by Karen Rigley
“Can I have more marshmallows?” Toby asked, a gooey white streak smeared from his chin to his cheeks as he waved his empty stick in the smoky air. “Please?”
“You ate four,” Grant replied, a good-natured grin replacing the sexual innuendo he had focused on Jami.
“That’s plenty, young man.” Jami took a deep breath of woodsy smoke instead of fresh air, setting off a coughing spasm she couldn’t stop.
“Can you breathe?” Grant patted her back, peering at her with concern. “Are you choking? Need the Heimlich Maneuver?”
“Breathing caused it,” Jami choked, impressed by his quick response and touched by his concern. If she was ever in trouble, Grant Carrington seemed a good man to have there. “I’m fine now.”
“Good. It’s story time,” Grant said, grabbing a blanket and tucking it around them.
Sometimes Grant could be so sweet, Jami thought as Toby leaned against her while Grant regaled them with camp-tales, edited for her six-year-old’s ears. In an odd way, it felt as if they were a family.
Eventually, Grant slid his arm around Jami, scooting close to her as they watched the firelight. Flames from the campfire flickered and flared, dancing with colors from blue and violet to scarlet and orange to yellow and white. Shadows grew to move eerily in the firelight, spooking Jami and her sleepy boy. Several times in the middle of Grant’s storytelling, she and Toby jumped as the fire cracked and popped or when they heard an animal skitter through the brush.
Despite the enthralling tales delivered in a skillful manner, Toby gradually nodded off, resting against her breast.
“Time for bed,” Grant announced, steadying Jami by the shoulders as he stood. He stretched and yawned, seeming enormous in the play of light from the campfire, his startling shadow even larger as it cast on the dome tent behind them.
Toby blinked open his eyes at that moment, then screamed and pointed at Grant’s elongated shadow, which to a child could be terrifying.
Jami jumped, then pulled her son tighter into her arms. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s just Grant’s shadow.”
“Looks like a grizzly,” Toby defended, his voice trembling along with the rest of him.
“Close,” Jami whispered, aware that Grant was equally as dangerous in a totally different way.
“I resent that,” Grant retorted playfully, boosting Toby up for a big hug. “This is a bear hug. Since you accused me of being a grizzly, you owe me one.”
“I like bear hugs.” Toby giggled, nuzzling against Grant’s broad chest and clinging tight.
Jami swallowed a lump in her throat as she again witnessed the bond between her son and Grant. How would the child respond when they were ripped apart? When Grant returned to his bachelor life and walked away?
“Be careful, Toby,” Jami admonished, schooling her emotions. “You’ll get Grant all sticky.”
“I’ll clean up the dinner mess, if you take charge of this one,” Grant said with a deep chuckle as he handed Toby over to his mother. “I’ll heat some water in a pan for you.”
“No need.” Jami took hold of Toby, but quickly lowered him to the ground. He was growing so fast and was much heavier now. “I have hand sanitizer and moist wipes in my bag.”
Grant mocked, “On melted marshmallow?”
“We’ll manage,” Jami muttered under her breath, guiding Toby toward her pup tent. Why did Grant have to challenge every decision she made? She’d cleaned worse messes off Toby before and certainly without Mr. Carrington’s help. Without anyone’s help. She didn’t need advice or intervention when it concerned her son.
Thank goodness they were returning to the lodge after breakfast in the morning. After wasting a half box of wet wipes cleaning off Toby, she’d be lucky to make it through the overnighter before her supply ran out. Maybe she should have accepted Grant’s offer of heated water.
“Here you go.” Grant appeared at the entrance of the dome tent offering a bottle of water.
“You read my mind?”
“I didn’t think wet wipes would be practical when you two brushed your teeth. Oh, I added some logs to the fire to give you more light.”
“Thanks.” Quickly, they were ready for bed and she tucked her sleepy one into a sleeping bag.
“Mom, Grant’s stronger than a bear, isn’t he?” Toby drowsily asked, eyelids fluttering closed.
“Maybe,” Jami replied, kissing her son’s now lemon-scented, but clean, forehead. “So don’t worry about bears or anything.”
“Okay,” Toby mumbled, scooting lower in the sleeping bag. “But I don’t have my dream-catcher.”
“Grant will keep you safe,” Jami whispered, knowing the words she spoke were true. Why had she insisted on sleeping in the pup tent? She glanced at the stack of camping things filling her spot and sighed. Too late to change her mind.
Isolated and alone in the stuffy, limited space of the dark pup tent, the tiny beam from her key chain light flickering around the interior like a panicked firefly, Jami held her breath. She identified the chirping crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and possibly frogs croaking, but many other sounds echoed through the night. Unidentifiable sounds.
Unaccustomed to such a state of nervousness, Jami twisted in her sleeping bag on the hard ground trying to get comfortable. How could a grown woman let a few cries of wild animals alarm her? Ugh. She was such a city girl! She snuggled down into the fleece lining of the slippery bag, wishing she had her pillow. And a decent flashlight.
She clicked off her poor-excuse-for-a-light, placing it by her sleeping bag, then shut her eyes. Yeowl! A distant howl echoed through the night to pop them back open, her heart pounding a drumbeat in her ears.
“How can I be such a wimp?” Jami whispered to the darkness, aware of only the thin, worn canvas of a rickety tent between her and creatures of the night.
Entire body saturated with tiredness, her mind drifting and floating as she tried to identify every noise, Jami again closed her eyes. She concentrated so hard on hearing the night sounds around her, she barely noticed as sleep gradually claimed her through gauzy layers of consciousness.
Inside the dome tent, Grant Carrington slithered into the last sleeping bag. Toby stirred, a bump in the blue bag a few feet away. “Hey, Grant?”
“What, buddy?”
“Think my mom’s asleep?”
“Probably. Unless she’s scared all by herself.”
“She’s never scared,” Toby mumbled, rolling to his other side and snuggling back down.
Grant kept his flashlight on until the boy’s eyes fluttered closed. Soon he heard Toby’s slow even breathing, punctuated occasionally by a tiny snore and knew the child was asleep. Shutting off the flashlight, he lay in the darkness wondering about Jami, berating himself. He knew her stubborn streak and should have found a way to allow her to gracefully back down from her decision to sleep in that pup tent. He’d felt sure she wouldn’t go through with it, but had underestimated her internal steel. She had more character in her little toe than most people had in their whole bodies. If only she wasn’t so stubborn.
He scowled, considering his own behavior. What a pair they made. Cupid’s perfect couple couldn’t even go one night without quarreling.
Turning onto his side, he faced the tent vent opening in a netted window toward the pup tent. It was too dark to see anything. If only she’d accepted his flashlight. Angry at himself, Grant grabbed his shirt, stuffing it into a ball under his head. If he didn’t get a moment’s sleep the entire night, it’d be his own fault. He never should have let Jami insist on that pup tent.
The howl of a wild beast reverberated through the night. Jami jerked awake, fighting loose from the clutches of the sleeping bag. Frantic, she kicked free. Swallowed by darkness and sick with rising panic, she tried to get her bearings. Where was the exit? She’d never felt so trapped. Or vulnerable.
Other howls joined the first with unearthly menace. Jami screamed, jumping to her feet, her shoulder whacking the side tent pole.
Creak, crack! The tent collapsed, burying her under old canvas and downed tent poles. “Ow! Help!”
Grant flew out of the dome tent with a frightened Toby on his heels. Aiming the brightest flashlight beam at the pup tent, Grant spotlighted Jami, her head poking up from the destructed tent as she floundered.
“What happened?” Grant scanned the area with the yellow beam of the flashlight and switched the light back on Jami. She looked like a wild woman with her hair tangled and hanging into her face, her eyes twice their normal size.
“Didn’t you hear those blood-thirsty creatures?” she demanded, full of as much fire as fright.
“We heard some coyotes howling, that’s all. Right, Toby?”
“Yeah, Mom, that’s all,” the child quickly agreed.
“That’s all?” Jami sputtered, struggling to get out of the tent wreckage twisted around her.
“The coyotes are more scared of us than we are of them,” Toby bragged, “Grant said so.”
“Nobody bothered to tell me,” Jami retorted.
“You didn’t ask,” Grant replied, trying his best not to laugh as the tousled redhead bobbed around the tent ruins. A bent tent pole was snagged in the back of her hair, as though she had a metal tail.
“Mom broke her tent, didn’t she?”
“She certainly did,” Grant agreed, illuminating the pup tent remains as he strode toward Jami.
She scowled, still tangled in the tent. “I didn’t.”
“Then why’d it fall down?” Toby asked, catching the key chain light rolling out from under the canvas.
“Because I bumped the pole.”
“See?” Toby shook his head at his mom, his own hair sticking out in places, but still much neater than his mother’s wild tresses.
“You head back to bed, partner,” Grant suggested, as he took Jami’s arm to help her shed the collapsed tent. “I’ll rescue your mother, and we’ll be with you in a minute. Okay?”
“Aw.” The child fiddled with the key-light, and it flickered on, accompanied by his mother’s grunt of disgust. “I gotta?”
“Toby, please go back to bed,” Jami said, keeping her voice soft to retain control.
“Okay.” Turning to Grant, Toby reasoned aloud, “We’ll have to let mom sleep in our tent now—since she broke hers.”
“True. Now hit the sack.” Grant stepped behind Jami as Toby disappeared into the dome tent with the key-light sending a tiny yellow beam to light the way.
“What’s in my hair?” Jami asked in panic as she felt something tug and pull every time she turned her head.
“A tent pole.” Grant’s chuckle rumbled through the suddenly quiet night. “Stay still while I untangle your hair.”
“Yes, sir,” Jami retorted, snapping a Toby-like salute which she immediately regretted as her head jerked back painfully. “Ouch!”
“I told you to stay still.”
She felt Grant’s sure warm fingers at the nape of her neck as he gently unthreaded her hair, strand by strand to untwine it from the pole. Trying not to think about his touch or his disturbing nearness, Jami gazed upward, the only direction available to her as he worked on her hair.
Stars twinkled in a billion points of fairy light against midnight skies as a peaceful blanket cloaked the mountainside. How had Jami imagined the mountain night frightening? She’d never experienced such a calm, serene place. It felt magical. So did Grant’s touch as he skimmed his hands from Jami’s now freed hair to caress her neck and then her shoulders. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“Maybe.” Jami pivoted upon the crumpled canvas as she turned to face him.
“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity,” he whispered against her ear in a low throaty growl.
“What opportunity?”
“This.” Grant bent his head, slanting his mouth over hers, his powerful arms wrapping around her as if he’d never let her go. His lips captured hers in a dizzying kiss, gentle at first, then increasingly demanding to rob her of breath and reason.
The world dropped away, nothing existing other than Jami and Grant, hearts and bodies entwined as his mouth plundered hers. Lost in the wonder of his embrace, she moaned as his tongue darted between her teeth to torture hers in an exquisite duel.
Jami melted against him, skin fusing skin as her body molded to his. Desire exploded inside her, surging up from her core like liquid fire. She wanted this man. She craved this man. She needed this man...
She loved this man.
Jami’s mind locked at her silent admission. She pushed away, tearing her lips from his. “Stop.”
“Jami,” he moaned, trying to reclaim her mouth. “You drive me insane.”
“Don’t blame me for your insanity.” She turned away, rallying her willpower as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.
“I’ve never known a woman like you.”
“You do now.” Jami fought her desire to throw herself back in his arms.
“I want to know you better.” His fingertips drifted down her cheekbone to skim her chin and send a trail of sparks along her throat. “I want to know everything about you.”
“You might not like what you find out.”
“Oh, but I will.” Grant’s eyes gleamed in the starlight. “I’ve spent my entire life searching for you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Jami replied, her voice shaky and her heart beating as wildly as a trapped hummingbird.
“Does it frighten you?” He slid his arm from around her back, but didn’t step away.
“Please, ah, we should find my sleeping bag and my tote.” Jami tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spun around distraught, reminding herself that he was a womanizer. “It’s under here somewhere.”
“Your sleeping bag?” Grant repeated, his velvet tones still rich with passion. “Fantastic idea, woman. Toby must be asleep by now.” He reach out to touch her face, then drifted a finger over her bottom lip, moist and burning from his kiss. Grant’s voice dropped even lower, tingling along Jami’s spine. “Ever made love under the stars?”
“No, and I don’t plan to start tonight.” Desperately trying to ignore him, she began searching the canvas for solid lumps. She stooped over to pat a large bump. “I think this is my tote bag.”
Grant aimed the beam of his flashlight on the spot. “Here. Hold this while I lift up the canvas.” Once again, he seemed to recognize her growing panic. “We’ll get you safely ensconced in the tent next to your son.”
Tenderly, he bundled Jami into the sleeping bag next to Toby, a bag still warm from Grant’s big body. In exchange, he commandeered her bag and took it outside the dome tent to settle in for the night, ignoring her protests.
As a rosy golden dawn spilled over the mountains, Jami lay wide-awake, still pondering the fact she could no longer deny. She was in love with Grant Carrington. More amazing still, what if Grant’s feelings matched hers? She savored the thought, examining and contemplating it as if it were a rare jewel to be cherished and secreted. Her mood buoyed, Jami decided to cook breakfast and prove that she could master camping, despite the tent fiasco. Without waking Toby, she squirmed out of her sleeping bag, flinching at the frigid morning air. Hugging herself and rubbing her arms for warmth, she padded over to the cooler. Inside, she found a plastic container of grated potatoes, a carton of eggs, and a bag of sausage links. A cinch!
Next she sorted through things to unearth the heavy frying pan Grant had used the previous night and some heavy-duty aluminum foil. Quietly, so as not to awaken her son, she hauled everything with her and tiptoed outside to build a campfire. Grant had planted the brown sleeping bag in a grassy patch on the other side of the tent, so Jami crept around carefully, hoping not to disturb him either.
After disappearing into the woods for several minutes, Jami returned to the campground, noting with satisfaction that Grant had not stirred. She wanted to surprise him with a delicious breakfast.
Grant heard Jami’s return and pretended
he was still asleep, tracking her movements through slitted eyes. He wished he could wake up to the sight of her every morning. The realization stunned him. He was a die-hard bachelor who didn’t want to share his life with anyone. Especially a temperamental redhead and her son. So why did a future without Jami and Toby appear as bleak as a rain-drenched watercolor? Grant told himself to get a grip and enjoy the moment.
Jami certainly did add color to everything—even breakfast. Keeping quiet, Grant stifled a chuckle as she tried to build a fire. She’d obviously never been a Girl Scout, he decided the third time she attempted to strike a match. This time it lit. She yelped in pain, dropping the flaming match into the dirt. Then she stomped out the tiny wisp of smoke with her sneakered foot. He thought of getting up to volunteer to build the fire, but this ringside seat was too good to surrender.
Jami crumpled papers into a far-too-big pile, then sprinkled it with scarcely any kindling, finally stacking thick logs on top. Interesting, he thought with a private smile. A few burned fingers later, she finally got the paper to catch fire. Jami jumped back at the sudden burst of flame, which ignited into a temporarily bright blaze of paper. Grant hiccupped back a laugh. The puny kindling proved no match for the large hard logs, though a few spots of bark curled and smoked.
“It looked so simple when Grant built a fire last night,” he heard Jami mutter softly as she added sticks and branches, jamming them in between the other wood at random to coax the dying flames.
Grant watched from his sleeping bag, impressed as her latest attempts worked and she eventually coaxed the campfire to a healthy flame. He bit back a warning as he watched her take the raw grated potatoes he’d intended to fry into perfectly golden hash browns, and dump them into the foil in one big lump. She then threw the gob into the edge of the fire. Ah, well, he told himself as he watched the satisfied expression on Jami’s lovely angelic face, there were more important things than good hash brown potatoes.
He felt a sneeze tickle his nose and did his best to avoid it. Suddenly his loud “Ah-coo!” blasted through the quiet morning.
Jami flinched, then glared over at Grant. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”