by Julia London
“Then what are we supposed to do?” Olivia demanded. “We’ll have to share the water you’ve collected. And I’m the bride, so I should get to go first.”
“I suggest we draw straws,” Eli said calmly. “It’s the only fair thing to do.”
“I’m not drawing straws,” Olivia huffed.
“Then perhaps we might compete for it,” Rhys said. “You know, like they do on Survivor.”
“Are you kidding?” Marnie asked. “How would we compete for it?”
Rhys looked at Eli. So did Marnie, her big maple-brown eyes blinking up at him and making him feel even worse for having been such a jerk to her last night. Olivia snorted, but Vince was smiling and nodding. “Great idea, Doughman. A contest. So think of something, Eli.”
Eli frowned. But then he looked at Olivia, pouting because she was not getting her way, and said, “Sure. A contest. How about this—you guys will work in teams of two. Each team will have thirty minutes to drag that altar out of the lake. The first one to get it out gets the first shot at the rainwater. The losers get sloppy seconds.”
“That is so lame!” Olivia exclaimed.
“Why?” Eli asked. “We’ve got to get it out of the lake.”
“Why do we have to get it out of the lake? Why can’t we just leave it there? It’s ruined and I don’t want it anymore.”
“Because,” Eli said calmly, even though he was quickly losing patience with the diva, “we are responsible adults, and responsible adults don’t leave trash to pollute the lakes the wildlife use. That’s why.”
“Get off your soapbox, will you?” Olivia snapped. “You act like a fucking game warden.”
Okay, the chick was really riding his last nerve. He bit his tongue to keep from saying what he really wanted to say, then said quietly, “You want the rainwater, Olivia? I am the only one who knows where the buckets are.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to wash my hair,” Marnie said, putting her hand to her enormous furball of hair. “But…but what if neither of us can get it out?” she asked. “And how will we choose teams?”
“That’s for you to decide,” Eli said, and stood up, gathering the remaining sandwiches and apples. “In the meantime, I’ll just put these somewhere safe.”
The other four eyed him and one another suspiciously.
“I’m not entering some fucking contest to take a bath,” Olivia haughtily informed them, and marched for the cabin door. “I’m going to get a nap,” she said curtly, and disappeared inside.
“Bitch,” Vince muttered.
That left Rhys and Marnie to eye each other, and judging by the looks on their faces, neither of them seemed too terribly happy with the prospect of hooking up for the contest.
“I think I should like another look at the lake,” Rhys said after a moment. “Perhaps it is not too terribly bad for washing.”
Marnie watched him walk down the steps and toward the lake, then glanced at Eli from the corner of her eye. She sighed wearily, put her hand to her hair again, then followed Rhys away from the cabin, heading to the tent, her hair bouncing in a tangled ball behind her.
Eli shrugged and went in search of one of Rhys’s coolers.
In the tent, Marnie sat cross-legged and tried to pull her hands through the mess of her hair. One thing was certain, if she had to partner with Rhys, she’d never get to wash her hair, because she knew he wouldn’t get in that water. She’d have to do it, because she had to wash her hair. It was the top item on her agenda. She couldn’t stand the feel of it another moment.
She couldn’t stand being around Eli and not being with him, either. All day she’d waffled—one moment she was furious with him for being such an ass, but then he’d look at her with that expression of amusement and affection and it would just seep into her and make her ache for him.
Marnie was miserable, and with a moan, she threw herself down on the sleeping bag that smelled like Eli, and that only reminded her that she was falling in love with a stupid cowboy with stupid hangups. Yes, yes, she was falling in love, it was so clear! Not a moment passed that she didn’t think of him, and she was watching his every move. She had all the maturity of a sixth-grader. But she couldn’t help it. He was handsome and strong and smelled so damn good, like a real man, like a sexy man, and she loved the way his body felt in hers and around hers, and she loved the fact that he was wounded and not a womanizer, and she loved how he managed to keep so calm when everyone else was panicking and how he knew just the right thing to do in every situation—
“Psst! Marnie!”
Marnie pushed herself up and turned her head to see Olivia poking her head through the tent. She smiled and climbed through, zipping the tent flap behind her.
Marnie was definitely not in the mood. “What are you doing?” she asked as Olivia crawled to sit next to Marnie’s head.
“I have to talk to you,” Olivia whispered, peering intently at the tent flap, as if she expected someone to come through it at any moment.
Marnie looked at the tent flap, then at Olivia. “Why are you whispering?”
“Sssh! I don’t want anyone to hear us.” She turned from the tent flap and scooched around so that she was facing Marnie. “Listen, Vince is an asshole. I am so thankful for this disaster, because if I had actually married him, I would have killed myself in a week.”
“Oh, Olivia,” Marnie said, and put a comforting hand on her knee. “You’re just feeling very stressed right now. You’re going to marry him.”
“I am not,” Olivia spat and slapped Marnie’s hand off her knee. “I’ve learned way too much about him, and believe me, it’s not good.”
This from a woman who was calling out for his sweet meat only last night, Marnie thought.
“So Marnie, we have to stick together.”
“Stick together?”
“If we’re not careful, Vince will take all the water and leave us to die. He is that fucking selfish. And God only knows how long we can eat peanut butter and jelly before we turn on each other.”
Marnie snorted. “Aren’t you being just a smidge over-dramatic, Olivia? We’re not going to be here much longer. No one is going to die. And if they can shoot peanut butter and jelly, then surely then can shoot something else over here. Lobsters, maybe.”
“Oh, excuse me,” Olivia said, rearing back to her heels. “Beg your pardon, Miss Survivor, but have you heard any helicopters up here?”
“No, but I—”
“And do you think those frozen lobsters will be any good after today? They’ve got a shelf life. They’ll be shooting rancid lobsters at us!”
“I was only kidding. I don’t think they will shoot the—”
“Listen, Rhys has some home-baked breads and imported Camembert cheese that he gave me—sssh!” She paused, her hand on Marnie’s arm, and raised her head like an animal, listening intently for a moment. When she was apparently convinced there was nothing outside, she lowered her head and said, “If you align yourself with me, I will share that bread and cheese with you.”
“That’s very nice, but why don’t you just share it with everyone?”
“Are you kidding? There’s not enough for everyone. Listen, all you have to do is help me get that altar out of the water, and I’ll give you a hunk the size of your head,” she said, looking curiously at Marnie’s hair. “I don’t want Vince to win, and I don’t think Rhys can. If we get it out, not only will we get the rainwater, but we will be eating real food instead of that stupid peanut butter crap. Jesus, you pay a million plus for a fucking wedding, and you think the least they might do is shoot something good at you!” she exclaimed with great frustration. “So what do you say?” she asked, leaning closer.
Marnie did like the idea of that rainwater. So much so that she said, “Okay. If I can go first with the rainwater. I really, really want to wash my hair.”
“Of course,” Olivia said brightly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. So come on out when you’re ready and we’ll announce our team.”
“But…what about Vince and Eli and Rhys?”
“What about them? They’re men. They can go a lot longer without washing than women,” she said blithely. “But I am not stepping back into civilization smelling like a cow.”
There was something in Olivia’s blue eyes that seemed a smidgen off sane, and Marine had a moment of doubt that she was doing the right thing. But Olivia was already moving. “Okay!” she said, crawling toward the front of the tent. “I’ll see you at the cabin.” And with that, she unzipped the tent flap and went out.
Forming an alliance with Olivia was fine, Marnie supposed, but Olivia had forgotten one thing—how in the hell did she think the two of them would get that altar out of four feet of water? Whatever—Marnie would give it a shot. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Her mind made up, she reached for the tent flap at the same time Eli opened it and came in.
Marnie reared back on her heels.
“Hey, coppertop,” he said.
“Hey,” she said, eyeing him coolly and reminding herself not to act like a fool.
“What’s up?”
“Resting.”
He nodded and scratched his beard, which was, she had to admit, too damn sexy. “So listen, Marnie…I ah…I owe you an apology.”
She blinked with surprise. All right, then. Stupid Cowboy had morphed back into Sexy Smart Cowboy. “Oh. Do you?” she asked, trying not to smile.
He smiled, though. “I do.”
Damn that smile of his. It reduced her to mush every time. Marnie couldn’t help but smile, too, and absently fingered the tail of his long-sleeved T-shirt she’d been wearing. “I sort of thought you’d see it my way.”
“I didn’t say that,” he said. “But…I said some things I wish I hadn’t said.”
“Such as?”
“Such as…” he sighed as he pushed his hand through his hair and laughed low. “I don’t think you talk too much.”
“Ooh,” she said, quite pleased with his admission. “Well, that’s really great of you to say. Frankly, I didn’t think you meant it because I really don’t talk that much. I mean, when I have something to say, I’ll say it, but I don’t go on and on just to hear myself talk like some people, not by—”
“Marnie,” he said, putting his hand on her knee and sending a little bolt of lightning into her groin.
“Oh,” she said, and laughed as she glanced at his big hand on her knee. She’d really like that big hand to be other places. “So…is that all?” she asked.
“Is that all?”
“I mean…isn’t there anything else you’d like to say?” she coyly suggested, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Like, maybe, you didn’t mean to be such a jerk, but it’s a painful topic for you, and you sort of reacted from a bad place?”
Eli gave her a lopsided smile. “I would never put those words together in a sentence, but yeah, I’m sorry I was a jerk. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Well, now you’re just making me happy,” Marnie said, and leaned forward, so that they were almost nose to nose. “You’re excused,” she murmured, and kissed his mouth.
“Hmm,” Eli said. “I think I like being excused.” He put his hand to her hair and gave her that look of affection that Marnie loved. “Excuse me some more, why don’t you?” he asked.
“I can’t,” she said, leaning back. “I have to fish an altar out of the lake so I can wash my hair.”
“With who?”
“With Olivia.”
“Olivia?” He laughed. “You should have gone with Rhys. Olivia doesn’t do any heavy lifting.”
“No, it was all her idea,” Marnie said, and started to move past Eli. “She’s definitely going to help. She doesn’t want Vince to win.”
“Wait,” Eli said, catching Marnie’s arm. “What do you mean, her idea?”
“Her idea to be partners because she is mad at Vince. I help her, and if we win, she shares her bread and cheese and I get to use the rainwater first.”
“How did she get bread and cheese?” Eli asked, shaking his head. “Listen, don’t align yourself with Olivia. She’s bad news.”
Okay, here they went. Sexy Cowboy had turned into Mr. So Not a Wedding Consultant. “Thank you, but I think I know my bride.” Rule number one for the successful wedding planner: Know your bride. Duh.
“I don’t think you do,” he said. “Olivia is the kind of girl who will cut you the first moment you aren’t useful to her.”
Okay, apology for being a jerk aside, Eli was treading dangerously close to being a jerk again. “That’s not very nice,” she said.
“I don’t mean to be a jerk, Marnie—”
“Seems to me you’ve got it down to a fine art.”
He frowned. “I just know her.”
“Really?” Marnie said, pushing past him. “I don’t think you know her at all…unless you crawled inside and looked, right?” she said, throwing his words back at him. She rolled out of the tent and went in search of Olivia, more determined now than ever to win.
She found Olivia sitting on the porch with Rhys and marched up the steps, stood in front of the megastar, and said, “Game on.”
“Yippee!” Olivia cried, and jumped up. “I can’t wait to tell the idiot,” she said, and skipped into the cabin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
On the edge of the water, Olivia and Marnie argued about how best to proceed and finally decided they needed Eli’s rope. He was more than happy to provide it—he stood with his weight on one hip, his arms crossed over his chest, watching them with the same interest with which he might watch a round of bull riding. Marnie pictured him doing just that, the smug bastard. But why did he always have to look so damn good, even when he was annoying the hell out of her?
Her lack of focus was probably why Olivia won the argument. “I’m too small,” she said, pushing Marnie toward the water. “Look how tiny I am and how big you are. You have to do it.”
It was hard to argue with that—Marnie did indeed tower over the diminutive star. So she waded into the lake, whimpering with each step as the ice-cold water seeped into her clothes and touched her skin. They had decided—well, Olivia had decided—that Marnie should wrap the rope around the altar. Then they’d both pull it upright, and together they’d move it to shore.
“You sure you want to do it that way?” Eli called from the bank once Marnie was already up to her knees in ice-cold water.
Hell, no, she wasn’t sure, but it was a little late now, wasn’t it? She gave him a withering look, then shifted her gaze to the altar. It was submerged only a foot or so from the edge of the lake. She leaned down and put her arms in the water, too. “Yikes, yikes, yikes,” she whimpered through chattering teeth. The water was so cold she could hardly feel the rope in her hands. It didn’t help that the legs of the damn Arc de Triomphe were bobbing around her and knocking into her.
“Don’t do it like that,” Olivia said from her dry and much warmer spot on the edge of the lake. Marnie bit her tongue to keep from telling Olivia to jump out here and do it herself, and kept struggling to get the rope under the altar.
“Marnie! You’re going to mess it up,” Olivia cried.
“Then how the hell should I do it?” she asked sharply.
“God, you don’t have to cop an attitude. I’m just trying to help.”
Marnie paused to glower at her and noticed that Rhys and Vince had wandered down to watch.
“It might go a lot faster if you’d just use your hands,” Eli said.
Great. More free advice. “Thanks for the tip, Popeye, but it’s too heavy,” Marnie shouted.
“It only weighs about fifty pounds,” Eli said.
Marnie glared down at the stupid altar that they had to have flown in especially for Princess. Behind her, the plastic arch bumped her in the butt, and Marnie leaned down, grabbed the edges, and gave it a yank. It came up with a little bit of force. Dammit! She glanced over her shoulder—Eli had lowered his head and was laughing. Laughi
ng.
“Fine,” she shouted. “At least I win.” She wrapped her arms around the stupid altar and dragged it out of the water.
When she reached the edge, Olivia gave out a “Woohoo!” and did a little victory dance around Vince. Marnie let the stupid thing fall over; Eli wrapped her in a quilt. “You need some dry clothes.”
“Really?” she snarled, and yanked the quilt tightly around her, ignoring Olivia’s victory dance and taunting of Vince, ignoring how Eli picked up the altar, hoisted it onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and walked away with it, leaving a trail of alpine lake water behind him as he went.
The rest of them followed Eli, Olivia shouting after him about the rainwater. “Thanks for all your help,” Marnie muttered, and marched in the opposite direction, toward the tent, squishing with each step.
It took some doing to get out of her wet jeans. She was so cold she could barely make her fingers work, but she did eventually manage to squeegee herself out of them. She pulled on a pair of sweats, a camisole, and a dirty sweatshirt, then searched forever for dry socks. She donned two pairs, as her boots were waterlogged. When she had finally dressed, she made her way out in her socks, carrying her waterlogged boots to dry in one hand and her toiletry bag in the other.
At the very least, she was finally going to be afforded the luxury of washing herself and her hair. The very thought made her smile brightly.
She found Eli at the fire ring where he’d built another roaring blaze from nothing but some twigs and a lighter. He smiled as she walked up, took her shoes from her without a word, and put them near the fire to dry.
“Thanks,” Marnie said. “When do I get to bathe?”
“I brought the rainwater up to the cabin. You should be good to go,” he said with a smile.
“Great. I’ll see you later when I’m squeaky clean,” she said, and walked on to the cabin.
When she stepped inside, Vince was lounging on the couch, eating another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Olivia was sitting on the bed, wrapped in one of the thick terry robes with a towel piled high on her head. Even so, it took a moment for Marnie to understand that Olivia had cheated—she’d reneged on her word and had gone first.
