Left For Wild: A Stranded in the Wilderness Romance

by Harloe Rae

  I nod while scrutinizing the assault on a few nearby pines. Windstorms can be disastrous on their own, but tornados aren’t common in these parts. The whistling in my ears rises several decibels. “My hunch is that we’re definitely getting some snow.”

  “Okay, we’re wasting time. What should we do? We need a plan, boss.” Blakely reaches for her hat and gloves, shoving them on with an urgency I feel roiling in my gut.

  I smirk at the nickname we’ve coined each other. “There isn’t an ideal spot to build a shelter, with all these trees. They’ll block some of the weather, but we could search for a clearing. Should we wander farther southeast and see what we find? We can follow the river downstream.”

  She studies our crowded surroundings. A dense collection of dark green creates a cocoon that swaddles us from all directions. “I’ve never been in such a thick forest. From a quick drive-by view, they always seem like an inaccessible fortress. No wonder people get lost or left behind.”

  “Or choose to stay away in general.”

  “They’re the wise ones.”

  “So, you’re not interested in visiting again?” I barely conceal the humor from my voice. There’s no doubt she sees the crinkles framing my eyes.

  Blakely pops out a hip. “Let’s see how this trip wraps up first, huh?”

  “Fair enough.” After grabbing our bags, I point straight ahead into a vast expanse of uncharted territory. “Do you want to lead?”

  Her slender neck quivers with a laugh. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  I’m transfixed by the column of her throat. “How about we walk next to each other?”

  She coos a sweet tune. “Aww, is this a partnership or what? I’d love to take this journey beside you.”

  Something warm and gooey spreads through my chest. I try to ignore the soothing sensation while schooling my features. “Great. Let’s, uh, go then.”

  When she reaches for my hand, I almost topple sideways. The ease of her action is usually reserved for established couples, those who share more than a goal of escaping the most primitive of conditions. Or so I thought. With a quick glance, I find a grin twitching Blakely’s lips. Maybe this so-called team we’re forming will gain a deeper meaning. But a man can only expect to be granted so much.

  She tugs me forward. “Are we going?”

  I shake off the potential—or more likely fabricated—significance and match her stride. “Yeah, of course.”

  “What’s distracting you?” She glances behind us, as if a trail of clues is waiting.

  You. That’s the correct and only answer, but far too revealing. “Other than staying alive?”

  Blakely huffs. “Yeah, okay. That was a stupid question.”

  “There’s no such thing,” I joke. But speaking of. “Do you like winter?”

  The glare she pins on me couldn’t pierce a leaf. “Right now? Not so much. I’m feeling a tad betrayed. That season has always been good to me. Minnesota weather can be a beast, but I’m realizing how spoiled we are down there. How about you?”

  I shrug. Spending most of the last five years locked indoors has made me appreciate fresh air, regardless of temperature. “South Dakota is mild in comparison. Chicago, too. You won’t hear me complaining about being cold there.”

  “Fall is just blooming back home. That’s my favorite time of year. The weather is just crisp enough to need a sweater and scarf.” Her tone is so full of mourning that the hollow loss resonates in my stomach.

  I want to promise that she’ll be there again before the season is over. That’s not a guarantee, though. I settle for veering into a safer lane. “It’s very odd going from one extreme—”

  Blakely’s steady pace slams to an alarming halt. She latches onto my arm with an iron grip. “What the hell is that?”

  I track her frozen stare to a large lump several feet in front of us, mostly buried in snow and dirt. The rounded object isn’t moving and probably hasn’t for quite a while. It’s most likely a fallen tree, now rotten with decay, or some other natural phenomenon. Whatever the item is, it’s been long forgotten.

  With concrete slowing my steps, I inch closer for a better inspection. Blakely is still chaining herself to my side, shuffling along with me. I squint against the harsh draft blowing off the river. Once the oblong shape comes into better view, a smile tips my lips. I straighten and ditch the hesitation in my gait.

  “I think that’s a canoe.”

  She peeks out from behind me. “What? That’s super random. Why would a boat be just laying around?”

  The possibilities are mostly dark and unsettling for whoever used the vessel last. Unless they found a better option for travel. That doesn’t seem very likely in the center of this rustic capital. It’s odd to picture others traversing across these lands. How long ago did they pass by? “Maybe the owner didn’t need it anymore.”

  “Because they were rescued?” Blakely looks skyward, the chance of our saviors hovering in the wings gaining her attention. “Or done with their mission?”

  Or there wasn’t an option for continuing on, for morbid reasons. But why put a dimmer switch on her optimist perspective? “We‘ll never know, I guess. Consider this a prize for all of our hard work and dedication.”

  She quirks a brow when we near the jackpot in disguise, overturned and mostly buried. “We must be doing a shitty job if this is our paycheck.”

  “It’s better than another predator.”

  Blakely swings her gaze in the direction we came from. “Um, yeah. Good call. I’ll reap this reward all day.”

  I kick at the dented side, sending a layer of gunk and debris cracking from the surface. The canoe shudders from my abuse. With another swift strike, the old brute gives in and flips over. While resting on the rounded hull, its banged up interior is exposed to our ridicule. The metal is mostly unrecognizable, camouflaged in dull brown and flakes of corrosion. Tendrils of prickly vines try to strangle what little relief I’ve found. But I won’t mock a gift.

  “This is a great solution. We can get farther a helluva lot faster.”

  Blakely tilts her head, getting a fresh angle for examination. “Will that thing even float?”

  I don’t blame her for doubting the boat’s ability and value. The entire body appears to be corroded. Rust doesn’t mean holes, though. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  She shrugs and sashays to the front bow. “Let’s try to move this beast before we get excited.”

  Once I’m at the rear stern, she mirrors my bending motion. “Ready?”

  With a crippling creak, the canoe rises off the frozen floor. The weight doesn’t tweak my muscles. Quite the opposite, since there’s hardly a strain at all. We get the vessel moved near the shore within a handful of strides. Considering the overall size, that could prove the condition is worse than I thought. I’m not ready to lift the white flag quite yet. The brunette bombshell beside me seems to carry the same determination as she gives the worn deck a loving pat.

  I straighten and brush the dirt off my hands. Blakely is chomping on her bottom lip when I glance over. That same anxiety is twitching in my gut. With a shove, I set sail on this experimental study as the canoe bobs in the slight rapids.

  We stand in the shallows, wary gazes locked on our newfound possession and wait for the inevitable results. I maintain a wincing grip on the bow and pass control to the powers that be. The clench in my jaw doubles with each second ticking by. There are no immediate leaks. The sounds of a gurgling gush or shattering hope doesn’t reach our ears. This antique wonder is holding strong and steady despite all of the surface evidence suggesting otherwise.

  A tug tips the length this way and that, but the status doesn’t change. This would be the point I’d gladly take a risk and hop onboard. But Blakely is far too precious for that impulsive business. “On the bright side, we didn’t find a boat made of wood.”

  She laughs at my attempt for humor. “It would’ve shattered with the first contact of your boo
t.”

  “This bad boy has more glory to seek.” I rub at a patch of rust. “Or I’m being foolishly optimistic.”

  Her gloved palm swats the frosty air. “No such thing.”

  I watch our potential escape pod for another tense minute. The interior remains free of moisture. “Okay, phase one is successful. Our next test is adding weight to the load.”

  “Is this the part where I volunteer?” Her cringe is almost comical.

  I snort at the ridiculous possibility of that ever being the case. “No, I’ll be the sinking crash dummy.”

  Blakely sweeps an arm toward me. “Well, if you insist.”

  “Will you hold this for a second?” I nod at the edge still in my fist. “I need to find some oars, or what will substitute well enough. Just in case this is a success.”

  Once we’ve traded places, I jog into the woods to grab our hatchet. I find a decent enough branch and split the long piece in half. Whittling them down will be a task for later. I fetch our bags and toss them into the canoe with my makeshift paddles. Several moments pass while I wait for the bottom is give out under the slight load. But there’s still no sign of water intake.

  A sign trickles off my parting lips. “Okay, here goes everything.”

  With the most graceful agility I possess, my ass lands on one of the warped seats. The canoe rocks back and forth, but remains upright. I brace for a shift in balance or the urgency to jump ship. Other than a gentle sway, nothing happens.

  I slap the flared midsection. “Check it out. I’m in one piece.”

  Blakely twists her mouth to one side. “The jury is still deliberating.”

  “This beauty will give us a stable ride.”

  She squints at the abandoned treasure. “Um, okay? My faith in you is mighty and all, but there are limits. My trust is that monstrosity is zilch.”

  “And that won’t change unless you’re willing to try.” I dip one of the oars into the stream, measuring the effectiveness with a few trial motions.

  “Have you ever done this before, Boy Scout?”

  I grant her a wide grin that’s meant to convey the reassurance in my gut. “Nope. This will be my maiden voyage. Care to join me, boss?”

  Survival tip #15: Trust is far easier to give when the alternatives are more grim.

  Between Halder’s inviting smile that’s turning my belly into goop and the looming storm clouds gaining darkness, I should be lunging inside this getaway ship. But there’s a solid blockage holding me safely on land. Boats have never been my favorite form of transportation. Unless I’m counting a yacht tour of Lake Minnetonka in the heat of summer.

  My feet are leaden and firmly planted in the low tide. I’m not pretending to be brave. Not even a little bit. The quake of my knees knocking is playing on repeat as I contemplate boarding this bucket of rust.

  Halder manages to swing the front end my way. “What’s the holdup?”

  “Just appreciating the view,” I hedge. That’s a bold lie, and the smirk on his face calls me out. Nothing about getting cold feet—very literally—on a snowy riverbank screams pleasant sightseeing. The only new addition to our location is a dusting of flurries whipping through the evergreens. Those small flakes give a warning that I don’t need. I tremble against the chill, and a ripple blips across the water.

  A screech of metal has my eyes snapping to Halder’s shifting body. “Do you need a better incentive?”

  “That sounds promising. What are my options?” Is he going to strip? In all honesty, that would do the trick. I’d soak myself in this ice bath trying to reach him in two seconds flat. After all, he would need a blanket of warmth after putting himself on display for my benefit.

  “You can get in on your own, or I can provide assistance.” He quirks a brow.

  “Well, that’s not nearly as appealing.”

  “What were you imagining?”

  I look skyward, checking out the clouds and ignoring the blush attacking my face. “Nothing much. Maybe a game or riddle?”

  That doesn’t make any sense. I almost groan until Halder flicks water at me. The playful move has me hovering in favor of leaping in beside him. That seems reckless, though. I don’t want us to topple over.

  Speaking of, that’s a solid concern to voice. “Is it going to tip over?”

  “Nope.” He jostles this way and that to demonstrate.

  I’m sure the pinch in my expression conveys my lack of confidence in this situation. “You’re one person. Maybe adding another is the limit. I can’t handle more surprises.”

  This guy looks happier than a kid in a chocolate factory. His smile can probably be seen from the moon. “But this is a very good one.”

  The tension in my features doesn’t ease. If anything, a pulse of pressure builds behind my temples. “That hasn’t been proven.”

  “Yet,” he adds.

  “Okay, listen. I’ve never judged more than a few books by their cover, but we’re in a severe situation. This canoe is in rough shape, Halder. I mean, really. You’re making it look worthy of a magazine cover, but that doesn’t mean I trust the hunk of junk to float us downstream.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His wink has my knees going weaker.

  “As you should. Without you, I’d take my chances on foot. I’m willing to peel back rotting surface layers to see the true beauty, but this is a tad extreme.” I gulp down a lungful of cleansing air and dig for the courage to be honest. “Water sports have never been my jam. I might be a tad scared.”

  A fierce gust of wind at my back seems to force me onward. That encouraging shove almost makes me faceplant. I shoot a glare at the whipping trees behind me. Message received. Mother Nature wants me to shit or get off the pot. She isn’t the only one.

  Halder steers the boat until its tip bumps my leg. “I promise to protect you. That includes during this very useful mode of coasting. Just humor me, okay?”

  He aims straight for my soft heart, of course. I point a shaky finger at him. “If I fall in, you better come after me.”

  Another laugh bumbles out of him. “You’re too much.”

  In a move any pole vaulter would be jealous of, Halder hops out of the boat and lands in front of me. He doesn’t even make a splash. I want to clap because that level of tact is impressive for a gymnast, let alone a man of his stature. Before I can react, he scoops me up and plops my butt on a very narrow bench in the freaking canoe. A muted yelp dies in my throat when he immediately follows, taking a seat on the opposite end. I feel paralyzed from the succession of rapid actions.

  Smug satisfaction bleeds off his smirking lips. “There. Was that so difficult?”

  Mobility returns to my body, but I just blink at him. “Uh, thanks.”

  He wiggles his brows. “My pleasure.”

  “This should be interesting.” I adjust positions without making too much of a production. This dinghy is little more than a concave interior with two beams across where we’re perching. I imagine stability is questionable at best.

  Halder chuckles at my rigid movements. “You don’t need to be so careful. We’re safe in here. The curved bottom and walls are designed for balance.”

  I peek over at him from the corner of my eye. “If I recall correctly, you’ve never driven one of these before. Did you suddenly earn your badge in river travel?”

  “I’ve been in plenty of canoes and boats, Blakely. Just not as the main man in control.”

  A disapproving hum vibrates my throat. “Your earlier announcement was a tad misleading.”

  “I apologize.” The tinkle in his eyes says he’s not sorry in the least.

  “So, Captain. How well versed are you in nautical terms?”

  His shoulders bounce with a husky laugh. The rich sound makes me shiver. “Not very. But I can give you a lesson on the parts of a boat.”

  “Please, enlighten me. My knowledge is squat. I’m sure that comes as a huge shock based on my willingness to board this rickety beast.”

  “Tha
t,” he hitches a thumb behind him, “is the stern. You’re near the bow. The hull is what makes up the main exterior. There’s the keen underneath. Overall, this type of shape is crafted for a smooth ride.”

  “So you say. And I find myself almost ready to agree. Minimal bumps so far.” I hold up a hand and watch my arm remain steady.

  “We haven’t left our dock yet.” He lifts one of the spliced branches from its anchored spot in the shallows and the boat glides sideways. “See? I’ve been holding us in place with these oars.”

  Somehow I missed that massive detail. “Okay, great. I’m freaking clueless, and too focused on staying dry. When are we moving? Shouldn’t that happen soon?”

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  “Things are bound to get rocky.”

  A furious rhythm kicks up against my ribs. “Are you trying to freak me out?”

  He paddles us a bit farther along the embankment without giving the river too much open rein for sweeping us away. “I’m just being upfront so you can prepare to be unsteady and tipsy. Maybe it’ll be a perfectly soothing journey. This boat is capable of that. Don’t let the dents and dings fool you. Either way, we’ll be just fine.”

  “I really appreciate the abundant enthusiasm.” My deadpan tone reveals pure sarcasm.

  “You’re bringing out my sunny disposition.”

  “What if we hit rapids or a waterfall?”

  “We row to shore like our asses are on fire. Worst case? We tuck and roll.”

  I swallow against the acid bubbling in my stomach. No big deal. This is a means to an end. Just pull the ripcord. “Let’s do it.”

  He raises the oars so the wood no longer drags against the rocky floor. The churning in my belly eases when we don’t immediately lurch forward at breakneck speed. I hold my posture at a standstill meant for sculptures. We glide slow enough for me to relax the pinching strain in my muscles. The natural pace is manageable as the boat drifts along with the gentle flow. But will this last? A glance upward has me ready to duck and cover.