Love's Ride (McCallister's Paradise Book 4)

by Rhondeau, Chantel

  “This might be a camping trip, but how often have you been camping?” he asked as he followed Chelsea from the bushes back toward the trail to Quinn’s Grove. “You have to walk before you can run, right? We’re better off this way.”

  Chelsea flipped brunette hair over her shoulder and marched toward the hill. “This isn’t a survival trip, though. I want to test my skills, but I suppose do I have to start somewhere.”

  She’d never admit he was right, and it probably killed her to acknowledge it to herself, but it was obvious she agreed with him. They needed more supplies on this first trip. However, he found himself disinclined to rub it in her face. Unlike life with his brothers where he constantly felt the need to compete, he didn’t want to prove to Chelsea how he was right, and she was wrong. He wanted them to work together as a team.

  “How about this?” He lengthened his strides to catch up with her, holding her hand as they climbed the hill. “We take this camping trip and ease my worries about our skill level, seeing how things go. Once we’re successful campers, we’ll do things your way next time.”

  Chelsea struggled next to him, fighting her way up the slightly damp hill. When they reached the top, she turned to face him. “That sounds good, but I didn’t know you planned to do this again. I thought it was a one-shot deal.”

  She still didn’t get it.

  Brad gathered her into his arms, staring deep into her eyes. “I will do whatever it takes to be with you as often as I can. I like you Chelsea, and I plan on proving that to you during this trip.”

  To his delight, Chelsea didn’t argue or pull away. She closed her eyes, tilted her head upward, and waited for his lips.

  Chapter 14

  The roaring of rushing water crashing into the clear, smooth bowl beneath the waterfall drifted on the air like a soothing melody. Chelsea had never spent any time surrounded by nature, always keeping herself on task with school. She’d spent her life trying to succeed academically, trying to make her grandma proud. Her time spent outdoors or on any adventure was limited to a few campouts in high school with her friends and the horse ride and picnic with Brad and Sydney.

  While she was supposed to be building a fire, Chelsea couldn’t help but stare at the water, the pounding crash speaking to her soul as it plunged into the pool and sent a sparkling rainbow across the mist. She’d never seen this level of beauty in the city before. It had seemed adventurous to leave California and head to McCallister’s Paradise when she first did it. The sunset from the resort’s beach had been the most beautiful, wildest thing she’d ever witnessed. Until today.

  “How’s it going over there?” Brad called. The tent was nearly complete, and he drove a metal stake into the ground to hold it in place. “Any luck getting a spark or is the wood too green?”

  Chelsea eyed the supplies she’d found to use as tinder, afraid she’d never get anything to light. Her stomach growled reminding her it had been a long time and a lot of activity since they shared the third and final sandwich while walking.

  “I might have been a bit too hasty in my judgment against that gas burner,” she admitted, hating that Brad had been right once again. She couldn’t start a fire. “I’m starving, but this damn stuff won’t light.”

  Brad dropped the final stake on the ground, pulling a pocketknife from a case on his belt and crossing toward her. “Have you used a fire starter before?”

  She knew he didn’t mean to, but she wished Brad would stop pointing out how ill equipped she was for this trip. She wondered if he already regretted agreeing to it, seeing as she didn’t know what the hell she was doing.

  Hanging her head, she shook it. “No.”

  He crouched next to her, lifting her hand that held the striker and kissing the back of it. “Luckily, I read the directions and watched some videos. I’ve never done this before either, but let’s see what we can do.”

  With a patience she hadn’t expected, Brad explained how she needed to scrape flint from the striker and get shards of it against the tinder. Chelsea had expected him to take over and do it—that was what most men she knew would have done. To her surprise, Brad handed her his knife and talked her through it, remaining patient until she finally got a spark to flare to life.

  “I knew you could do it!” He grinned, bending down into the ring of rocks she’d made and blowing softly against the sputtering flame. “Now we need to feed it slowly so we don’t smother the fire.”

  At least she knew that much from watching the survival shows on TV. Carefully, she placed gradually bigger lengths of wood into the flame until she could stick in pieces of the large branch she’d chopped up with her machete.

  Brad brushed a kiss against her cheek that was so fast, she wasn’t sure he’d actually kissed her. “We can do this, just so long as we stick together. Why don’t you keep that knife? You’ll be on fire duty from now on.”

  His enthusiasm was catching, and Chelsea smiled, as proud of herself as he seemed to be. “You said this water was safe to drink without boiling?”

  “Yep. We drank it all the time as kids. Quinn and Larissa spend a lot of time up here and haven’t gotten sick either.”

  “Good, because I’m starving and thirsty. I don’t want to wait longer than we have to for our meal.” Chelsea held up the two dehydrated food envelopes she’d pulled from her bag earlier. “Do you want macaroni and cheese or spaghetti tonight?”

  * * *

  The food tasted better than Brad expected. With a full belly, he held Chelsea’s hand while the sun slowly sank over the horizon. There was something different about her today. She’d always been kind, even when she thought she didn’t want to spend time with him, but she’d been distant the entire night of his mom’s dinner. Out here, she seemed at ease, comfortable and happy.

  Maybe it was a reflection of himself. He had to admit that the thought of falling asleep with Chelsea next to him, the sound of the waterfall lulling them into their dreams, was enough to make him happy.

  “I’m sleepy,” Chelsea said, releasing his hand to poke at the fire with a long stick. “That was a tough day’s work, hiking all this way. How many days do we have like that?”

  “Five or six, from my best guess. I don’t think we can walk as many miles each day from here on out, because the trail is more difficult.” While they’d made several passes over the island with a helicopter, getting a lay of the land for mapping purposes, no one had ever walked across it. “When we reach the center of the island, there’s an old volcano there and a stretch of rocks that looks dangerous. That may take us longer to get through than I’m planning because we have to be careful.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just rock now, though, right? No more activity?”

  “Not for a long time,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t dangers. The rocks can be hot in the sun, sharp as knives, and sometimes lava tubes collapse under any weight.”

  “That does sound dangerous.” She frowned. “Are you sure we shouldn’t walk around it?”

  “No, I’m not sure at all.” That was the part he hated, admitting that he didn’t know if he could keep her safe even on their so-called ‘camping trip.’ “If we decide to go around, it’ll add an extra three days to our travel because we’ll have to go almost all the way to the west beach before I’d be comfortable crossing. The fastest way is over. Safer and slower is to go around.” He paused, deciding this was her dream, and she should have a say. “What do you want to do? It might cut off a few days if we headed diagonally for the western edge from here, but that will also take us away from the path I planned, where I’m fairly sure we’ll find the fruit you want and viable sources of water.”

  Chelsea puffed out her cheeks and expelled the air slowly, blowing her hair around her face. “I’m not sure. If we don’t find fruit, we’ll be pretty hungry.”

  It would be petty to point out that was because she had insisted on only bringing half the food he wanted to, especially since he’d hidden some extra food in his bag after
she left the office. “I know there are papaya trees out that way.” He pointed the general direction of the fruit. “Along our path there should also be star fruit and mangos although I’m not sure we’ll find any that are edible right now. We can pick the papaya and wait for it to ripen if it isn't quite ready, but mangos won’t sweeten if they aren’t already ripe.”

  “I guess we’d better go with what you planned and head straight across the lava rock.” She sounded uncertain and maybe a little afraid.

  Standing up, Brad turned to help Chelsea to her feet. The dying embers of the fire wouldn’t be a problem. He carefully banked dirt around them, hoping they’d be hot enough to start a fire without going through the entire process again in the morning.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll pick papaya before leaving, and if I can get the fire restarted we can even take a bath of sorts. For now, we need to rest.”

  Chelsea turned toward the tent, leading the way across the darkening meadow.

  Brad hated that she was left with so much uncertainty. He shouldn’t have told her about his worries, but she needed to be prepared for what they might encounter. However, her earlier carefree attitude had disappeared with talk of running low on food and extra days added to their trip. There was a heaviness about her mood that wasn’t a normal part of her happy persona.

  “Look, Chels, there’s nothing to worry about. If things get too rough, we can call on the satellite phone and a helicopter will be right out to get us.”

  She unzipped the tent and crawled inside.

  Once he had followed behind her and closed the zipper against any nighttime bugs, her heavy sigh alerted him to her continued unhappiness.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She unrolled her sleeping bag. “Calling for rescue will mean failure. I don’t want to fail my first adventure.”

  In the confined space of the small two-person tent, Brad crawled into his own sleeping bag. “It would only be a failure if we don’t keep trying,” he grumbled, upset that her goals were so different from his own.

  He’d hoped that by coming on this trip, Chelsea would see him as more than the island’s manager. He wanted her to see him as a man, someone she desired and wanted to spend time with. For her, this entire trip was about something different. Although that shouldn’t frustrate him, it did. Why did he always fall for women who didn’t seem to share his values or his goals? Would Chelsea ever want him as much as he wanted her?

  Something skittered across the top of his bag, and Brad started, batting it away.

  A soft chuckle came from Chelsea’s side of the tent. “It’s my hand, not a scorpion.” She placed her hand on his chest, patting the top of the bag.

  “Better get some sleep,” he said, trying to keep the huskiness and hurt from his voice. She had no way to understand what he was upset about, and he didn’t want to tell her. It wasn’t Chelsea’s fault that he had liked her for nearly a year while she'd barely discovered his existence.

  “Aren’t you at all curious why this is my first adventure?” she asked.

  Although it was now completely dark in the tent, Brad shrugged.

  “I’m a chicken, Brad. I’m scared of everything. Cars, bugs, people... love.”

  “Love?” That got his attention. Still not sure it was a good idea, Brad slipped his hand outside his sleeping bag to hold hers. “Why would you be afraid of love?”

  “People you love leave,” she said, her voice sad and forlorn. “My family is all gone, I have no friends except your sister and Sierra, and life scares the shit out of me most of the time.”

  “But you’re strong and always so happy,” he protested. “Every time you say you’re afraid of something, my mind gets boggled. How could someone like you be afraid? You keep pushing forward, sticking to your beliefs and chasing your dreams. I admire that.”

  “But I...” She squeezed his hand and then withdrew, rolling to face away from him. “Never mind, Brad. I’m tired, and I don’t know what I’m saying. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter 15

  Chelsea woke the following morning, surprised to find the tent empty. She hadn’t heard Brad leave. The long hike must have been more taxing on her than she’d guessed.

  However, Brad’s bag sitting on the far side of the tent gave her an opportunity she couldn’t refuse. Quietly, she slid across the bottom of the tent until she could reach the black and beige hiker’s bag with Brad’s supplies. A part of her felt guilty for what she was about to do, but she also didn’t want Brad having all the power.

  Keeping her eyes roving around the sides of the tent for Brad’s shadow, Chelsea unzipped the front pocket. Rummaging through the various items beneath her fingers, she kept going until feeling the hard plastic of the satellite phone.

  Victorious, she yanked it free and then hurried to zip his bag closed and shoved the phone into the bottom of her pack. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree they needed a phone in case things went wrong, especially considering both of them were fairly new to this sort of activity. Even if Brad had played out here as a child, he admitted he didn’t know much more than she did except through the videos he watched on the computer.

  No, the problem she had with Brad being in charge of the phone was she knew how badly he wanted to protect her. Knowing him, if she got a hangnail or stubbed her toe, he might call the helicopter for rescue. She didn’t want to be saved, not unless it was serious.

  Although she never thought it possible, Brad seemed to worry more than she did. While she tried not to diagnose him or treat him like a patient, Brad certainly had control issues and was a bit anal-retentive. Likely that came from him always feeling second best to his brothers, but she didn’t need him managing her life.

  Besides, she wasn’t undermining his authority by taking the phone. Brad was a take-charge man, and she truly admired that. However, if she kept the phone safe, they’d both have to agree it was time to call in the helicopter. It was a way for her to be sure Brad didn’t overreact and call an early halt to their adventure.

  Torn about whether she should change her clothes or not since she wasn’t sure when she’d have a chance to wash the dirty ones, Chelsea finally decided to wait and see about the bath Brad talked about first. Unzipping the tent, she ducked through the opening. She’d never once been cold while on the island, but the mist blowing off the waterfall felt like a slap in the face and she shuddered. The winds must have changed direction during the night, drawing the dampness toward them.

  Brad sat next to a blazing fire but looked over as she approached, a smile splitting his face. “Hey there, beautiful lady. Nice of you to finally join me.”

  Judging by the position of the sun, it hadn’t been up very long. “When did you wake up?”

  “Not that long ago,” he admitted. “Look what I found.” He pointed to a pile of yellowed fruit on the ground.

  “Papaya?” she guessed, not having eaten the fruit before. “Are those ripe?”

  “Yep. We lucked out, and there were quite a few mature ones. I picked some greener ones to take in case we don’t find anything else later. There are enough for breakfast and lunch ready now.”

  For the first time, Chelsea wondered if she’d made a mistake. She was sure the papaya tasted good, growing in the wild without pesticides or anything manmade touching them, but it didn’t seem like a lot of food. With a full breakfast, one and a half sandwiches, and the dehydrated food yesterday, Chelsea had barely been satisfied. They worked hard, climbing hills and fighting their way through tangled fern plants, thick trees, and tall grass. Should she have let him bring more food?

  “Brad?”

  His head whipped toward her, likely hearing the pensive quality of her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did I make a huge mistake?” She sat next to him, soaking up the warmth from the fire. “A few pieces of fruit don’t seem like enough to get us through all the hiking we’re doing.”

  His bushy eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “I di
dn’t expect you to realize that so soon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t get mad.”

  Great. Anytime someone started a conversation with ‘don’t get mad,’ it meant she was going to have a hard time not getting mad. “What did you do?”

  “After you left my office, I put most of the food you vetoed into my backpack.” His eyes grew wide, his mouth drawn tightly, likely waiting for her to explode.

  “Is that always how this will be?” she asked, proud of how calm she stayed. “We agree on something, and then you do what you want anyway?”

  Hesitantly, his hand crept toward her and then lightly patted her leg. “You don’t know the island the way I do. There is a chance we’ll find almonds once we reach the far beach and perhaps coconuts, but food between here and there could be sparse. Mangos don’t start producing fruit until next month, and it might have been a bad season for wild raspberries. I knew we’d find papaya since they grow all year long, but everything else is chancy.”

  Chelsea breathed in and out deeply, remembering he had tried to tell her that before when she insisted they could find food. “What about bugs?” she asked. “They eat those all the time on survival shows. We could make it work.”

  “If you want to hunt creepy crawlies, I'll be right there with you,” he said, squeezing her thigh. “I’ll do whatever you want. The extra food was supposed to be a backup plan. I figured it wouldn’t matter if we never used it, but I wanted it there if we needed it.”

  “So why tell me now?”

  His hazel eyes looked gray in the morning light, and when they locked on hers, Chelsea found it hard to catch her breath. Something about him drew her at the same time as she tried to run from his affections.