[2015] Just the Essentials

by Shari L. Tapscott

  Another hour or so goes by, and I stop worrying about our destination. As expected, the day’s grown warm.

  “Tell me what happened with you and Elizabeth,” I blurt out.

  I bite my lip, almost wishing I hadn’t said anything.

  Jack stops, surprised. “Elizabeth?”

  Feeling guilty for bringing it up, I study a rock. “Peter told me you dated her for a while.”

  “A long time ago. Elizabeth went to Junction to go to school. She comes back during breaks, I think, but I haven’t seen her in months.”

  I tug my hand from his and cross my arms. “Then who’s Eliza?”

  A flicker of humor lights his face. “You thought Eliza was Elizabeth?”

  Feeling sort of foolish, I nod.

  He steps forward, smiling that irritating and heart-stopping smirk, and sets his hands on my shoulders. “She’s not. And I can assure you, there’s nothing romantic between Eliza and me.”

  Ignoring him and his nearness, I say, “Elizabeth left you to get back together with her ex-boyfriend.” Tentatively, I rest my hand against his chest. “Is that why you’ve been so worried about Hudson?”

  “I want you to be sure.”

  “I am sure.” I meet his gaze, my heart leaping in my chest. “I know who I want.”

  His eyes darken and then drop to my mouth. He leans forward, his breath tickling my lips. “Good.”

  Come closer…a little closer…

  I’m just closing my eyes, my blood thrumming with sweet, blissful expectation, when something crashes through the brush to our right, breaking the silence.

  I leap back in fright, my shrill shriek of horror echoing around us.

  To make so much noise, the creature must be a bear or a moose…or possibly a mountain lion. Whatever it is, it’s huge.

  It occurs to me in these last moments that the world is such an unfair place. Instead of finally being kissed by Jack, I’m going to be mauled to death by a savage, wild animal.

  Jack, in a thoroughly inappropriate reaction to our imminent death, tilts his head back and laughs loudly. I gape at him.

  He’s our only chance at survival. We’re going to die if he doesn’t pull it together.

  Finally, he looks at me, his eyes bright. “Kinsley. It’s a turkey.”

  Sure enough, the large bird breaks through the bushes. It doesn’t spare us a glance as it passes and then, once again, disappears into the woods.

  I clutch my chest, trying to will my heart’s pace to slow, and gasp, “How could that make that much noise?”

  Trying to control himself, Jack chokes back his laughter, which only causes it to burst out even louder.

  Then, once I realize we are not going to die, I join him.

  Jack offers me his hand. “We’ll reach the lake in only a few more minutes.”

  Why couldn’t the bird have waited thirty seconds to interrupt us?

  Our moment has passed, so I sigh to myself and take his hand.

  The lake is tiny and crystalline. There’s a family fishing from the bank, but other than them and the jays screeching in the trees, we’re alone.

  We walk around the shore, not talking about anything of any importance. The day—this rare time I have Jack all to myself—passes too quickly.

  By the time we walk back, the sun is low, and I’m starving.

  The lodge comes into view, as do at least twenty vehicles that were not there when we left this morning.

  Mindy’s idea of a few friends is half a small town.

  The family’s strung up twinkle lights outside the gazebo, and there’s a western band playing on the stage. People loiter around everywhere, eating barbecue chicken and ribs, playing horseshoes and volleyball, and talking. Little kids run around on the grass, squealing and yelling, tossing balls and playing tag.

  Amber and Hudson seem to be getting along tonight, so they must have come to some understanding while Jack and I were away on our hike. They’re not sitting very close, though.

  It gets cool when the sun sinks lower, but I’m comfortable in a sweater.

  “Want to play horseshoes?” Jack asks.

  “I don’t know how.”

  He grins like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “I’ll teach you.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I say, “Something tells me you’ll cheat.”

  Jack wears an expression of innocence, acting offended. “I don’t cheat.” Then he grins. “It’s called creative playing.”

  Despite my protests, he drags me to the pit. He explains the rules, and I pick up a horseshoe. It’s heavier than it looks.

  “Now throw it,” Jack instructs.

  I give it a heave, but it falls several yards short of the sand.

  Jack shakes his head, his face solemn. “That was terrible.”

  I swat his shoulder. “Fine. Show me how it’s done.”

  He takes his horseshoe, swings his arm back, and tosses it. It lands right at the stake.

  “Lucky,” I grumble.

  Proud of himself, he shakes his head. “Not luck—skill.” He steps behind me. “Let me show you how to stand.”

  The game is the last thing on my mind when Jack wraps his arms around me. His chest presses against my shoulders, his arms over mine.

  “You can’t just toss it,” he instructs. “You have to swing your arm back.”

  He shows me the movement in slow motion.

  Much to my disappointment, he steps away to let me try again. This time I swing my arm, putting as much power behind the horseshoe as I can. It flies through the air, landing in the sand.

  I squeal with pleasure.

  Jack laughs, and we play for a little longer.

  Just when I’m getting the hang of it, he leans close. “Let’s dance.”

  The stars are beginning to peek out in the evening sky. Now that dinner is over, they’ve cleared out the tables, and people are gathering in the gazebo. Couples swing each other in steps I’ve never learned. But it does look kind of fun.

  I place my horseshoes with the rest. “You’re just afraid I’m going to beat you.”

  He sets his palm between my shoulders blades, nudging me toward the music. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  Hesitating on the steps, I glance up at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Just follow me.”

  Jack places one hand on my waist and slips the other in mine. It’s not like high school where everyone just sways back and forth. There are steps.

  “Did you wear that flannel shirt just for me?” I tease, hoping to distract him from how awful I am.

  I’ve already stepped on his foot several times.

  His lips tip in a crooked smile. “Just dressing for my future profession.”

  The song changes, and so does the tempo. The band’s doing a cover of a slow country song, something I’ve only heard once or twice. But I know from the first few notes, I’m in trouble.

  Someone has wrapped even more twinkle lights in the rafters and along the railing, and they shine merrily in the twilight. The gazebo’s packed, and I’m forced to press close to Jack to avoid the other couples.

  He moves his hand a little lower, resting it on the small of my back. The steps are slower, easier, and I fall into the rhythm.

  As we dance, I try not to think of his eyes, which are dusky green in the dim light. I try not to think of his thumb rubbing gentle circles over my summer dress or the faint scent of soap clinging to him. But mostly, I try not to think of his lips, which are so very close.

  We dance like this until the band is done for the evening, and the bonfire has been lit. A few couples leave, but most everyone settles down, gathering in clusters, talking as the night grows late.

  Jack and I stand by the fire, drinking hot chocolate.

  “Are you tired?” he asks when I yawn.

  When I try to say no, I immediately yawn again. “I guess I am.”

  “We have a long ride tomorrow.”

  I don’t want to think about
sleeping in a tent again. Not right now. In fact, I don’t want to think of anything but this moment.

  We finish our drinks, say goodnight to those who remain in the group, and Jack walks me to my room.

  This is by far the best date I’ve ever been on, and I don’t want it to end. We linger in the hall. I play with the key, twirling it in my fingers, and finally open the door.

  I wait for him to step in, to lean down.

  “Goodnight,” I say, drawing the word out, hoping he’ll see I don’t want to go in yet.

  Jack tucks his hands into his pockets and takes a step back. “Night.”

  Trying to hide my disappointment, I smile and close the door. I sigh once it’s shut, wishing…

  There’s a knock from the other side. Immediately I swing it open. “Did you—”

  Jack steps forward, cups the back of my neck, and then his lips meet mine. For half a heartbeat I freeze, startled that it’s finally happening—that he’s finally kissing me. Then I jolt awake.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him as close as I can.

  Kissing Jack is like never having been kissed before, like the first day of warm, spring sunshine. It’s new and perfect and absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted.

  His hands are soft, but his lips are insistent. I sink into him, relishing every second, memorizing the way he smells of soap and mountains.

  Jack pulls away suddenly, his hands still wrapped in my hair, and stares at me, just as shocked as I am.

  I stand on my tiptoes and brush one last, soft kiss over his lips. “Goodnight.”

  Then I push him out the door because I absolutely do not trust myself to have him in my room one second longer. He smirks at me from the hall.

  When the door is shut, I lean against it and try to catch my breath.

  Jack kissed me. And it was spectacular.

  Chapter Twenty

  I’m not sure if I walk down to breakfast or sort of float. Even though it took me forever to fall asleep last night, I’m still wide awake this morning.

  I set my bags by the front door, where several others have accumulated. If Jack is up, he must already be outside helping with the horses. I follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Peter and Sean are just finishing up their plates of waffles, and Peter scoots over to make room for me. Thankfully, Nicole either isn’t down yet, or she’s out.

  Peter passes me the syrup. “Ready to ride?”

  “Yes.”

  Surprisingly, I am.

  What I’m not ready for is another two nights in a tent. I will be so happy to sleep in my bed in the cabin again.

  I eat quickly, eager to see Jack, and excuse myself, thanking Mindy for all the cooking she’s done while we were here.

  The sun is bright and warm. It looks like it will be another nice day, which is good because I don’t want to ride in the rain again.

  Jack’s tying packs onto his horse. He smiles when he sees me, his eyes lighting up with a knowing look. “Morning.”

  “Morning.”

  He tightens the straps, gives his horse a pat, and then wraps his hands around my waist, drawing me close. I inhale softly as his lips press against mine in a kiss that’s so sweet, I melt against him.

  I blink at him once it’s over, and he graces me with his wicked smirk. With his arm casually wrapped around my back and his hand resting at the side of my hip, he leads me to the pasture to collect Petunia.

  “I’ll get her,” I say as I take the lead rope and crawl over the gate.

  The sweet smell of dew-drenched grass is thick, and I breathe it in, loving the way the fragrance mixes with the mountain air. Petunia gives me a sideways glance when she sees me coming and then goes back to grazing. I almost expect her to bolt as soon as I get near, but she lets me clip the lead to her without a fuss. I walk her back to Jack with a cocky look on my face.

  “Look at you.” He leans his hip against the fence. “Quite the natural.”

  I’m not sure about that, but I soak up his praise.

  He opens the gate to let us through. “You know, you don’t have to worry about a four-wheeler running away. It’s always there, waiting for you.”

  I give Petunia a pat. “Ignore him.”

  Her long ears twitch.

  Jack grins and helps me saddle her up. “You have your bags?”

  “I’ll go grab them.”

  Before I go, just because I can, I give him a quick kiss.

  I’m acting like a lovesick puppy, but I just don’t care. Not one bit.

  When I open the door, I run into Hudson. Literally—I smack right into him.

  Irritated, I stumble back and ask, “What are you doing in the doorway?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I was coming out.”

  I step out of his way, motioning him to go.

  “Kinsley.” His eyes flicker to Jack, who’s talking to Henry near the fence. “We really need to talk.”

  Giving him a big, fake smile, I say, “Fine. We’re good, okay? No hard feelings. I even like Amber…a little bit. Don’t tell her, though.”

  His expression softens, reminding me of the Hudson I once fell in love with. But the same feeling isn’t there. He doesn’t make me giddy or happy. He doesn’t make me anything.

  “It’s not about Amber—”

  “No.” I hold up my hand. “Just stop. Whatever it is—don’t go there.”

  “You can’t be serious about Jack—”

  I walk through the door, calling over my shoulder, “Move along, Hudson.”

  Fortunately, when I come back out to the porch, Hudson’s already with his horse. Amber’s next to him, and though they don’t seem terribly happy, they’re not arguing.

  Before long, everyone is on their horses (and mule), and we’re on the trail that will eventually circle back to Silverton.

  Jack rides with me. Nicole glowers next to Peter, who has his eyes on Amber, who’s riding beside a silent Hudson.

  The older couples are up with Henry toward the front.

  For a while, Sadie runs next to us, darting into the brush and out again, her tongue hanging out and her tail in the air. Eventually she tires, and Sara scoops her onto her lap.

  We set out late morning, and it’s near dusk by the time we reach the campsite. Again, as is our routine, Jack and I pitch our tents side by side. He helps me with mine, and by the time we’re done setting his up, Greg has magically appeared in his cooler-toting truck and is starting a fire. The other campers set up chairs around the fire pit.

  “Should we join them?” I ask.

  “Not yet.” Jack takes my hand and pulls me into the woods.

  The horizon is just pink where the sun set, and the sky above us is velvet indigo. From the privacy of the trees, Jack pulls me close and wraps his thumbs through the belt loops on the back of my jeans.

  I run my hands from his shoulders to his chest and leave them there, marveling at how comfortable it is between us. He kisses my temple, making my heart skip.

  “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he whispers.

  “I’m scared of spiders.”

  He laughs, dipping his lips to my jaw. “I already know that.”

  I bite my lip, feeling like a shy school girl. “I can’t cook.”

  “I’ve noticed that too.”

  His breath tickles my neck, and I shiver under his careful, slow attention.

  I meet his gaze. “When we first met, I was mesmerized by your eyes.”

  “Mmmm.” He brushes his lips to mine. “I was mesmerized by every part of you. I still am.”

  I’m not sure how long we stay like this, kissing and talking. Everything about Jack is gentle and attentive, and his hands never wander.

  “We should join the others,” he finally says.

  I shake my head, standing on the tips of my toes so I can reach him. “Not yet.”

  He laughs and tugs my hand, leading me back to the fire. I wonder if the others know, if they can tell I’ve been thoroughly and delightf
ully kissed. I feel different; surely I must look different.

  Hudson meets my eyes and frowns. I look away, not wanting anything about my ex-boyfriend to taint how I’m feeling right now.

  Jack and I spend dinner with our camp chairs next to each other and our knees touching. I don’t know how I went this long without that contact. And now I can’t get enough.

  Greg brought a couple tins of Mindy’s peach pie, and as I serve a small piece for myself and a huge piece for Jack, Amber joins me.

  I smile at her, not sure what to say. “It looks good, huh?”

  Amber nods at the pie. “We’ll see if it can beat Mama’s.”

  She offers me a friendly smile, even if it’s a little sad around the edges.

  I lick some of the syrup off my finger. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Georgia.”

  Motioning to the dessert, I say, “So this has a lot to live up to.”

  Amber nods, cutting herself a slice. I notice she doesn’t get any for Hudson.

  “Are you all right?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  Though I don’t know what’s wrong with them, I have a nagging suspicion it’s me.

  She scrunches her nose and glances at Hudson. “We broke up.”

  I look away, feeling irrationally guilty, and take my time choosing two forks. “I’m sorry.”

  She lets out a short, quiet laugh. It’s a sad, almost pathetic sound. “It’s not your fault—not really. Even if it were, it wouldn’t be worse than what I did to you.”

  “You know I don’t…I mean, Hudson and I are finished. Done.”

  “I know.” She sends a small smile toward Jack. “I can tell you two are happy.”

  I try to hold back the smile tugging at my mouth. I don’t want to rub my joy in her face.

  “What are you going to do when you go back home?” she asks.

  The question is innocent enough, but it feels like she’s hit me in the gut. I meet her eyes, and her expression softens.

  “You haven’t figured that part out yet?”

  I shake my head.

  She pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry; you’ll work it out.”

  “What about you? You work with Hudson—you share a secretary.”

  Shrugging, she says, “I’m thinking of quitting. I kind of like it here, you know?”