Heartburn

by M. C. Cerny

  Now I felt like an idiot for assuming he was trying wedge himself inside my skinny jeans when he was really just doing his job. Who was I kidding? I was an idiot. I couldn’t read signals from the opposite sex if my life depended on it apparently. Dinah was definitely back at the camp screwing my ex-crush in warm blankets and a tent while I was squandering a perfectly good opportunity to practice socializing like a normal person who’d been lost in the woods and then rescued.

  Standing up, I grabbed the blankets and tossed one to him and took the other. “I’ll uh just…can you turn around and not look?” Flustered, I took the blanket and walked over to the cold corner, ready to change. We exchanged glances and I waved at him to turn around, but he stood there looking about as confounded as I felt.

  “Lia, come back. Change by the fire and I’ll go in the corner to change.” Stalling, he urged me again. “Come on, I promise not to look if you promise not to look.”

  “Fine.” Trudging to the fire, he brushed past me. His clothed chest inched past mine. If our clothes were currently air drying at all there would have been steam when he walked by me. “Don’t peek.” I viewed him over my shoulder and saw his back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “Scout’s honor,” he grinned, holding up two fingers. I stomped turning around and began to take my clothes off.

  6

  Whit

  I should have confessed. I was never a Boy Scout despite my wilderness background and survival skills, a lie of omission on my part. She didn’t ask, so I didn’t clarify. Honestly, I hadn’t intended to look. I promised her I wouldn’t, but the shiny metal frame hanging on the wall as a makeshift mirror reflected her little show. I had forgotten it was even there until I turned around and saw her sliding her clothes off in the wavy reflection before I could tell her to stop. I bit my lip and shut my eyes before cracking them open for a peek. I was no angel. If I told her about it now it wouldn’t look any better for me. So I squinted my eyes shut praying that the rumbles of lightening outside wouldn’t strike me dead. I decided to keep that little pearl of information to myself and save her from any embarrassment she might be feeling. That was about as honorable as I got.

  Yeah, that lasted less than a minute.

  Awestruck, I watched Lia wiggle her pert ass out of her soaked tight jeans, leaving transparent panties struggling to hug her ass, ending with an awkward hop to untangle them from her legs. I winced when she banged her leg and held back a curse on her pouty lips.

  I would have offered help, but the whole I’m not watching thing prevented that. She tried draping the blanket around her to get the rest, but after dropping it twice she gave up and gave me another show pulling her top off. Her breasts bounced inside the cups of her sheer bra. Not exactly hiking attire and I had a feeling she’d meant for that dumb jock to catch a glimpse of her in them. He didn’t deserve her. My dick decided to join the conversation at this point despite my protests. I hoped I wasn’t more than six, maybe eight years her senior, but I had a feeling it was more making me feel like a perverted jackass. My grumpy self did better without romantic entanglements.

  Unexpected jealously coursed through me. I didn’t know this girl from anywhere, but she toughed out the hike here without too much complaint in the pouring rain and did what needed to be done. I found that admirable and far different from the stupid girl she claimed herself to be. She lacked self-confidence that would come to her in time with life experiences and age, she didn’t strike me as stupid at all. Naïve perhaps. Maybe a bit of a sweet and sour mix of my two friends Taylor and Kristen. However, my dick wasn’t overly choosy and rose in her general direction with interest and appreciation.

  “Done,” she piped up from the direction of the fire and I gulped back a response. I didn’t want to be done watching her, so I quickly stripped down, leaving my tight fitting boxers on and draped the blanket over my hips, hiding my body’s reaction to her as best I could. The air inside the cabin was cold on my chest, but I wasn’t going to risk her seeing my dick misbehaving from an automatic response I couldn’t control or filthy fantasies I had no right having. I tried to think of the line of dust that never gets swept up behind my fridge, the deaths of my favorite characters in Game of Thrones, walking in on my guy friends having facial night with the girls–a story for another time, and socks, heavy thick wool socks that drooped restoring my sanity.

  It worked marginally, but it would have to do.

  Walking back toward the fire, Lia stood in front of it, her hands tightly clutching the blanket like a lifeline. We were stuck here for the time being. Gruffly, I stuck my hand out. “Hand me your clothes.” Lia bent down to pick hers up clutching the blanket in a death grip. I moved the bench closer to the fire to lay the wet items over it as best I could, pressing out wrinkles to dry the denim and cotton. They would be a pain to get back on later, but it was better than nothing.

  “How long do you think this storm will go?” She watched the fire, her head bent down arched, exposing the delicate line of her neck and her messy colorful hair in the fire light.

  “Morning, I reckon.” I moved next to her and a shiver coursed through her. Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms and discreetly adjusted things below, rewrapping the blanket around us both with hers in between us.

  She eyed me from the chest down and back up again snorting. “Smooth.” She actually growled, saying it like she was torn between what I assumed was annoyance and something else I found alluring.

  “Wasn’t trying to be. Although, you’d know it if I was.” Chuckling into her damp hair that smelled of coppery rainwater and the fire, she elbowed me gently in my gut. I suppressed the desire to push back into her. Maybe…I was a bit of a latent opportunist after all.

  “If you try telling me that sharing body heat will dry us quicker I’ll kick you.”

  My mouth quivered with the smile I held back pressing my lips into her messy hair. “Okay, I won’t, but I did have extensive first aid and wilderness training to differentiate between hyperthermia and heat stroke.”

  She arched her back looking up at me as if I was spouting a load of bullshit. Her eyes rolled slowly letting me know she didn’t appreciate my moves, so I tried changing tactics by offering a calorie laden bribe. Food should pacify the savage beast, right?

  Reaching up between us, I raised my hand, pointing a finger at her, and her face crinkled at the corners like she didn’t trust me. “Ah, I have a diagnosis,” I informed her.

  “Okay, you’re a doctor now?” She didn’t trust me, not that I blamed her, but I’d go with it, ignoring her sarcasm.

  “You must be grumpy from lack of food. Scientifically known as hangry.”

  Her shoulders rolled and I wrapped the musty blanket tighter around us. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Hangry? You make it sound like I’m twelve.” She sniped not amused in the least. Alright, sue me then, I tried.

  She most certainly wasn’t twelve with her feminine curves reminding me I was older and more seasoned here. Guilt panged, I wondered how long tonight was going to drag on waiting out the storm because sleep seemed doubtful in these conditions.

  Tracking a wayward hiker was part of my job, but usually they were much more pleasant, even grateful and I hated that maybe I’d pissed her off somehow. I should have been angry at her since it was her fault I wasn’t home myself in front of a warm fire.

  “Do you have any medical issues I should know about? Diabetes? Hypoglycemia? Medication needs?” I mentally crossed my fingers that she’d say no. “I’ll have to come up with another plan to get us out of here sooner if you do.” The hike back to my jeep would not be fun in this wet mess if she started to have a legit medical emergency and my phone did not have proper cell service out here.

  Her tone changed, almost contrite.

  “N-no. I guess I am hungry, though.” Her head rolled and I rested my hand on her shoulders to keep her from bumping into my nose. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a complainer,” she said,
and I believed she meant it.

  “It’s all good, Lia. I’ve got some energy bars in my backpack.”

  Grousing, she leaned back and I guided her to sit down, wrapped up in the blankets as I reached for my bag. “It’s not any vegan hippie shit, is it?”

  I riffled through my bag grabbing a bar.

  “I thought you were from Brooklyn? Hippie shit is in your blood.” I nudged her, earning me a laugh.

  She arched a brow. “That’s hipster shit, thank you very much.”

  “Isn’t that what you kids eat nowadays? Whole grains and ethically sourced greens?” I grimaced at saying kids.

  Lia snorted and I watched her nose turn up. It creased slightly, making it look tiny and adorable on her face. I reminded myself to not be creepy and listened to her talk. “I might be from Brooklyn, but I’m not one of those granola loving hipsters.”

  “Oh, well, it’s one hundred percent high protein and carb content covered in chocolate.” I had no idea guessing what was in my backpack. I hoped it wasn’t the leftover spirulina algae bars I had been trying to get rid of from the cute but annoying hippie chick who was always trying to jump me. Callista Anderson owned the organic shop, Dingleberries, in town. The name spoke for itself. My man granola was about to take a nose dive. I reminded myself that a bushy hippie chick’s tantric sex moves were not worth the taste of green algae no matter how good she occasionally sucked my pipe the past few years. After tonight, I planned to clean out the numbers in my phone. No more of that.

  “So are you feeding me to distract me from the fact we’re stuck out here?” She held her small hand out.

  I handed her a bar, ignoring the soft skin and watched her rip it open. Secretly relieved my manhood was still intact, it was Rocky Road granola peppered with marshmallows and vegan coco-chips. A compromise.

  She broke off a piece, handing me half of the bar, which I put into my mouth, chewing. “You must have a really poor opinion of men, sweetheart.”

  She sighed, leaning against my chest and I adjusted my legs around her. “I’m sorry. It’s not you…honestly. I just feel defensive.”

  “Tell me why? Surely that idiot jock didn’t break your heart?” I couldn’t believe I was having a heart to heart with this girl I barely knew about that toolbox jock back at the campsite. It wouldn’t be happening unless I felt seriously attracted to her, but if we started hashing out how to win him back with a montage of pop songs, I was hiking out now soaked clothes and all. My best friends, Hunter and Damien would force me to turn in my man card after tonight.

  “No, I can’t even decide my college major, so I’m sure my heart hasn’t been damaged by that jackass too badly. I’m what my mother calls flighty.” It did make her sound flighty, but I shut my mouth. Best to not agree with her mother sitting here sans clothed and a half-mast hard on nestled in musty wool.

  Instead, I tried to be empathetic. “I’m not sure anyone truly knows what they want at twenty. Heck, I joined the army for two years before I figured myself out.” She made a sound that sounded like agreement and it passed the time as we warmed up. I supposed stranger things could have happened. Chewing my half of the bar, I let her talk it out. I liked her voice, sweet and smooth once she stopped shaking with chills.

  “I was thinking about my aunt and how she lived her life unapologetically. I’m only twenty years old. I haven’t experienced much in the way of relationships and I really don’t want to die an old maid with twenty felines as my only company.”

  “Sounds dire, twenty is an awful lot of cats to wake up next to.” I hummed rubbing my chin on her shoulder.

  She leaned in deeper mumbling, “That’s forty judgmental eyes.”

  I glared at her waiting for her to look at me. “I imagine there’s a process to getting there with plenty of opportunities for interventions.” She half turned to look at me, laughed, and the blanket slipped down, exposing the pale soft swell of her lace covered breast.

  My mouth ran dry looking over the creamy skin of her body and the thin strap that curved over her shoulder. I bit my lip and tried focusing on imparting wisdom instead of her leaning into my lap and feeling my arousal jammed up against my abdomen between my legs.

  She peppered me with an unexpected question imparted an annoyed tone. “How old are you?”

  My response was automatic.

  “I’m twenty-eight.” I wondered if she was asking to make sure I wasn’t some old pervert. Eight years wasn’t a huge age gap between us, but I’d done my stint in the army and seen a few things of the world that might make her cry at night if she knew.

  “And your stance on relationships?”

  Feeling oddly put on the spot, my initial comeback sounded way more defensive than I intend it to be. “I find love a bit overrated.” I wasn’t sure if Lia was querying me to hook up or berate me for being a relatively normal adult single guy in his late twenties who hadn’t really been looking around for the quote on quote, the one.

  “Of course you would.” She huffed, almost knocking my nose out of joint with her head. “Men don’t start looking for love until they’re at least thirty and still not in a committed relationship. You’ve gotta have that one friend who’s getting married to ruin it for the rest of you and even then you don’t call it love.”

  She’d definitely dismissed me.

  It wasn’t impossible, I just didn’t know if love was for me or not.

  “Not everyone is looking for a relationship.” I replied.

  “That’s for sure.” Her brow wrinkled and I’d bet the last granola bar she was thinking about that idiot football dude.

  “Cynical.” She turned, giving me a dirty look and I wondered how we got here, to this impasse. I pointed at her, letting my finger playfully flick her pert nose. “But not entirely untrue.”

  I thought about Hunter and Damien, my best friends from school, cousins and different as night and day. They were a perfect yin and yang. Hunter finally fessed up to loving his best friend Taylor for years while Damien was still playing the field hard pinning for one girl in particular. It had become a tired joke amongst us all because it was obvious they’d get together sooner or later.

  “I said I found it overrated, not that I didn’t think it was impossible.” I did have that one friend on the cusp of getting married, but his relationship was the stuff of fairytales.

  Truthfully, I was somewhere in between. My work schedule made dating difficult at best. Not a ton of girls I knew appreciated a guy who worked twelve hour shifts like my friend Evan, a cop in town. We usually had regular hookups that weren’t looking for anything long-term. I wasn’t currently seeing anyone, but I also wasn’t bar hopping for bratty girls who wanted dollar pitchers of margaritas and fifty cent wings every Friday night. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but that’s probably why my front porch had a custom pair of matching rockers and not just one.

  7

  Lia

  According to Whit, love was overrated… or at least what I thought passed for love. Certainly all the flowery bullshit that never happened made it all so unrealistic. I was no expert and who was I to judge? I tried to hook up with Ryder West and ended up lost in the woods with a real honest to goodness Boy Scout. A Boy Scout who was resting his arms around me while the heat from the fire left me lightheaded and lusting for more than his cargo pocket uniform pants presently slung over a bench to dry.

  Humming, I let my thoughts wander and instead of the football player, I imagined a bare-chested man wearing flannel and dark green cargos fighting off bears and mountain lions with a hatchet. Next I’d picture him as a neatly manscaped version of Jason Momoa scaling rock walls like the local belayers. Ridiculous really, but a little giggle escaped my mouth and Whit rocked behind me.

  “What’s so funny?” His junk pressed against me as he scooted closer, but not because he was being a pervert. My previous exhaustion dissipated into renewed energy in his presence. The air in the cabin was cold and humid from the rain. All things considered, I l
iked Whit exactly where he was, warming me like a solid piece of granite boulder you’d find in the woods.

  Staid.

  Perfect.

  “Nothing…I just…um…have you ever gone belaying?” I winced. It was such a cop out. What the hell was the point of small talk? I should have been grabbing life by its proverbial horns or cat tails.

  “Belaying?” He chuffed and squeezed me with a heavy breath that tickled my neck.

  “Uh huh.” I said breathlessly burrowing deeper in his arms.

  “Yeah, a few times.” My insides quivered and it was now or never with my second question. I was grabbing cat tails and hoped it was worth the risk.

  “How do you feel about one-night hook-ups?” It was a stupid thought once it was out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure where my lady balls dropped from that I actually pulled words from my brain and let them escape out loud.

  Whit stayed where he was like he was thinking how to play this out and my nerves sparked into overdrive. “Just like that, huh? From belaying to sex.”

  He muttered something about hauling me over his shoulder and without peeking behind me I knew his humor was intact. He kissed my bare shoulder, his teeth lingered a moment before speaking again as if he thought about biting me. “I can’t say I’m opposed under the right conditions.” Mentally, I dared him to bite as hands rubbed up and down my shoulders warming me before exploring further.

  My brashness fizzled away when the pads of his fingers slowly traced my shoulder in mesmerizing slow circles dipping down my arm under the blanket. Exposing my skin to the chill of the cabin had an erotic feeling no amount of secretly watching porn on my cell phone at night abated. There was a forbidden quality to it that I loved.

  Trying to get Ryder to notice me was an epic fail and I realized now how ephemeral my feelings were for him. I would have had better luck with Connor or Mateo, but neither had enough electrical impulses above the neck between them to carry on enough intelligent conversation to get me wet. It was a sad state of affairs my mind worked that way.