Striking Edge

by Kelsey Browning

  “Oh, no.” Moody laughed. “This is for me and the camera guys. You’re welcome to eat if you can find any food and make a fire, but what’s here is off limits to you.”

  Her mouth tight, Lauren kicked at the dirt near his fire, sending particles into the flames and the delicious-smelling pot of food. “I hope you enjoy being a complete prick.”

  “I do,” he said, with a shit-eating grin. “I really do.”

  While Shep carried branches toward Lauren’s beloved cedar, Joss picked out a spot across camp. She wanted to be able to see every move Shep made. He tried to get Lauren to stand there and listen to him explain his construction techniques, but within three minutes, she wandered away to chat with Greg and the other camera operator.

  Moody was keeping a watch over the trio and reminded the guys that they weren’t allowed to share any of their supplies with the contestants.

  Bradley, without any shelter supplies, found a flat grassy spot and lay on his back with his head propped on his pack. Within minutes, he was letting out a soft snore with every third breath.

  Joss was scurrying to arrange her leafiest branches parallel to the support poles. She didn’t want holes in her roof in case it did rain.

  “That’s pretty good for your first time,” Shep commented as he stood over her inspecting her work. “Now use some leaves to overlap all that and for a bed. You want the dry soft leaves for inside. That’ll give you a little more comfort.” He gestured toward her ridge pole. “You’re lucky you’re short.”

  “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been told that.”

  “Just logical. Less body length, less area to cover.”

  “You have a point.”

  He didn’t offer to lend a hand, probably because Moody would’ve stomped over and taken away both their birthdays, but he did nod from time to time and say, “Nice” and “Good job” or “A little to the left.”

  When she was out of branches, Joss sat back on her heels and looked up at him, her breath catching once again at the sexy angularity of his face. Of his unsmiling mouth. A mouth she suddenly wanted to feel against hers.

  Which seemed like a major long shot right now. Most men would be gaga to have a woman like Lauren draped over them. In fact, a lot of men who were now in their twenties had probably hung her famous poster on their teenage bedroom walls. The one where she was dressed in a brass bra, a red leather bikini bottom, and crotch-high leather boots. In fact, if Lauren received royalties from the sales of that perennial favorite, she could buy the known universe.

  “I suggest putting on a long-sleeve shirt and pants,” he told Joss. “Not only for warmth but to keep the branches from poking you so much. But before you do that, I want to check your legs. I could put on some antibiotic cream.”

  Oh, no. She didn’t know if she could survive that twice. If he hunkered down between her legs again, she might throw herself at him more shamelessly than Lauren had. Here, baby, kiss this and make it feel better.

  “That’s okay,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to be scolded by Moody. My legs are already feeling better. They’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “Good enough to hike ten miles, then.”

  “Remember, you need to tell me things straight out,” he said. “Are you saying you want me to go away?”

  No. Yes. No. “I… I’m just tired. And if I get some sleep, it’ll be easier to forget how hungry I am.”

  “You’re already skinny.”

  The words most women longed to hear. But Joss’s appetite had been in hiding for months, and she knew she needed to gain a little. Wasn’t likely to happen over the next few days.

  She stood and patted her rear. “I’ve still got a little reserve back here. It’ll see me through the next few days.”

  With a frown, Shep walked around behind her, and she could feel his considering gaze on her ass. It was nothing like Moody’s slimy once-over. “If I had to guess, your BMI is below eighteen, which means you are underweight. And although your rear end is still somewhat curvy, you don’t have any hips to speak of.”

  Said that like, she sounded like a total sexpot. Not.

  Joss didn’t know whether to laugh or lay her head down and cry.

  He circled back in front of her. “It’s difficult for women to get pregnant if they have either too much or too little body fat.”

  Yeah, she had to laugh. Because Shep’s randomness was so entertaining now that she understood it. “Then lucky for me that I’m not in the market to get knocked up.”

  “My ex-wife was.”

  A blade of shock ran through her and she gaped at him. He’d been married.

  And why should that be a surprise? You’d expect any other man his age to have been seriously involved with someone.

  But she still didn’t know quite how to respond, and she desperately wanted to understand the ex part of Shep’s equation. Maybe having kids was a factor in their divorce. “Was that a problem for you?”

  “I… uh… I do not want to talk about this.” And with that, he walked away.

  7

  The winner stood just inside the tree line, wearing the shadows like a superhero cape, and watched Buffalo Moody dump a half a pot of soup onto the ground on the other side of camp. Wasteful bastard.

  Still, the winner could appreciate not wanting to give anyone the unfair advantage of a full belly. Those things needed to be earned.

  The show’s host had also spent a good part of the evening watching Kingston and Joss Wynter. With every minute they spent together, Moody’s expression had soured. Jealousy, most likely.

  Even the winner could see the sparks arcing between those two. A wilderness romance wasn’t totally surprising. Being out in the woods tended to get folks’ juices up.

  But a rock star getting hot for that weirdo? Definitely unexpected.

  Moody smothered his fire. Then he carried his cook pot and swaggered out through the trees in the direction of the river west of camp.

  Oh, yeah. Perfect.

  The winner tailed him, each footstep calculated to hide the sound. The host took his sweet time, meandering along as if he was enjoying a sunset stroll down the beach.

  They finally made it to the river, where the land fell away into a gorge. With cocky confidence, Moody took a rocky track down toward the water’s edge. A few pebbles rolled under his feet, but he kept his balance like a skier coming off an Olympic jump. He might be a jerk, but the man did have a little skill.

  Once at the water, he rinsed the pan and stood. Looked out over the river as if he owned every inch of it. Every inch of North Carolina.

  In his dreams, maybe.

  The winner hunkered belly-down on the ridge above to keep an eye on Moody.

  With a smirky grin, the man stripped down and carelessly kicked his clothes and boots aside. Should the winner sneak down and take them? Watching him trudge his naked ass back to camp would be fun. Even more fun if a coyote snuck up and bit off his dick.

  It would be easy enough, seeing as Moody was gazing moon-eyed at it and stroking it into a monster woody.

  But a different plan was forming in the winner’s mind.

  Unfortunately, that plan required the winner to watch Moody yank on his dick for half an hour and spurt into the water twice. The man had no respect for the environment, that was clear. His prick finally limp, Moody climbed out of the water, shook like a dog, and pulled on his pants and boots.

  Bare-chested and walking a little bow-legged, he hiked up the narrow path out of the gorge. Apparently, his masturbation marathon hadn’t been enough to satisfy him because he rubbed his palms across his chest, playing with his nipples.

  The winner took advantage of Moody’s nip tweaking to army crawl backward and into some brush. Snap!

  Shit, the winner’s knee had landed on a brittle branch. Moody whirled toward where the winner hid and frowned into the darkness.

  Okay. This was okay. A complete stealth appro
ach would’ve been boring anyway.

  An owl screeched from another direction, distracting Moody for long enough for the winner to belly crawl to the right, back toward the gorge’s edge. The winner tossed a big pinecone, and it made a soft crunching sound as it bounced its way down to the water.

  As expected, Moody approached the ledge, leaned over a little. “Anybody out there?”

  The winner didn’t answer.

  “If you’re down there, don’t be a douchebox,” Moody called, a telling quiver in his voice. “Say something.”

  Move now or let this play out a little longer?

  It was already late, and the winner needed to rest. So in one fluid motion, the winner pushed off the ground and nailed Moody in the lower back.

  That screwed up the man’s balance, and he stumbled forward. Trying to stay on his feet, he took a big step like a gymnast coming off the uneven bars. And that was Moody’s last mistake.

  A millisecond too late, he seemed to realize there was nothing under his foot. He attempted to shift his weight and fling himself backward.

  But the winner was ready, shoving the man over and into nothingness. The sound of Moody’s groans and curses filtered up as he tumbled down. The winner didn’t wait for the final splash before hightailing it down the trail.

  Nothing could be left to chance.

  When Moody surfaced in the river, the winner was there and dunked the man’s head underwater. Between the impact of Moody’s fall and the element of surprise, it wasn’t hard to hold him down.

  And when the final air bubble surfaced, the winner smiled with satisfaction. “Adios, jackass.”

  * * *

  Joss was drifting toward oblivion when the pad of four feet sounded outside. Her multi-tool was at the ready, tiny knife out, when an animal crawled into her half-ass shelter. Brandishing the knife, Joss tried to scramble back, but there was only so much room and her feet knocked against the ridge pole where it met the ground.

  When she flicked on her headlamp and realized her visitor wasn’t a bear or mountain lion, she dropped the weapon.

  Puck pulled himself forward with his front paws, ooching his head and shoulders in with her, and grinned as if he’d just executed the best dog trick ever. And when she saw that he was wearing a light pack that held a small bladder of water and an energy bar, her heart stuttered and her stomach cramped. Should she trust this gift?

  What if Lauren was using the dog to disqualify her? Or poison her?

  Okay, let’s rope in the wild imagination a little, okay?

  She patted the pack and whispered to Puck, “Are these for me?”

  His head on her shoulder and the swish of his tail were all the answer she needed. This wasn’t Lauren playing some trick. The food and water were from Shep.

  His kindness took her off guard, made her feel shakier than hunger ever could. She wrapped her arms around Puck’s neck and pressed her face into his fur. He finally wiggled, and she reluctantly released him, consciously ignoring the wet patches left where her eyes had been.

  “I get it,” she told him. “You don’t have all night.” She popped open the bladder and took a tentative sip. The water that trickled down her throat was cool and sweet.

  The protein bar, she broke in half. And although she knew it was risky, she wrapped up the remaining piece and stashed it inside a freezer baggie in her pack. She pulled off a corner of the other half and held it out to Puck.

  Gently, so gently it tickled, he nibbled it out of her palm.

  “You’re a sweet boy. The sweetest boy I know,” she said close to his ear.

  Then she savored her piece bacon-maple flavored protein bar bite by tiny bite. Normally, she would choose something that tasted more like chocolate and nuts, but if this was what Shep carried, it had to be good for an energy boost.

  In between bites, she sipped the water. Slowly, drawing the experience out as if it were a seven-course meal. When she finished the half portion of energy bar and licked her fingers, she tried to tuck the bladder into Puck’s pack, but he scooted back and avoided her.

  “Are you sure I’m supposed to keep this?”

  His answer was to stand and lightly touch the tip of his nose to her cheek. Then he turned and trotted away.

  * * *

  In the morning, Joss woke with sunlight striping across her face through the overhanging branches. She blinked and stretched. It had taken her too long to finally fall into sleep last night.

  So this morning, with the sun warming her face and body, she reached into her pack and retrieved the rest of the energy bar. Again, she ate slowly, appreciating each sweet-salty nibble and hoping that by drawing out the experience, her energy would last longer today. She made sure the bladder was tightly capped and shoved it deep into her bag. She didn’t want to risk someone—anyone—seeing it.

  In camp, people were beginning to stir, the murmur of voices making it seem as if this were a pleasant vacation among friends. But that was the last thing Do or Die was. And Joss couldn’t afford to lie around while her competition was awake.

  She pushed through the branches that had sagged overnight and out into the clearing. Sure enough, the camera operators were sitting outside their one-man tents shooting the shit and checking over their equipment. Bradley was peering into his knapsack as if he might find a delicious breakfast in there. And Shep, with Puck by his side, was carefully folding up his own small tent and stowing it away.

  Lauren and Moody weren’t around. They were either still asleep, or maybe they’d gotten up early and were somewhere together. And if they were together, that likely meant Lauren was trying to screw her way in to the winner’s seat.

  After all, she’d made it clear she planned to win, no matter what it took.

  The thought of Lauren’s sex strategy made Joss feel less guilty about taking gifts from Shep last night. Trying for casual, she adjusted her own bag and propped it and her guitar case against a rock before meandering toward Shep.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He glanced up at her, and she was once again pulled in by his green eyes. As quickly as he’d met her gaze, he dropped it again.

  “I wanted to say thank you,” she pitched her voice low to make sure no one else heard.

  “How are your legs?”

  She’d barely thought of them after her surprise visitor last night. Giving Puck a good ear scratch, she told Shep, “Better with long pants. I think I’ll keep these on today.”

  “Good.”

  Was he angry at her for some reason? Maybe the offer of water and food had actually been some kind of test. One she’d failed.

  “I… um… I thought I was supposed to eat it.”

  He blinked up at her in confusion.

  “You know,” she whispered. “The protein bar and water. If you want the water back then—”

  “Why else would I have told Puck to take it to you? Of course, you were supposed to.”

  “Oh… okay.” This man had a way of keeping her off-balance. “So what’s the plan today?”

  “Hell if I know,” he said, glaring over at Moody’s zipped-up tent. “He hasn’t issued orders to his minions.”

  Joss cupped a hand around her mouth, but couldn’t hold back the laugh that popped out. “Sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you sorry? If you’re apologizing to me for something, I don’t understand what it is.”

  Excellent question. “I guess I was apologizing for laughing at your comment. Maybe because I think it’s pretty accurate.”

  “Then the appropriate response would be to say, ‘I agree that Buffalo Moody is a condescending dickhead.’”

  “I agree that Buffalo Moody is a condescending dickhead.”

  Shep’s smile, when it came, did something to transform his lean face. It made him look younger, carefree and relaxed.

  “You’re very handsome,” she said before she thought better of it.

  “And you’re very pret
ty,” he said, his gaze skimming over her face and across her body. Not in a creeper kind of way, but in an objective-yet-interested way. “I think you’d be prettier if you gained a little weight. But last night I remembered that my sisters told me it’s not polite to talk about a woman’s weight.”

  He’d mentioned his family yesterday, and Joss was suddenly ravenous to know more about the people who’d helped form this fascinating man. “How many sisters?”

  “Two. One is the oldest and one is the youngest.”

  “So there are three of you?”

  “No,” he said. “Five. I have two brothers as well.”

  “Wow.” She was one of two, but she and Kellie had never shared much in common. While Joss was into dressing and behaving in any way that was the antithesis of normal Midwesterners, her sister was all about fitting in. Their parents had praised Kellie’s conformity and criticized Joss’s lack of it. “I’d love to hear more about them.”

  “Why?” His forehead crinkled. “You don’t know them.”

  “I’m just interested. I think they have to be pretty special.”

  “I don’t understand why you would think so. They are special people, but you have no basis for thinking so.”

  Although she had the overwhelming urge to run her hand over his hair and try to soothe his confusion, she rubbed Puck’s head instead. Shep watched the movement with keen eyes. “You’re a pretty special guy, so my logic says they’re probably really cool, too.”

  “They are the best. I love them…” He trailed off and stared down at his hands. “At least I think I do.”

  At his uncertain tone, a piece of Joss’s heart broke off and tumbled to the ground. A sharp instinct told her that how he felt about his family was a subject best discussed when they had plenty of time. Because she had a feeling that she’d only get one shot to really make an inroad with Shep Kingston.

  And for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to know him.

  “Maybe you’ll tell me about your family at some point during this trip.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Joss scanned the clearing, but still neither Lauren nor Moody had made an appearance. “Have you seen Buffalo or the Amazon Queen?”