Rum and Raindrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Oram, Jean

  She sighed. Easy for him to say.

  She scanned the street for a specific, rusty old truck that might be blue or green. She daydreamed about how she’d apprehend the driver and pull a confession out of him. Then everything in her world would turn around and be right again.

  Jen crossed her arms and wished Rob would appear and rescue her from her thoughts. Although, it was going to be tricky enough to spend the day trapped with His Holy Major Hotness without pulling him behind some smouldering logs and into some sort of desperate post-apocalyptic fantasy that involved him hot and sweaty and totally smitten with her. Or worse, opening her mouth and scaring him off with her less-than-used higher order brain that Wally had been talking about.

  She repacked her backpack as she waited. Sunblock, a few snacks, water, small first aid kit, GPS, hat, bathing suit and towel in case she wanted to cool off in the creek while Rob did his investigating in the clearing. Tightening the drawstring at the top of her pack, she clipped it shut and tried not to think. Just when she began to seriously consider playing sick and head inside her apartment, Rob rolled up in a shiny red Dodge Ram that must have cost him more than she’d saved up over three years of working for Wally.

  She gave Rob a feeble wave and walked to the passenger side to let herself in. Mandy would go gaga for this thing. All pretty and bright. Big tires. Chrome glittering in a machine’s interpretation of a peacock showing off.

  “Morning,” Rob said, checking his mirror before backing into the street. His jaw clenched and his long fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel.

  She buckled her seatbelt and fidgeted with the strap of her backpack resting in her lap. What if he hated her for what he believed she’d might have done to the woods? What if she got them lost because she couldn’t recognize anything because of the fire? What if she did something stupid such as kiss him?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Rob drive. He was wearing a loose, blue-gray T-shirt that was similar to the shade of his eyes, making them even more intense than usual when he flicked his gaze her way. He had a pair of synthetic hiking pants similar to hers, his usual work boots and a ball cap that said Where’s the Fire?

  “Nice hat.”

  With an embarrassed, quick touch to the brim he said, “My mom has a wicked sense of humor.”

  Jen cracked a polite half smile.

  “You’d like her. You remind me of her.”

  Jen froze. She cleared her throat. “Um. Did you just compare me to your mother?”

  “I mean,” Rob said bashfully, “she has a good sense of humor and comes out with unexpected things from time to time.”

  Jen gave him a puzzled frown.

  “Your shirt.”

  Jen looked down. Purple tank top under a windbreaker.

  “The one you designed,” he said. “My mom has a creative side and every once in awhile it pops out. She just sees a need and a niche and fills it with something unexpected. Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.”

  Jen opened her mouth to discount her shirt as not particularly creative as she’d poached and modified the idea from somewhere else. Instead, she followed the advice she’d read in a Cosmo years ago stating that men liked a woman who could accept a compliment. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He must have read the same article because tip five was to accept thanks instead of brushing it off. And she had to admit, the article was right. It did feel nice.

  “Don’t your boots get hot?” she asked, turning to face him better. Tip six was to take an interest in others. And honestly, those boots had been intriguing her ever since the day she spilled coffee down his front. It was supposed to be a hot June day and those boots were going to be killer on a hike. No air flow whatsoever.

  “My boots?” he asked, frowning. “Yeah. Why?”

  She wiggled her feet, encased in mesh hikers—light and breathable.

  He glanced at her feet and smiled knowingly.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.” He shot her a grin that twinkled his eyes with mischievousness and sex appeal. He steered his truck toward the highway—the opposite direction from the shortcut.

  “Where are you going?”

  “RCP.” He tipped his palms off the steering wheel in question.

  “You can’t call it that. You aren’t a local, and anyway we call Raspberry Creek Park, Raspberry. Turn around.”

  Rob shot her an uncertain look and slowed the truck. “You’re going home because I called the park RCP?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, there’s a shortcut that’ll save us a few minutes.”

  He turned the truck around, and she pointed him toward the old mining road that led them in the right direction.

  “Is this a real road?” He slowed the truck at the turnoff, not turning onto the dirt trail where it dipped off the pavement.

  She shrugged. “Your truck can handle it.”

  “But will it ever be the same?”

  “Wuss.”

  “Hardly.” He turned to face her, his arm draped over the bench seat.

  She shot him a challenging grin. “Come on, city boy. I’ve taken my Corolla through this.” No need to tell him the bumper just about rattled off on a stretch of washboard.

  “I’m not a city boy,” he gasped.

  “Prove it.” She raised an eyebrow and tried to hold back her grin.

  He aimed his truck toward the steep slope that was nothing more than a few tire ruts between overhanging spruce branches. “I just happen to not take unnecessary risks with one of my biggest assets.”

  “Men and their trucks.” Jen crossed her arms and rolled her eyes playfully.

  “Women and their…” He looked Jen over.

  She smiled sweetly and waited for him to come up with something. “Yes?”

  “Their big mouths,” he muttered as they jolted their way through a washout just beyond the main road. “Geez, this road is bad. Are you sure we’ll save time?”

  “Spring was a little rough on it.” Apparently. She’d assumed they could get through, but now she was starting to worry that she’d led him down a road they’d have to back out of—for miles.

  She tried to come off as relaxed, but her eyes were trying to peel ahead, foresee any dangers before he drove into them.

  Twenty minutes later, he shot her a quick look before shifting into a lower gear for the bump up onto the pavement. “Which way?”

  “Left,” she said with relief.

  “Did my manhood pass the test? I think that stunt not only enhanced my virility but also bumped my testosterone levels up to Cro-Magnon levels.” He gave her a teasing smile as he shifted the truck into a higher gear. The muscles in his tanned forearms tensed and relaxed as he wrangled the gear shift.

  “Are you teasing me, Rob Raine?” she asked in a sultry, slightly challenging voice.

  “I am. Is there any danger in that?”

  Jen could have sworn that if he’d leaned any closer with that burning look in his eyes he’d be in danger of finding her in his lap. In a sexy, demanding, do-me kind of way. Which would have been mortifying or satisfying, depending on his reaction. She was half tempted to find out.

  Let people in. She trusted Wally and his advice and, right now, it might be the excuse she needed to let herself get a little closer to HHMH.

  “There is.” She gave him a smoldering look. “I’ve killed people for less.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, his laughter as fresh as the air after a spring rain. “I’ve never been able to resist a woman with a good sense of humor.”

  Jen’s attention snapped into minute focus. Okay. Somebody stop the bus. This was a professional hiking date. Not romp time. She couldn’t get involved, flirt, act as though they were falling in love. There wasn’t a conflict of interest. She had baggage. And sure, it wasn’t more than the average single woman her age, but still. It was baggage that didn’t fit snugly into a carry-on, and Rob was rocketing them toward scary bagga
ge area.

  He gave her a look, swallowed hard, and switched on the radio. “Sorry, I was trying to be funny.”

  She released a breath and smoothed her hands down her thighs, watching the woods flit by the window, trying to get into the oldies Rob had flicked to on his satellite radio. So he knew he’d flown them into scary territory. Thank goodness. He’d put on the brakes, too, which meant she could play and he wouldn’t make it serious.

  She smiled. This could be fun. Wally didn’t say to let people into her heart, just in. And she could let Rob in.

  “‘Rescue Me’ by Bella Bass. I love this song,” she said, trying to break the awkward silence. She started singing along, envisioning Rob sweeping in to save the day. Particularly in that snug little loincloth that kept flipping into her fantasies.

  Rob stopped the truck outside Raspberry’s locked park gate.

  “Oh, hell, we have to hike from here? This’ll add at least another hour each way.” Two more hours to spend with this guy meant two more hours where she could put her foot in her mouth, overreact, and basically give him the wrong impression and make him want to run away.

  Jen stared at the still-standing registration/interpretive center perched on the nearby hill. In fact, the whole area by the road up to the parking lot looked untouched. It was difficult to believe that only a few days ago it was threatened by a forest fire. From here she couldn’t even see a burn area. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

  Her mood perked. How costly could the fire be if she couldn’t even see its damage?

  Rob dug around in his pocket before triumphantly dangling a key from his index finger. He grinned, eyebrows raised.

  “You have a key?” She didn’t even get a key and she was a guide with open access to these places.

  “Best interests of the forestry guys.” He slid out of the truck to unlock the gate. As they drove up the gravel road to the parking area, she half expected to see the old pickup still sitting there. But the parking lot was empty. She sighed and leaned back in the seat.

  “The man in the store the other day?” Rob asked carefully, sneaking a peek at Jen. “Are you two…living together?”

  Jen let out a laugh that sounded more similar to a snort. “Wally?” She gave Rob an amused smile. “No. He’s like a father.” She gave a shudder at the idea of having ‘something more’ with Wally. “He’s great, but I don’t think of him in that way. And I tend to prefer men closer to my age.”

  Rob flushed. “I meant the other man. With the keys.”

  She stopped mid-laugh. “Moe?” She shook her head a bit too vigorously. “Um. No. We’re friends.”

  Rob smiled as he parked the truck. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Was he asking if she was open game for flirting? Or more?

  Oh, man. Wally’s advice was going to get her in a lot of trouble if Rob planned to slip past her gates.

  “It is always good to have someone looking out for you,” Rob said, opening his door.

  “God knows I don’t have many of those.” And it wasn’t as if Moe was about to look out for her and play rescue hero. Not unless her fridge’s contents were in danger.

  Rob looked at her questioningly.

  “Brought my GPS,” she said, turning it on. She stepped out of the truck and clipped the gadget to her backpack’s shoulder strap. “I have a route from last year that goes pretty close to the clearing in case we need it.”

  Rob nodded. “Shall we?”

  “The path starts over there.” Jen pointed to a thin trail heading east, about forty-five degrees in the other direction from the marked campsite path. She still couldn’t see any signs of the forest fire. In fact, because of the gentle breeze’s direction, she couldn’t smell anything other than pine.

  Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. It smelled so good. Fresh. Inviting. Relaxing. Way better than any candle or air freshener. She opened her eyes to see Rob pretending not to watch her. There was something in the intentness of his gaze that made any of her typical self-consciousness vanish. It was as though he felt the same way about nature and didn’t think she was a nut for the way it comforted her.

  They hiked the first half an hour, the barely-there path between the towering pines, quiet because of the pine needles and dirt layered over the exposed mountainside. The first section became steep, and Jen was beginning to feel the workout in her calves by the time they reached the pitch’s peek. At the top she halted so suddenly Rob that ran into her from behind.

  She was speechless. The scene before her was horrifying. Everything on the downhill side was black. Ravaged. Dead. Done. Destroyed and consumed by the fire.

  She felt as though she was caving in on herself and she sat on the ground with a hard thump. Unable to tear her eyes away from the damage, she stared blindly, unable to process it all. Rob sat beside her, loosely hugging his legs to his chest.

  Rob pulled a water bottle from his pack, chugging a third before holding it out to Jen. “Water?”

  Snapping out of her daze, Jen dug out her own. She couldn’t stop staring at the scarred earth. The grass they were sitting on had turned brown from the heat, and not fifty yards in front of them the fire had raved and ravaged. She could see every dip, hole, and knoll. Blackness was everywhere. It wasn’t like in the fall with shades of browns, yellows, oranges, and reds. It was all black. No shades of anything. In a few areas a smattering of tall trees still stood, black poles sticking out of the ground as a reminder of what used to thrive there. Here and there piles of charred logs snuggled in heaps, tendrils of smoke seeping out in a constant stream. She’d heard of forests that had been ravaged by fire being called charcoal forests, and now she understood why. That’s all that was left. Even their barely-there footpath had been obliterated.

  “I guess we should continue on.” Rob stood and donned his pack.

  She nodded reluctantly and checked her GPS, feeling uncertain despite the way her GPS pointed which way to go.

  Rob indicated the lack of foliage and branches that would normally interfere with receiving a good satellite signal. “On the bright side, we should get a good signal.”

  She humored him with a weak smile and led them further up the mountain, through areas of shin-high char and soot, and other areas where the soot didn’t even reach the top of her hiking shoes. Hoping she’d recognize the clearing when they came to it, she continued on.

  “At least we’ll be able to see bears coming,” Rob joked. “Well, as long as they aren’t black.”

  Jen turned to catch a jovial wink from Rob then jerked at a noise. Her steps faltered, heart pounding. There was nothing for bears to hide behind, but there was also nothing for bears to eat. So, if a black bear came up it would not only blend in, but it would be in a very hungry mood.

  She knew she should have brought her bear bell.

  She was tempted to ask Rob what he knew about starving bears and how speedy he was at drawing his bear spray, but decided that wouldn’t exactly boost her image of a competent nature guide.

  After several hours of hiking, they reached an area her GPS identified as the clearing. The problem was it looked the same as almost everything else. Black. Bare. Indistinguishable.

  Trying to sound confident, she said, “This is it. The clearing.”

  After a few minutes of digging around with her feet, she managed to find her old fire pit. “Here.” She tried not to act too delighted for finding it so quickly.

  Rob, who had been quietly taking in the surroundings, snapping pictures and taking notes, came over. She didn’t know how he survived waltzing through burned-out forests all the time. After only a few hours, she felt like a dirty old sponge that had sucked up every bit of pore-clogging soot the forest had to offer.

  “Must have been a nice place to camp,” he said.

  It was. Before she’d been there.

  Looking down he confirmed, “This was your fire pit?”

  Not thinking, she brushed some soot away with her hands and i
nstantly regretted it. The soot would be stuck in her skin for days.

  “Don’t touch!” he snapped, crouching over the pit. “Are you nuts? This is evidence. Don’t touch anything. Just stay away from everything and don’t touch.”

  Jen backed away. What had she been thinking? Of course it was evidence. This was what she’d brought him all this way to inspect. She peered over his shoulder from a distance, happy to see her circle of rocks looked sound. If only she could tell if the fire had somehow escaped from the pit.

  She glanced around. How could Rob even tell anything in all this blackness? It would be similar to trying to trace the first explorer’s exact routes through North America a hundred years later.

  Jen turned to let Rob finish his investigating and looked for somewhere to relieve herself. Not a bush in sight.

  Feeling shy, she said, “Don’t turn around.”

  He pivoted on his heels. “Why?” He watched her as though she was trying to hide something.

  “I have to, um, go to the bathroom.” She could feel her cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

  His body relaxed. “Right.” His high-alert body language drifted back to being relaxed as he returned to his investigating.

  She walked down a slight incline—the best she could do for privacy. She looked at her black hands. She headed back to Rob, who was poking around with some sort of device, his hands still clean.

  “Can you open my pack for me?” She held up her dirty hands, feeling like an in-the-way child.

  He straightened and reached into his pants pocket. He produced a couple of square packets and she took a step back. He handed her two wet wipes, the kind they gave you when you ordered ribs or wings in a pub. For a brief moment, she thought they were the other kind of square packets men carried around in their pants pockets when they were out with a single woman.

  She took the wipes quickly, praying she wasn’t blushing, and swiped at the soot stuck in the lines of her knuckles.