by Niecey Roy
“I knew I should have stayed home. Those jerks tricked me into coming. They said we were going camping in a cabin. With air-conditioning.”
“That’s not camping.” He stretched his arms up and the muscles in his chest rippled.
“Nope,” I said, distracted by his flexing muscles. “Which is why I love the cabin.”
“Didn’t you ever camp with your parents? We live in Nebraska. Camping’s the cheapest form of family recreation in this state.”
I shook my head. “No. My mother’s allergic to nature too.”
“In normal circumstances if someone were to tell me that, I’d say they were being dramatic. But after spending an afternoon with you, I think this nature allergy might exist.”
“Dramatics has nothing to do with it,” I said, and he chuckled.
“Here, I’ll hold the wire so you can crawl under.” He gripped the taut barbed wire and lifted it, leaving me enough room to crawl under.
“Your turn.” I brushed my hands together to knock of the fine dirt clinging to my sweaty palms. That didn’t work so I rubbed them off on my jeans shorts.
He said, “Just a sec. There’s a rock in my shoe.”
He bent down to shake the rock loose from between his foot and the sole of his sandal. I glanced over him to the cornfield he had carried me through—we’d come a long way. A dirt road ran alongside the cornfield hugging a thick grove of trees on the other side. Everything was green out here—pretty, even under a blazing sun.
Something zipped past my head and I jerked in reaction. I caught sight of a black wasp, the biggest I’d ever seen. It darted around the fence post near us before landing on the top of the weathered, wooden post.
“There, got it,” Chase said, and I tore my gaze from the wasp.
I pulled the barbed wire up for him.
“Better hurry, there’s a wasp.” I nodded in the direction of the wasp. Except, there wasn’t just one, there were two more flitting around the one walking the top of the fence post. “A bunch of wasps.”
“Don’t pay attention to them. They won’t sting you,” he said as he crawled underneath the barbed wire.
I kept a wary eye on the wasps, because now they were all in flight, swarming much too close for comfort. “Hurry,” I urged Chase.
Just then, the wasps zipped over my head, and one dive-bombed me. Screaming, I let go of the barbed wires and they sprung back into place. I took off running away from the wasps, waving my arms around in the air in hopes of scaring them away.
“Shit,” Chase grumbled, and I skidded to a stop on the dirt road. A cloud of dust billowed around me, sticking to my skin.
I coughed, my mouth parched and dry. I waved the dust out of my face and glanced down at Chase easing out from underneath the fence. When he stood, his back to me, there was blood smeared on his back and an angry red welt across his shoulder blade.
“Oh, shit,” I breathed. I jogged back to where he stood. Pressing my fingertips lightly to the skin just below the deep scratch, I said, “Damn it. I’m so sorry, Chase.”
He turned around to face me, and my eyes went straight to the welt on his forehead, already bruising around the edges. I swallowed hard.
“Let me guess, you have a fear of mutant wasps?”
“Three mutant wasps. Big suckers,” I said. My hair had fallen loose from the knot on the top of my head. I pushed the damp tendrils off my face and neck. I probably looked like hell.
“Big suckers, huh?” Despite his bleeding wound, his tone was amused. At least he wasn’t pissed. “Are you allergic?”
“No allergies to insect stings. But I did watch a really bad horror flick about killer wasps . . .” I shook my head. “Never mind.”
Chase chuckled. “Come on. The house is just up that road and on the other side of the trees.”
“Thank God,” I said. “I need water.”
“Hop on,” he said, turning.
I placed my hand to his back, careful not to touch the scratch. The blood had already congealed and dried. Plus, I’d already done enough damage. I was pretty sure he’d be safer if he kept his distance.
“I can walk,” I said. “The dirt is soft on this road.”
He turned, his lips pursed in disapproval, as if he were about to object. I shook my head to cut him off. “Seriously. I’d like to walk a little while. If my feet start hurting, I’ll let you carry me.”
His brow furrowed in consideration. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay, but just to the end of the access road. Then I’ll carry you to old man Fredrick’s driveway.”
We walked the rest of the way mostly in silence. His mouth had to be as uncomfortably dry as mine. All I wanted was a shower, my own bed, and a gallon of water. Lucky for us, the farmer was home, and he was more than happy to drive Chase anywhere he wanted. I sat between the men on the bench seat of the old Chevy truck. The windows were down because there was no working A/C.
The farmer was a nice old man. He knew Chase and his siblings all by name. They talked high school football for most of the drive to the pasture where a pickup and trailer were parked. I had no idea who’d dropped it off, but assumed it was someone Matt knew—maybe his dad or brother. They had a farm somewhere nearby.
As the old man slowed the truck to a stop, I spotted Matt pulling their canoe out of the water and up the dirt ramp. I had no idea how long Chase and I had been in the water, how long we’d been walking before reaching the landing point. Out here, time had no meaning. All I was certain of was the relief that this disastrous canoe trip was over.
“Thanks for the ride,” I told the old man, who winked at me.
“My pleasure.” He nodded over to Chase, standing outside of the truck and holding the passenger door open. “You keep an eye on that boy.”
I returned his smile. It seemed unnecessary to point out the fact I had no reason to keep an eye on Chase since he and I weren’t together. Instead, I said, “I’ll keep a real close eye on him.”
After saying good bye, I slid across the vinyl seat and hopped out of the truck. By this time, Gen noticed us. She jumped up from her seat on the back of the trailer to trot over.
“What happened?” she asked. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of us in all our disheveled glory. “Chase, your forehead.”
He touched his finger to the welt and glanced over at me. “We had a few accidents.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “I kind of flipped the canoe.”
She looked back and forth between the two of us. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Uh, yeah. In a bad way.”
Matt stepped up beside Gen. “What happened to your forehead?”
“It’s going to be a really bad bruise,” Gen said, squinting against the sun to peer at the bump.
Chase cocked his head as he gazed at me. “Oh? I thought you said it wasn’t bad.”
“It . . . wasn’t that bad. Then.” I dug my toe into the dirt under the long blades of grass. “But it’s kind of bad now.”
“The knot's the size of a ping pong ball,” Gen said.
“That’s kind of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” I asked, but my voice lacked conviction. Mostly because a ping pong sized knot was a pretty good analogy.
“She hit me in the forehead with a bungee cord,” Chase said, and all eyes turned to me.
“It was an accident.” I grimaced. “It kind of just flew out of my hand.”
“And then she stuck me with barbed wire,” Chase added, and turned to show them the deep scratch in his back. At least the cut had stopped bleeding.
“Holy crap, Roxanna Leigh!” Gen shook her head, her eyes wide with incredulity. “You were supposed to hit it off, not beat him up.”
“You are something else, Roxi,” Matt said before turning to head back to the trailer. He shook his head, laughing. “I’m going to strap the canoes down. You should ice that huge welt on your forehead, Chase.”
I glared at Chase, whose smile could only be described as an amused smirk. “You�
��re making me look bad.”
He pointed at his forehead. “Tell that to my head. It’s killing me.”
I grimaced. “It probably does need a little ice.”
“There’s ice in our cooler.” Gen jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the pickup. “We already loaded it in the back of that truck.”
“Thanks,” Chase said. I sucked in a silent breath when he hit me with that smirk of a smile before he turned and headed for the truck.
When he was a good distance away, Gen mouthed, “What the hell?”
I shrugged, throwing my hands up. “This is not my fault, Imogen Mae. This is your fault for playing matchmaker in the worst place on earth. You know I have a fear of freaky murky water!”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d tip the canoe,” she said, her tone defensive.
I held my finger up to silence her and gave her a severe stare. “Uh-uh. Don’t even. I’m going to go apologize to Chase again. You stay here.”
I trotted over to Chase who stood beside the pickup. He looked up when I stopped beside him. “Come to finish me off?” he teased.
My face broke into a big smile. “Ha-ha. Very funny. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again.” My gaze went up to his forehead. “For all the bruises.”
“It’s okay. I’m not broken.” He reached into the bed of the truck and dragged the cooler toward him. Flipping the lid open, he said, “How about some water?”
My mouth would have salivated if there was any moisture left in it. “I would kill for some.”
He side-stepped to put a foot of distance between us. “No need for violence, Bruiser.”
“Bruiser?” I took the bottle of water he handed me.
He grinned as he unscrewed the cap off his water. “Seems fitting.”
“I don’t think I can even argue with that.” I downed half the bottle. My eyeballs rolled back into my head as the cold, refreshing liquid slid down my parched throat. Afterward, I sucked in a deep breath. “God, I needed that.” I leaned against the side of the pickup. “So, are you staying all weekend?”
Leaning against the box of the pickup, he turned to gaze at me. I couldn’t tell what was behind those blue eyes of his. I didn’t normally worry about the kind of first impression I left with someone, but for some reason, I was concerned now. Just because I had no intention of ever dating this guy, didn’t mean I wanted him too afraid to be around me.
“I’m headed to my parents for supper after we get these canoes loaded. Haven’t seen them in a few months. My work schedule’s been pretty crazy.” His lips turned up into the teasing smile that made my stomach flutter-flip. “Why? You going to miss me?”
“Miss giving you flesh wounds, maybe.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he threw his head back with laughter.
“You know what, Roxanna Leigh Moss?” His blue eyes twinkled back at me. “I think you and I are going to be good friends.”
If I wasn’t already suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, I might have blushed. “I’m sorry I broke you, Dr. Walker. You’re good people.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Bruiser.” He set his empty water bottle into the bed of the truck and reached for another from the cooler. “Stay out of trouble. I’m going to help the guys load the canoes.”
My gaze followed him all the way to the dirt ramp where Matt stood talking to Leo and Lexie, who had just shown up in their canoe.
He was glorious. Every curve and line of his body. He should never wear a shirt. In my fantasy, he was shirtless, with a stethoscope around his neck . . . and I was in a skimpy nurse’s costume. I chewed on my bottom lip. It was easy to daydream. He looked more like a model than a doctor.
Gen snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Where’d you come from?” I yanked my eyes from Chase’s beautiful flexing back muscles.
“I told you, you’d be interested in him if you just gave him a chance.” She looked away, too smug for her own good.
“Of course I’m interested—look at him.” I dumped the rest of the bottled water over my neck and shoulders to wash away the dirt sticking to my skin. “But it’s still not a good idea. I’m just going to enjoy the view, that’s all.”
“Mm.” Gen’s gaze laughed at me.
I crossed my arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Anything with Chase was a bad idea. When my last boyfriend and I broke up, we both went our separate ways without it affecting any of our friends. His friends weren’t my friends and vice versa. Anything with Chase would be a bad idea because we shared the same friends. I wasn’t into complicated. I definitely wasn’t into the awkward that might, and probably would, ensue once he and I went our separate ways. And we would, because for me there was no forever or happy-ever-afters. That kind of thing wasn’t in my future.
Except as I walked away, even while making a conscious effort to not look in Chase’s direction . . . I did.
Chapter Nine
I’d survived the canoe trip catastrophe, managed to suffer through the rest of the weekend activities, and made it back home to running water, electricity, and air conditioning—where I was achingly thankful to once again be surrounded by my electronics. My recliner chair was deep and comfy, and I’d settled into it with my laptop, so startled by the spark of inspiration that hit me that I clung to it and wrote through the night.
It was now Monday morning, and the surfaces of my eyes were gritty, like sandpaper. I rubbed them with fingertips numb from exhaustion. The sun poured through the window blinds and my head throbbed. There was no way I’d make it in to work until I got at least four hours of sleep.
I was ready for bed now; my body was as numb as my brain was fuzzy.
The phone rang. Even though it was only a few steps away, it was too far. I sat in my chair, staring at the light blinking blue on the console with each ring. The phone clicked over to voicemail and my mother’s voice came on: I don’t know where you are, but I’ve been calling you for days.
That was it. She hung up.
Despite being bone tired, my lips curled into a weak smile.
She had only called me once, yesterday. The first time in three weeks. The for days was an exaggeration, as was typical of my mother. I was pretty sure it was a Filipino thing. At least, it was true of my mother and her sister. The two of them thrived on dramatics. I may have inherited a bit of it, myself.
The pads of my feet thumped against the wood floor as I slugged across the room. I’d always been a heavy walker. My mother used to tell me I sounded like an elephant moving through the house—graceful wasn’t one of my attributes. Pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I plucked the phone out of its cradle.
I dialed her number and she picked up on the second ring. She’d probably been sitting there beside her phone, tapping her acrylic fingernails while she waited impatiently for me to call her back. She might’ve been timing me, even. Now that she’d finally gotten a smartphone she was all about apps.
She sighed into the phone. “Roxanna Leigh, why don’t you answer your phone when I call? Are you ignoring me?”
Her thick Filipino accent made her irritation even more pronounced.
“Maybe you should call me more often.”
“I’m your mother,” she said, incredulous. “You should call me to make sure I’m not dead.”
“I was camping. It was horrible. I was busy trying to survive the mosquito bites.”
“Eh, why would you go camping?”
“Gen and Lexie kidnapped me.” Smiling, I shifted the phone to my other ear—my arms were too tired to hold the phone up. “And, you’re not dead, so that’s good. What’s up?”
She huffed. “It’s your aunt. She’s driving me crazy.”
I glanced at the clock. It was only seven a.m. in San Diego. “She’s driving you crazy this early in the day? What are you two fighting about now?”
They were always bickering about something. My mother was the more responsible of the two, which didn’t say much for my au
nt.
“That Coach purse you bought me for Mother’s Day? You know the one? With the buckles?”
I remembered it well. Not only had she sent me pictures of the purse for two months in advance of Mother’s Day, but every time I spoke with her on the phone she mentioned how she hadn’t had a new purse in months, maybe even a year. Another exaggeration—she bought purses like I bought shoes.
“Yes, I remember.”
“She bought one in the same color.”
“You’re sisters. It’s cute to match.” I grinned and pictured my mother’s jaw hanging wide.
She gasped. “That is tacky.”
“Cute and tacky.”
“She is always trying to outdo me. I’m so sick of it.”
“I don’t know where you two find the money to compete when you have a shopping problem and Aunt Maria has a gambling problem.”
“That is no way to talk to your mother.” She sniffed. “I born you.”
Whenever she got worked up, her accent thickened.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a grin. “But that doesn’t change the fact you shop too much.”
My mother had a spending habit to rival both the royals and the United States government. I sometimes wondered if that hadn’t been a big issue between her and my dad.
“So how’s everyone?” I asked. My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t eaten since supper last night.
“Your cousin is getting married.”
I straightened, wondering if I’d heard her right. “What?”
“Your cousin is getting married,” my mother repeated.
“Lucky didn’t say anything to me. I just talked to her a couple of days ago.” With the phone to my ear, I left the office and trudged to the kitchen. Maybe I’d have a banana and a glass of milk
“You called your cousin and you didn’t call me?” Her annoyance was loud and clear through the phone.
The light from the refrigerator was bright when I opened the door, and I squinted. “I had to ask her a question.” No milk. I shut the door and collapsed into a chair at the table. “I wonder why she didn’t tell me she’s engaged. I haven’t even met her boyfriend.”
