscles as Grant bent, twisted, and lifted to transfer the pile of camping gear on shore, out of reach of the undulating lake waters. He emitted a raw, powerful masculinity that called to Jami on a sexual level, yet at the same time his gentle, caring friendship with Toby touched her heart.
“That’s all.” Toby proudly carried the last item to add it to the collection of camping gear.
“Good job.” Grant reached down to ruffle Toby’s hair, then waved toward a forested area of blue spruce. “Now we can carry it to our camp site over there.”
“In the midst of trees?” Jami asked, staring at the woods Grant had indicated. “I don’t see a clearing.”
“You will once you enter the trees.” Grant tucked camping gear under one arm and two sleeping bags under another. “Toby, grab some things and let’s go.”
Toby lifted the other sleeping bag, lugging it as he bounded after Grant between the towering evergreens. Jami switched her tote strap to her left shoulder, enabling her to also carry a Coleman lantern an
d a blue satchel as she followed the other two into the woods.
There, ringed by the magnificent spruce was a meadow as magical and unexpected as a fairytale. Jami gasped in pleasure at the dazzling carpet of wild flowers, threaded by a gurgling brook. Alongside the frosted blue-green needled evergreens stood a grove of delicate aspen, the slim, white-barked trunks topped by lacy branches of quivering silvery leaves. “It’s beautiful!”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Grant agreed, satisfaction written upon his face. He deposited the bags, then unfolded a tarp, spreading it over the ground in a patch of shade.
“Aren’t we bringing the rest of the stuff?” Toby asked, dropping his booty next to Grant’s.
“Certainly, but I thought I’d set up a place to stash everything first.” Grant appeared to be setting up a diminutive tepee-shaped tent on top of the tarp.
“Does somebody sleep in that?” Toby asked, eyeing the tiny tent skeptically.
“No. It’s an old pup tent. We can keep our gear and supplies inside it.” Grant’s gaze slid from Toby to Jami and back again. “Homer loaned us a three-man tent. With the three of us sleeping inside, that won’t leave room for all our camping paraphernalia.”
“The three of us?” Jami demanded, turning to Grant after depositing the lantern and satchel by the sleeping bags. “I’m not sharing a tent with you!”
“There were no other tents available.” Grant’s face hardened into chiseled granite as he glanced over at her. “So, you don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t I?” She pointed at the pup tent. “You can sleep in there.”
“No way.” Grant snapped the canvas flap back to open the tent door. “I’m sleeping in a modern dome tent with leg room and netting for air circulation.” He waved at Toby. “Want to grab some more stuff to haul back here, slugger?”
“Sure, Grant.” Toby skipped out of the clearing, oblivious to the friction between the adults.
Grant crossed to Jami, placing his hands on her shoulders and gazing intently at her. “You’re perfectly safe sharing a tent with me. Toby can place his bag in the middle between us.”
“I will not share a tent with you.” Jami pressed her lips together and glared back at Grant, pretending he didn’t affect her one bit.
“Then you can sleep in the pup tent.”
“Fine.” Jami glanced at the ancient, pint-size tent and swallowed hard. “No problem.”
“That’s what you think.” Grant strode over to the pup tent and motioned Jami forward. “Go on, check your sleeping quarters.”
She bent to stick her head inside, noting that the air within the interior of the tent was already warm and stuffy. The tent seams were thin and fraying, several stitches pulled and the side-end poles dented. Assailed by a sense of claustrophobia, Jami didn’t feel confident about the pup tent or its sturdiness as a shelter. Still, people had used the things for years.
“It’ll be fine,” she reiterated, popping out quickly to inhale the breeze-freshened mountain air.
“Right.” Grant’s lips curved up into a cocky grin, fine lines crinkling around his eyes as if he barely restrained his laughter. “You’ll be real comfortable.” He took the modern, compactly parceled dome tent out of Toby’s arms as the child screeched to a stop beside him. “Thanks, partner. Let’s pitch our tent.”
“You do that,” Jami retorted, tossing her tote bag inside the pup tent.
It seemed to Jami that Grant raised the bright turquoise and emerald geodesic dome tent within seconds. It had a zippered doorway, plus gray mesh areas for airflow and bug protection and its own flooring. She watched Grant show Toby all the conveniences and wondered if she’d made the wrong choice. Their tent was much more comfortable and secure than hers.
As if catching her thought, Grant turned to Jami. “Ready to change your mind and join us?”
“In your dreams,” she replied, her chin high.
“Possibly,” Grant growled for her ears alone, those midnight eyes full of amusement, and something more.
“Wow,” Toby cried, bursting in and out of the tent doorway. “This is cool! Mom, you ought to sleep with me and Grant. Your tent is yucky.”
“Who says?” Jami laughed, mussing her son’s hair already tousled from the boat ride. Her own must be a tangled mess. She tried to finger-comb it, but her fingers snagged on knotted tendrils. Leaving the guys to store the camping gear and supplies, she crawled into the pup tent to get her hairbrush from her bag.
“Where did Mom go?” Toby suddenly asked, his big brown eyes gazing around the clearing uncertainly when he popped back out of the dome tent.
Grant paused, scanning the area. “Probably checking out her tent.”
“Why does Mom want to sleep in there?” Toby asked pointing at the pup tent. “Instead of with us?”
“Females are mysterious creatures.” Grant carried a knapsack of supplies into the dome tent as Toby trailed behind. “I’d tell you that you’ll understand them better when you grow up—but figuring out women doesn’t work that way. As matter of fact, it just gets worse.”
“It does?”
“Definitely.” Grant grinned at the youngster who knelt to play with a green metal and glass lantern, turning the key to raise and lower the wick. “Believe me, partner. It just gets tougher.”
“Can we light this?” Toby asked, lifting his freckled face up to Grant.
“Later. If we need to when it gets dark.”
The boy sniffed the lantern, wrinkling his nose. “Why does it smell funny?”
“Kerosene oil. The fuel that makes it burn.” Grant placed the lantern out of the way. “Don’t fool around with it, okay?”
“Okay. Hey, we don’t have a stove.” Toby sifted through the pile of camping gear. “How do we cook?”
“We build a campfire.”
“Cool.”
They both glanced up to see Jami silhouetted by bright sunlight in the tent doorway.
“Grant, where’s the restroom?”
His grin broadened. “Across the lake by the picnic area.”
“I’m serious.” Jami’s hands rested on her hips as she stared at Grant.
“So am I.”
“Why didn’t you warn me that we’d be camping under such primitive conditions?” she demanded, dismay clouding her wide amber eyes.
“Camping is primitive.” Laughter coating his words, Grant tried to stand, but his cocked head nearly brushed the tent top.
“Mom, Grant showed me where there’s toilet paper in the bag in the corner,” Toby volunteered, still fiddling with the lantern. “Isn’t camping great? With no bathroom, I won’t even have to brush my teeth or wash my hands!”
“We don’t have to get that primitive,” Grant said, this time laughing out loud. “We have some water purifier for the lake water, and we brought along several gallons of bottled water.”
“No restroom,” Jami muttered, shaking her head. “Barbaric.”
“I wanted to bring you and Toby to someplace special.” Grant gestured at the idyllic mountain wilderness surrounding them. “Cheap motels have bathrooms, but only nature has this.”
“Nothing’s wrong with a few basic comforts.” Jami ducked inside to cross the canvas flooring of the tent and grab a roll of bathroom tissue.
“Where’s your pioneer spirit?” Grant challenged.
“In the toilet,” Jami tartly responded as she disappeared out the zipped-open doorway.
Grant watched her go, thinking how pretty she was with the swing of her curvy hips and those long shapely legs steering his thoughts into an unacceptable direction.
“Grant, which sleeping bag is mine?”
“Which one do you want?” Grant forced his thoughts back to the boy.
“This purple one.” Toby tugged the bottom bag from the pile. “They have sleeping bags like this in Zonar Galaxy.”
“Then it must be yours. Later we’ll unroll our sleeping bags. Do you think your mom prefers blue or green?” Grant asked, motioning to the remainin
g bags.
“Blue. That’s her favorite color. Like this bag.” Toby immediately dug into the blue satchel. “What’s in here?”
“The first-aid-kit, waterproof matches, sun block, and soap.”
“Oh,” Toby replied, dropping the satchel as if it contained nothing exciting. He unfastened an outside pocket of the knapsack. “What’s in this?”
“Flashlights, knife, deck of cards...” Grant began as Toby extracted a slim penlight, then pointed it directly at his eyes, flashing the beam on and off as he squinted.
Toby didn’t notice Grant’s discomfort. “Wow. This flashlight is just my size. Too bad it’s not purple.”
“Put it by your sleeping bag, and you can hang onto it for tonight. Okay?”
“Great!” Toby jumped up and threw his arms around Grant to give him a hug. “Thanks lots!”
“No problem.” Grant gave the boy a return squeeze, rocking back on his heels to grin down at Toby. Why did the child affect him so? “After dinner we can roast marshmallows.”
“Don’t you need ovens to roast things?”
“Not marshmallows. You just slide one onto the end of a stick and roast it over an open fire.”
“Sounds messy,” Jami declared, appearing in the tent opening.
“But delicious,” Grant countered. “Good things are worth the trouble.”
“Depends on how much trouble.” Jami’s gaze locked with his, electrifying the air between them.
Toby grabbed his toy boat, then darted past his mother and out of the tent, calling, “I’m going to float my boat in the water.”
“Be careful,” Jami automatically replied. She heard her son’s responding “Okay.” As he disappeared, she turned back to Grant. “I haven’t thanked you properly for carving him that boat. Toby really enjoys it.”
“This afternoon I should whittle a captain for it. Maybe we’ll even add a sail.” Grant seemed to fill the entire tent, forcing Jami to back away slightly.
“That’ll be...nice.” She watched Grant move toward her and suddenly her throat went dry. “I think I’ll put a sleeping bag in my tent now.”