Going Wild

by Gretchen Galway

  “No,” he said quickly. “Let me do it.”

  “Why?”

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “More efficient this way.”

  “Is there anything we can do tonight to get started?”

  Sliding his hands under her back, he unfastened her bra. “Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

  His lack of enthusiasm was disappointing, but she’d ignore his bad attitude.

  Especially when he was kissing a path down her abdomen.

  26

  Just before six on Wednesday morning, Grant put the gas nozzle in the Rover and watched Jane through the rear side window. She was scrolling through her tablet, studying topo maps and reading a digital backpacking magazine. They’d be on the road all morning, heading north on I-5 to the Trinity Alps. Not as crowded as Yosemite or a state park and easier for a spontaneous trip.

  He was filled with dread but managed to hide it. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a friend camping with him, and he’d learned to be cautious. Some people—most people—liked the idea of roughing it more than the reality. Even he didn’t like spending more than two weeks at a time in the wilderness. His method of research for his books involved long stretches of car camping in places with amenities and reasonable access to supermarkets. He’d also rented rooms from Vancouver to Baja for months here and there, recuperating, writing, or preparing for his next jaunt.

  He’d much rather rent a hut on a beach in Baja for this trip with Jane, and he knew she would, too, but was too proud to admit it. Maybe next time.

  His honest fear was that there wouldn’t be a next time. She was a city person, and the discomforts of the cold, hard ground, even under a Therm-a-Rest pad, would make her irritable on the first night. She was going to hate bathing with a damp microfiber washcloth out of a public sink. And her beloved cream cheese needed refrigeration, as did the organic cream she put in her coffee, refrigeration they didn’t have. The ice packs would only last the day.

  He felt as if he were chained to the tracks and the runaway locomotive was bearing down on him. Nothing to do now but wait for disaster to strike.

  Jane rolled down the window. “Get a receipt for the gas,” she said. “We’ll tally the expenses later, and I’ll pay you for my share.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She climbed out of the car and looked at the screen on the pump herself. “I do worry about it.” She recorded the amount in her phone. “You’re nice to do this. You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

  If she were his girlfriend, unambiguously so, he’d insist on paying. But what were they? They weren’t even friends with benefits, but landlord and tenant with benefits. Boss’s brother with benefits.

  They couldn’t get out from under the looming shadow of a financial transaction.

  “How about you pay for lunch?” he suggested.

  “It won’t be enough. Just let me do this.” They both got back into the car, and she leaned over to his side, offering a goofy smile. “Please?”

  How could he resist? He kissed her, tasting her sweet, optimistic enthusiasm under the bitterness of her SPF-50 lip balm. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Receipts make me happy,” she said. “It applies order to the universe.”

  He started the car, checking that the lights were on because the sun hadn’t come up yet. In spite of his worries, he felt a familiar surge of excitement at the beginning of a new trip. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “For the same reason you had a checklist for all the gear,” she said. “It prevents disaster.”

  He hoped so.

  They hit the road, caught up in the morning rush hour until they were north of the Bay Bridge and driving against the commute through Richmond, over the Carquinez Bridge into Vallejo and, finally, out of the Bay Area.

  The sun rose, the traffic thinned, and Grant couldn’t help but be happy. He felt good when he was with Jane even if he feared the good times wouldn’t survive their current adventure. He pulled on his sunglasses and tried to live in the moment.

  About two hours into the drive, Jane began playing DJ with his ancient car stereo, and Grant shared his remarkable inability to carry a tune.

  “I’m impressed,” she said.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious. I’d love to sing like that.”

  He wiped a drop of coffee off his lip. “I find that hard to believe. I’ve been told I’m tone deaf.”

  “Yes, that aspect is terrible,” she said. “But you belt it out really well.”

  He smiled. “I’d think that’s a negative under the circumstances.”

  “I think it’s great.” She adjusted the single station, another pop song, and cleared her throat. “I’m going to try it. Brace yourself. I know a few words to this one.”

  Perhaps it wasn’t much of a compliment, but she was much better than he was. He smiled at her so long he almost drove off the road. “Whoops. I’d better listen, not watch.”

  She tried to sing a high note. Her voice cracked, cracked again, and then she broke out laughing. “I bet it’s easier to watch than listen.”

  He reached over and stroked her upper thigh, soft and full under her cargo shorts. Not releasing her, he took the next exit and pulled off onto the shoulder.

  She looked around at the empty farmland. “What are you—”

  He cupped the back of her head and drew her to him, his mouth greeting hers in an openmouthed kiss. He slid his tongue past her teeth and licked the inside of her mouth, ran his fingers through her hair and pushed deeper. He twisted in his seat to touch her cheek with his other hand, feel her soft skin, feel her give and take, feel her respond to him.

  He couldn’t get close enough.

  “Wow,” she gasped, turning her head away for a second. “I should sing more often.”

  He tried to pull her into his lap, but it just wasn’t possible, even in a roomy SUV. “Let’s find a motel.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “No, wait. We’ve only been driving an hour.”

  “Two.”

  “Are we in the wilderness yet?”

  “No, but we’re in Yolo County,” he said. People from other places thought it was a joke, but no. Yolo County, home of the unincorporated community of Yolo, was real.

  She laughed and moved away. “We should keep going.”

  “The tent won’t be nearly as comfortable as a bed.”

  “We have beds at home,” she said. “Remember?”

  He remembered. Last night in hers had been short (since they’d never talked about him doing otherwise, he continued to return to his own bed for actual sleeping) but hot. The way she said “home” made him uneasy, however. He paid to live there, and not for much longer.

  With that chilling thought, he reclaimed the wheel and got back on the road. He still wanted her, but she was right; this wasn’t a romantic getaway, it was a camping trip. The great sex would have to wait until they got back. If they were lucky. She might not realize it, but he did.

  She took a turn driving, suggesting he work on his book. He pretended to write and then put it away. Just because he was saving his secret for later didn’t mean he had to lie about it.

  He’d finished his book two days ago. It was done. The torture on the rack was over. When the time was right, he’d tell her and they could celebrate with their bodies like nature intended. After they got home and had running water.

  Around ten, they stopped in Redding for an early fast-food lunch, used the bathroom, and necked a little in the parking lot before heading west on 299. Typical for August, Redding was as hot as the surface of Venus. “Measurable only in Kelvin,” he muttered as he turned up the AC. He was grateful they’d soon be driving into the mountain forest, escaping the sunbaked death pancake of the Central Valley.

  They stopped by the ranger station in Weaverville for a wilderness permit and another bathroom break.

  “Too much iced tea,” Jane said.

  He watched her disappear into
the restroom, wondering if she’d insist they come back first thing in the morning after her first taste of roughing it. Day or night, he’d never seen her looking grubby, unwashed, or rumpled.

  But maybe, even at the campsite, she’d find a way to keep clean and tidy. He’d have to up his game. Camping alone or with other guys had made him a bit lax in the outdoor-hygiene department.

  She returned to the Rover looking as fresh and smooth as ever. He stole another kiss. Then another. If it weren’t for the impending disaster, he would’ve felt happier than he could remember feeling for a long time. Ever.

  Ever again?

  It was early afternoon when they pulled off Highway 3 into the campground that would be their home away from home.

  He paid for their campsite, drove past a row of well-equipped RVs with folding chairs out front, and parked at their little patch of dirt under the ponderosa pine and cedar.

  “I feel like I’m the landlord now,” he said, cutting the engine.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  He started to make a sexual joke before remembering her fetish for exact records. “The campsite is fourteen dollars a night.”

  “Is breakfast included?”

  “Of course,” he said. “The rangers come by with fresh-baked scones and homemade marmalade in a bear-proof picnic basket at eleven.”

  “You think I’m going to hate this, don’t you?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “You’ll love it as much as I do.”

  “I love a man who’s a terrible liar.”

  They each froze. It was only a figure of speech, but the L-word hung between them like woodsmoke.

  “Popular place, isn’t it?” Jane got out of the Rover and walked to the fire ring. “There’s a bag of marshmallows over here.”

  “I know what we’re eating for dinner,” he said.

  “No, it’s just the bag. The marshmallows have already been consumed.”

  “That’s all right, I brought more.” He joined her at the fire ring, plucked the plastic bag out of the ashes, and crumpled it in his fist.

  “I’m surprised people litter like that.”

  “The bears are even worse,” he said. “And don’t even get me started on raccoons. Those dudes are pigs. So to speak.”

  “I thought people who came out camping were nature lovers.”

  “Most of them think they are, I suppose.”

  “Then why do they litter?”

  He put an arm around her, nuzzling her hair. “Your innocence is sexy.”

  “My stupidity, you mean.”

  “Try not to let it bother you.”

  “My stupidity?” she asked, raising a mocking eyebrow.

  “Humanity.”

  She sighed, looked up at the trees arching over their heads. “This isn’t the kind of place you go, is it? I imagined you out in the true wilderness.”

  “We’re right next to the wilderness,” he said. “You have to start somewhere. This is a good launching point. I car camp in spots like this a lot so I can write. I don’t bring my laptop backpacking. Not usually.”

  “We’re not backpacking?” She scowled. “But we brought backpacks.”

  “Just for day hikes. Backpacking is when you live out of your pack for days or weeks at a time, far from the car.”

  “Let’s do that,” she said.

  “We can’t. I didn’t plan for it.”

  “If I can be spontaneous—me—you can. Come on, Grant! Let’s do this right.”

  He gestured at the little brown building in the middle of the loop of campsites. “There’s a bathroom here you can use. Toilets you can sit on. No trowel needed.”

  “You’re underestimating me. I was all psyched up to go in the woods.”

  “I know it sounds fun, but—”

  She laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “It sounds horrific. But I want to do it.”

  “Why?”

  She met his gaze. With a brick-red bandana tied around her head, pulling back her hair, her eyes were enormous. Aside from the SPF lip balm, she didn’t wear any makeup. She looked so pretty, so perfect, he forgot to take a breath.

  “Because it’s what you do,” she said. “You know about me and my life. My family, my job. I wanted to know about you.”

  Something deep inside him snapped, sank, shifted.

  “Me?” he asked.

  She put her hand on his jaw, ran her fingertips over his beard. Her eyes were smiling. “You.”

  In a daze, he nodded slowly. At that moment, he’d jump off a cliff if she asked. “All right. We’ll hike into the wilderness and find a spot to sleep off the trail.”

  “My hero,” she said.

  He hoped so.

  The climb was harder than she’d expected, and her back was soaked with sweat under the heavy pack, but she was exhilarated by the taste of fresh air on her tongue and the soothing sounds of wind in the trees, a gurgling creek, and her own panting breath.

  Grant walked behind her, and she felt the pressure to go faster than she’d like, knowing he could book past her at twice the pace.

  She stepped aside at a trail switchback and reached for her water bottle. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?” Her voice betrayed the strain she was under.

  “It’s better I go last,” he said. “Otherwise, I’d go too fast and wear you out.”

  “I’d be much happier if you went first,” she said. “Really.”

  He adjusted his green cap, tugging the visor up to wipe his brow. She thought he was pretending to be sweating; she saw no sign of effort on his part.

  “I’ll try to keep it easy,” he said. “Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

  “Will do.” She put her bottle away and gestured at the trail. “Onward.” She waited until he walked past her before sucking in a deep breath she hoped would reach the bottom of her lungs. Working out on the cardio machines at the gym should have given her better endurance. Maybe it was the heat. The gym was as cold as a meat locker.

  “We can swim in the lake when we get there,” he said.

  “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “I usually just strip down to my underwear. It’s like doing laundry and a bath all at once. Very practical.”

  Imagining that fun sight, she cheerfully dropped her gaze to his butt. There wasn’t much to see under the huge backpack and the baggy cargo shorts, so she made do with his muscular calves, flexing out from thick wool socks. They were gray and boring.

  “Did you knit those socks too?” she called out.

  “No, I’d get blisters if I tried to wear mine. I’m not good enough to make them smooth. I bought these.”

  “Did you bring the ones you made?” she asked.

  He slowed to look at her around his bulky pack. “Maybe,” he said. “Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  He nodded. “They turn you on, don’t they?”

  She closed the distance between them and slipped her fingers over his hip belt, pulling him to her. “Wildly.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “Never.”

  He smiled slowly. “I may have brought a bit of yarn with me.” He slid a hand around her waist and lowered his voice. “I might even share.”

  Laughing, she pushed him away. “I can’t wait.”

  He stared at her a moment, making her thumping heart thump a little faster, and then turned away to continue hiking. The creek running along the path next to them was louder now, gushing down through the trees and rocks. She wondered what the trees were but was afraid to ask and look stupid. Pine trees? Cedar? Whatever they were, they smelled good and cast lovely, cooling shade.

  It was all lovely. Exhausting, but beautiful. Tension she hadn’t known she was carrying began to soften and unwind. When they came out of the trees into a gold-green meadow where a waterfall tumbled over a bank of jagged rocks, she made a sound of pleasure.

  Or she’d meant it to sound like pleasure. Grant turned around, looking concerned. “Are you all right?
”

  She sucked in a breath. “Great.” Another breath. “Beautiful.” She pointed at the waterfall, the wildflowers dotting the meadow, the pine-or-whatever-they-were trees, and white rocky peaks along the horizon, and the sapphire sky above.

  “I’ve always loved Trinity,” he said.

  She indulged in another mouthful of water and then marched past him to go first. Since he’d been here before, she should be first, like sitting in the first car of a roller coaster.

  “I had no idea,” she said. About the meadow, about the waterfall, about him.

  About what it could be like. Whatever it was.

  “It gets even better,” he said.

  She stepped over a gnarled root and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Really?”

  “Just you wait,” he said.

  27

  Grant stopped and said it was time to make a campsite—much earlier than Jane had expected. The sun had fallen below the mountains, but there was plenty of light to keep going for a while.

  “Aren’t we going to the lake?” she asked.

  “No hurry.” He peeled off his pack and set it against a tree. “I thought we should rest.”

  “You mean me.”

  “It’s been a long day. We were up early.” He lifted a water bottle to his lips and tilted his head back to drink. His shirt clung to his chest, his biceps bulged— It was even sexier than a diet soda commercial. He lowered the bottle. “Let’s enjoy the moment.”

  He had a point. She was enjoying this moment already. Although there was that one thing she’d been putting off.

  “Grant, I have to pee.”

  A look of dread passed over his face. “Right. Well, it’s like I warned you, there’s no toilet out here.”

  “Of course there’s no toilet,” she said. “I hardly expected you to pull a Porta-Potti out of your pack.”

  “I tried fitting it in, but it would’ve meant leaving all the food behind.”

  “Are there rules about where I should go?”

  “Dropping trou on the trail is bad form, as you might guess,” he said. “We can find a tree for you that can give you a little privacy. Let’s walk up around that big one over there and see what—”