Wingmen (Modern Love Story #2, 4, & bonus)

by Daisy Prescott

  “I’m not a shut-in. And if anything, I’ve been hiding out in your bed, exploring your surroundings.” She prowled closer and hugged me before standing up on her toes to kiss me.

  I kissed her back. There was a reason I wanted to bring her camping and it had little to do with moss covered trees. Something about being naked in the night air—everything felt different.

  “Okay, before we get carried away, we have to set up camp and start dinner,” I said.

  “Since I have no idea what any of that entails, what should I do?”

  “Help, or sit on the bench and be pretty.”

  “I’ll help,” she said. “My days of sitting around and looking pretty are over.”

  I instructed her on tent poles and grommets. A plug adapter allowed me to inflate the air mattress from the truck, much to Diane’s delight.

  “It’s like a bouncy castle in here.” She bounced on her knees inside the tent while I finished setting up the rest of our site.

  Later we sat in chairs facing the fire, our stomachs full of grilled steak and baked potatoes cooked in the ashes of the coals.

  “I can’t believe how amazing that food was.” Our hands lay intertwined on her knee and she lifted them to kiss the back of mine.

  “Everything’s better outdoors.”

  “Everything?” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

  “Yep, everything.”

  “Did you bring me out to the woods to seduce me, John?”

  “I won’t lie. I did.”

  “We could’ve had sex at home.”

  “True. We have and we will again, but where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I don’t think I had one before I met you. You bring it out in me.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her.

  A branch snapped in the dark woods behind us.

  “What was that?” she asked, turning away from me to peer into the darkness.

  “Probably a squirrel. Or a chipmunk.”

  Her face showed her fright.

  “How can you tell?”

  “First, it wasn’t a loud snap. That means it was a small critter.”

  “Or a very stealthy serial killer.”

  I ignored her logic.

  “Second, there aren’t large predators on the island.”

  A coyote howled in the distance, echoed by others.

  Diane jumped from her chair and into my lap. “What the hell was that?”

  “Coyotes. From the sound of it, several miles away.”

  “Coyotes? How could you tell they are miles away?”

  “From the sound. Trust me, you’re fine. But we can continue this in the tent if it makes you more comfortable—” I didn’t even finish my sentence before she leapt from my chair and headed for the tent. “Hey, let’s make a bathroom run before turning in for the night. I have the feeling once we get inside, you’re not going to want to go back out.”

  “This isn’t the time to remind me about how hot you are. Now is the time to defend me against the blood-thirsty coyotes and whatever is watching us from the darkness.”

  My brain caught up about five seconds late in telling me it would be a bad idea to laugh. I chuckled, watching her standing by the tent and staring into the darkness around the camp.

  “You can see better with a flashlight. There’s one right next to the flap inside the tent.”

  “Are you crazy? I don’t want to actually see what’s out there.”

  “We’ll need it for the hike to the facilities. I need to grab water to put out the fire, too.”

  We survived the short path to and from the small building housing restrooms and showers. Diane appeared calmer after we returned to the campsite.

  Inside the tent I stripped down to my boxers. The air mattress took up a lot of space in the four person tent, which was sized more for two men. She crawled into the joined sleeping bags and removed her jeans and shirt, tossing them toward her feet.

  “Cold?” I asked. She wasn’t shy about her body.

  “Freezing. Remind me why we are out here?”

  I lowered myself over her with the sleeping bag between us to remind her of my promise at the campfire.

  “Oh, right. That.” She lifted her hips and met my body with hers. “Fresh air.” After kissing for a moment, I shivered.

  “Why are you on top of the covers?” she asked.

  “No idea.” I moved to join her, leaving my boxers on top along with my jeans.

  A few stars littered the sky through the screen, but the moon sat too low to provide much light. My eyes slowly adjusted and I could see her better; we were both bathed in a cool, blue light from the dark. Cool air pebbled her skin where my mouth or hands didn’t. When she moaned, I swallowed the sound with my mouth. Our limbs tangled and entwined in the warmth generated from our bodies. With each thrust we bounced on the air mattress. I flipped us so she straddled me, using the bounce to our advantage. Draped in the blanket, her face illuminated only in shadows, she rode me, hands clenched with mine. I couldn’t get enough of her; I never wanted this to stop. Nothing else existed outside the bubble of our blankets and the tent.

  Only us. Alone in the night woods.

  Gray light diffused through the material of the tent hours later. Diane snuggled into my front and I spooned my body around her. I exhaled and my breath created a faint cloud in the tent, but we were warm. The air mattress and sleeping bag for two combined into the most comfortable sleep I’d ever had in the woods. She was right to insist on pillows. Why sleep on a lumpy pad with a balled up shirt and jeans under your head? There was no way I’d bring an air mattress on one of my guys’ weekends, but I admitted to myself this was better.

  Diane softly snored beside me, her head tucked down into the crook of my arm and her hand resting in mine. I remained still because I didn’t want to wake her this early. Morning wood pressed against the dimples at the bottom of her back. I knew I should shift, but it felt too good. Staring down at her, I took in the lines of her face and the small mole next to her right eye I’d never noticed before. I memorized the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes—eyes that were no longer sad. Ever since our trip to Deception Pass, she seemed happier, filled with light. Laughter and lust danced across her face when we were together. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful. And I was falling for her.

  The deeper we hiked into the woods, the darker it became. Tall giants formed a canopy, blocking out the sunlight. Thick, furry moss clung to fallen logs and tree trunks alike, softening the sound. Green dominated everything except the dark brown of the dirt along the trail and the exposed bark of the ancient firs.

  “I feel like I’ve been transported to Middle Earth or some other magical land.” Diane threw back her head, attempting to see to the top of a massive cedar.

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t it? This whole area was almost logged in the 70s.”

  “Seriously? Who would do that?” She turned her head to stare at me, disgust on her face.

  “Not me, if that’s what you were thinking. I wasn’t even born in the 70s.”

  “What stopped them?”

  “Tree huggers,” I said and scowled. I couldn’t hold it and laughed. “Honestly, a couple organized the islanders to protect the giants.”

  “I’m all for tree hugging. In Pilates we do something called “Hug a Tree,” and I think of you every time.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I wrapped my hand around her smaller palm. “I’m not for cutting down old trees like these, but sometimes clear-cutting is the best option.”

  “For the loggers.”

  “Not only the loggers and timber companies. Clearcut allows for new growth, revitalized ecosystems, and gets rid of all the dead wood which would combust in wild fires.”

  “But what about the owls and eagles, and little woodland shrews who lose their homes?”

  “Woodland shrews?”

  “Picture adorable creature with a family of smaller ador
able creatures.”

  “You’re adorable.” I kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Don’t distract me with your bearded charms, Day. Not when the shrew family is homeless.”

  “Okay, back to the shrews. No making out in the woods for you.” I kissed her again. This time on her lips. “Sure, there are unscrupulous loggers, but my company doesn’t want the guilt of homeless shrews haunting our dreams. Environmentalists will make our lives hell, so it’s easier to do the studies. No hippies living in the trees, and no shrews in the streets.”

  “And clearcut isn’t evil? It looks evil.”

  “It isn’t evil if it’s reforested or replanted with fast growing crops like hemp or bamboo. Burning everything to the ground and paving it, that’s evil. And not what we do.”

  “I like it when you talk about wood. You sound so knowledgeable.” The spark returned to her eye and I wondered if maybe we’d make out in the woods after all. “Did you study this in college?”

  “I did.”

  “Do most loggers?”

  I stepped over a log blocking the trail, then turned to help her. “Not the guys running the saws. It’s brutal work. When I was in school, I didn’t plan on coming back to the island and working in timber. I had bigger plans after Montana.”

  “Professional soccer player?”

  “Maybe. Don’t most high school athletes dream of the big time?”

  “I did.”

  “What did you play?” I had never imagined Diane as an athlete.

  “Soccer, actually. Dreamed of being Mia Hamm. What girl didn’t?”

  “I dreamt of Mia Hamm, but in a whole other way.”

  “Pervert. It’s all about sex with men.”

  “Part of the breeding.” I nipped her ear with my teeth, then kept walking. “What happened to Diane Watson, the next Mia Hamm?”

  “Boys. One boy in particular. I became distracted and lost my passion. Plus, I wasn’t that good, honestly. Not like you were.” She paused. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up … I didn’t mean to mention … that summer.” Her eyes expressed regret.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I’m so sorry.”

  “Really. It’s fine,” I lied.

  “Last time you stopped talking for the night.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s better now. You know the story. It’s out there. Sharing it with you made it less painful.”

  “Good.” She nodded and then kissed the back of my hand. “Let’s change the subject. I liked hearing about your work.”

  “Really? It’s pretty boring to talk about trees and logging. Not exactly glamorous, especially to a city girl like you.”

  “City girl? Funny. That girl feels a million years ago. I mean, look at me. I’m wearing flannel and a vest.”

  “You look hot in flannel. I prefer you in one of my shirts, though. Even better if you aren’t wearing anything underneath.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “Can or will?”

  “Will. Definitely will.” I found her confidence sexy.

  “Damn, you’re making it difficult for me not to throw you down on the ground and fuck you.”

  She peeked behind her shoulder, and then peered around me down the trail. “No one’s around. What are the rules for staying on the trails?”

  “Fuck the rules.” I pulled her along behind me when I left the trail and headed toward an enormous cedar that would block us from the trail. She giggled behind me and held onto my hand tighter.

  I pressed her back against the rough bark and kissed her hard. My beard scraped across her cheeks. I knew they’d be pink with beard burn later, but I didn’t care.

  “Are you sure no one can see us?”

  “One hundred percent. Hear us? Maybe. Can you keep quiet?”

  “Mmmhmm,” she said, reaching for the button of my jeans.

  I leaned into her and rocked against her hand while planning out the logistics of what we were doing. If I lifted her up, she’d scrape her back against the bark. Making up my mind, I told her my plan.

  Before I had the chance to do it, she’d unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them and her panties down to the tops of her boots. Impressive. She turned around and put her hands on the trunk, and bent at the waist. I stood there, observing her. My hand traced the curve of her hip and the swell of her ass. Her skin appeared pale against the bark and deep greens surrounding us.

  “You going to stand there staring at my ass, or are we having sex up against a tree?”

  “Patience.” I gave her ass a light smack and watched as her skin pinked.

  Who was I kidding about patience? This was going to be fast and hard. “Hold on tight.”

  We passed an older ranger on the trail about a quarter mile from our tree. He tipped his hat to Diane.

  “Nice day for a hike,” he said.

  “Sure is,” I answered.

  “Make sure you keep to the trails.” He winked at me.

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Good. You all have a nice day.”

  I held it together until we reached the main road and crossed back over to the campground.

  “Oh my god. He totally knew what we were doing,” Diane shrieked and broke into laughter.

  “He did. Might be the moss in your hair.”

  She swept her hands through her hair. Several pieces of moss and a few small bits of bark tumbled to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t even notice before.”

  “I want to die. That sweet, old man knows we defiled his pristine forest.”

  I threw my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You wouldn’t be the first person to hump in those woods. You won’t be the last. Plus, you’re a sexy wood nymph with the moss and twigs in your hair.”

  “Keyword nymph, short for nymphomaniac. I’m so embarrassed.” She dragged her fingers through her hair until she found a twig and pulled it out. “I’m going to the restrooms to clean up.”

  I regretted nothing. Moss, twigs, bark, and the smudge of dirt on her cheek I hadn’t pointed out made her more beautiful. She may not have been an island girl, but she challenged the best of them with her spirit. Not many women would put up with fishing in April or be up for a quickie in the woods.

  She isn’t an island girl, the voice in my head reminded me Diane’s lease ran out at the end of May and as far as I knew, she had no plans to stay. My mood headed south and I frowned. Euphoria from sex in the woods evaporated, only to be replaced by dread and the feeling I had when I thought about my mom.

  Everyone eventually leaves.

  WE CLEANED UP, and after lunch, headed down to the beach. Down the chalky cliff stretched a narrow, rocky shore scattered with a few large driftwood logs, but nothing like the driftwood graveyard near the Keystone Ferry.

  “Besides cooking over fire, hiking, and having sex in the woods, what else do you do camping?” Diane asked, poking the ground with a stick she’d found.

  “Fish or clam. Nap. Sit around. Maybe play cards. Or drink. The whole point is to take a break from normal life.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

  “What are you thinking about?

  “How simple and easy life is here. Not like the constant social climbing, moneymaking world of New York.”

  “I could never live in the city.”

  “Not even Seattle?”

  “No way. When I’m over there for business I can’t breathe until I’m heading back across the water.”

  “Have you ever lived in a city? Maybe you need to find the right one.”

  “Wouldn’t want to.”

  “Ever?”

  “Nope. What about you? Think you’ll move back?”

  “To New York? It doesn’t feel like home anymore, but I love living in a city. Seattle might work. Do you think you’d ever live anywhere but here?”

  “Don’t think so. After I tore up my knee and lost my mom I kne
w I was meant to be an island boy for life.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I dreamed big. Got fancy. Look what happened?” I didn’t have to say another word. She knew what I meant.

  “That was all bad luck. Nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “John?”

  Keeping my gaze out over the water, I refused to meet her eyes, even after she took my hand in hers.

  “It’s all ancient history. I’ve made my life, and it’s a good one.” I dropped her hand and then strode further down the beach, hoping to shut down the conversation.

  “This explains a lot. It all makes sense.”

  “Does it?”

  “Sure. You live off the land in this idyllic setting. One of those kinds of people who are entirely self-sufficient in every way. You don’t need anyone.” Her voice had an edge.

  “It’s good to be self-sufficient. Life on the island isn’t easy for many folks. A lot of people live close to the bone. Hard to make a decent living when there aren’t a lot of jobs. You need to take care of yourself.”

  She sighed behind me. “It’s one thing to be self-sufficient and another to be isolated.”

  “There’s a reason island people are island people. Part of us doesn’t like how the rest of the world operates. You said it yourself about the social climbing and the focus on money. Here, it’s about living a life, day by day, season by season.” This conversation reminded me how different Diane and I were. Our pasts were about as opposite as they could be.

  “I guess I haven’t seen that side of things. The beach is nice, and Langley’s so charming and quaint.”

  “That’s what the tourists see. They don’t venture into the woods to see people heating their homes with wood stoves and getting help from Good Cheer. Don’t let your wealthy girl ideals cloud your perception.”

  “Ouch. I’m not a wealthy girl. I married a man from wealth, but that isn’t me.”

  “It’s not?” I lumped her in with the asshole. This day was heading south and gaining speed. “You miss your life in the city as much as you complain about the bad stuff.”