Freefall (No)

by Jill Sorenson

  “You’ll be fine,” Ron said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  For once, Jay focused on paddling instead of her. But he spared her a quick nod to remind her of his promise. They’d been instructed not to enter the water to rescue another swimmer. It was dangerous, and not usually an effective lifesaving technique in these conditions. Despite the warning, he’d vowed to come in after her if she tumbled overboard.

  She felt comforted by the thought. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her paddle and hung on for dear life. The rapids hit in a dizzying rush, tossing the front of the boat up in the air and slamming it down again. Icy water surged over the edge, soaking her to the skin. She gritted her teeth against the cold shock.

  Although she paddled when called upon, her main concern was staying inside the boat. She noticed that most of the other passengers looked happy, rather than terrified. Only Jay appeared grim and determined.

  Like her, he was enduring this, not enjoying it.

  Then they were free from the rapids’ grip, and his tension disappeared so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. Everyone in the group was smiling and exuberant, Faith included. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t capsized.

  What a wild ride.

  After the slippery section passed, the sun sank lower in the horizon and a chill settled over the air. By the time they reached the takeout, where they would camp for the night, Faith was shivering.

  “Everyone lends a hand in pitching the tents,” Ron said as they exited the boat.

  “I pitch an excellent tent,” Caleb said with a grin, elbowing Faith. “You can sleep with me and Ted.”

  “Dream on,” she said, laughing.

  Ron tied off the raft and started tossing out supplies. “Girls’ tent goes over there,” he said, pointing toward the trees. “Guys over here.” He removed one more tent bag, which looked smaller than the others.

  “Whose is that?” Jay asked.

  “Mine,” Captain Ron said, walking away. “It’s a single.”

  Caleb smirked at Jay. “Disappointed?”

  Not bothering to respond, he picked up the tent and headed the opposite direction. Bunking with him wasn’t an option, so she joined the other women. Faith stood clear while Paula and Meg put up the tent. Inside, she changed into warmer clothes. The fleece jacket and water-resistant pants were her sister’s usual style, function over fashion, but she didn’t mind. It was almost dark. No one cared how she looked.

  Ron spoke to Hope on the radio while they were making camp. Faith couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but she gathered that Ranger Banning wouldn’t be joining them. Typical Hope. Always on duty.

  Faith needed to have a serious talk with her sister. Hope worked more and dated less every year. She wasn’t equipped for one-night stands, like Faith. The last jerk she’d slept with had reduced her to tears. Hope rarely let her guard down with men, so she was slow to recover from disappointments.

  Faith knew why Hope shied away from relationships. Ten years ago, her sister had made a mistake she couldn’t forgive herself for. Other than that one slipup, she was the perfect daughter, the responsible student, the valiant rescuer. “Great White Hope,” Faith called her when she was feeling peevish. Hope was saving the world with her park ranger job. Their flower-power parents were so proud.

  Faith was the black sheep of the Banning family. She liked big cities, throngs of people, expensive things. Where Hope had substance, Faith was all flash. She had no interest in saving anything, least of all money. She was an unrepentant pleasure seeker, coasting through life on a useless art history degree.

  She’d never be as good as Hope. The best she could do was look good.

  Despite their differences, Faith didn’t resent her sister. She adored her. It broke Faith’s heart to hear the loneliness in Hope’s voice. She wanted to help her sister come out of her shell. Hope needed to stop hiding in the woods and start living.

  After the radio call, Ron started a fire. Faith sat down on a log and stretched out her hands, trying to thaw by the flames. Jay took the space next to her. He’d donned his beanie, along with a long-sleeved T-shirt and vintage Levi’s jeans.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He put his arm around her. Not asking permission, but moving slowly enough that she could say no if she wanted to.

  She didn’t.

  His body felt warm and hard where it pressed against hers. He was like a side of beef, with no give. His hand cupped the curve of her waist as if it had been molded for that purpose. She was comforted and thrilled in equal measures.

  He kept his gaze on the fire, probably because looking into her eyes at this distance would be weird. But he was still attuned to her. When she exhaled a ragged breath, he smiled and squeezed her waist. She snuggled closer, enjoying the contact.

  Faith hadn’t been held by a man in over six months. Since her breakup with Tom, casual hookups had lost their appeal. She wasn’t as adventurous or carefree as she used to be, and that worried her. If she stayed abstinent much longer, she’d become a born-again virgin like Hope. Maybe it was time to knock the dust off her vagina.

  Jay was a perfect candidate for a fling. He didn’t match her mental picture of an avid outdoorsman, however. His jaw was shadowed by stubble, and his clothes were on the thrifty side, but he didn’t appear dirty or unkempt. He had good skin, straight teeth and nice hands. This was no hippie backpacker or scruffy wildlife hunter.

  His hair had felt thick and luxuriant, and it was expertly cut. He looked more like a lawyer than a lumberjack.

  “What do you do?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.

  “I’m in shipping.”

  “Shipping?”

  He nodded. “I work for a company in Las Vegas.”

  Las Vegas. Close enough for a friendly visit, but too far for anything serious. That suited Faith just fine.

  The others gathered around the fire a moment later. Jay eased his arm away as smoothly as he’d introduced it, giving her an apologetic glance. Maybe he didn’t want to invite comments about how cozy they were getting.

  Ron boiled water for freeze-dried meals and served them in the bag with plastic forks. The beef stew tasted awful to Faith, but Jay ate it like a starving man. She offered him her portion and shared a handful of trail mix with Paula, who was a vegetarian. Hot cocoa was the highlight of the evening.

  There were no roasted marshmallows or campfire sing-alongs. Faith felt certain that someone would request a round of “Kumbayah,” but no. Ron and the other women went to bed early. Caleb brandished a flask and a smile. He unscrewed the cap and held it out to Faith, who accepted with enthusiasm. After tossing back a shot, she coughed and grimaced. The men laughed at her girlish reaction.

  Jay also took a drink, swallowing easily. They passed around the flask until it was empty. By the time Ted rolled a joint, Faith was already buzzed.

  “This is good shit,” Caleb said, holding in the smoke.

  “Tastes local,” Ted agreed.

  Faith declined a toke. The liquor was strong enough, and she hardly knew these guys. Getting wasted out of her mind wasn’t a smart idea. Jay didn’t hit the joint, either, which seemed to surprise them.

  “You don’t want any?”

  He shook his head.

  Caleb and Ted continued to share the pot. Soon they were in la-la land by themselves, debating on the other side of the campfire about how ancient civilizations had been influenced by space aliens.

  Faith giggled at Caleb’s wild gestures and turned her attention back to Jay. He was studying her again. Although her face felt naked without makeup, she reminded herself that firelight was flattering.

  “Warmer now?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, with some regret. The combination of alcohol and masculine attention made her cheeks hot. If she wanted another excuse to cuddle with him, she’d have to move away from the fire.

  First things first.

  She met his eyes. “Do you
have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said, seeming amused. “What about you?”

  “No girlfriend,” she said coyly, twirling the end of her braid. “I tried that once in college but it didn’t work out.”

  His mouth went slack at the implication.

  “No boyfriend, either.”

  He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Why not?”

  “I haven’t felt like dating anyone since my last breakup.”

  “What happened?”

  “I guess we didn’t have anything in common. He was a total jock, and...”

  “You don’t like sports?”

  She hesitated, not wanting to admit it. She knew that men appreciated women who rooted for the home team, drank beer and ate hot dogs. But Faith hated hot dogs. Besides, her sister was the sporty type, and being so hadn’t improved her love life.

  Maybe Faith should have made a better effort with Tom. She’d rarely attended his events or watched games with him. He hadn’t taken an interest in her social activities, either. They’d never been able to compromise.

  “I like some sports,” she said.

  “Which ones?”

  She thought hard. “Dirty dancing.”

  He laughed at her answer.

  “Are you a sports fan?” she asked, hopeful.

  “Yes.”

  Her spirits sank. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Boxing.”

  Tom hadn’t been into boxing. He’d followed most of the popular sports, so he’d been glued to the television every night. “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “No football or baseball?”

  “I like soccer, but I don’t understand football, and baseball is boring to watch. Not physical enough.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she shivered in response to the word physical. He had a unique way of speaking, a brevity that appealed to her. Everything about him was spare and lean, from his taut body to his clipped sentences.

  Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, “I have to pee.”

  He rose to his feet, eager to assist. She took his proffered hand and stood up, swaying a little. Caleb and Ted were too busy arguing about the space-time continuum to notice their departure.

  Although Faith was afraid of bears, she could have squatted behind a bush without help. Jay stood guard at a nearby tree while she tinkled in the moonlight. She prayed that the leaves near her backside weren’t poison oak.

  When she was finished, she fastened her pants and returned to his side. She tripped on the last step by design, stumbling into his arms.

  Oh my.

  His biceps were very firm beneath her palms, and his chest felt like a warm, hard cocoon. She clung to him, not caring if her pratfall was convincing.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He placed a hand at the small of her back, holding her steady. The action also brought her lower body flush against his. They were much closer than polite distance allowed, and he was making no move to extract himself.

  She twined her arms around his neck, encouraged.

  Not only did he take the hint; he took control, turning her toward the tree and slanting his mouth over hers. She parted her lips on a gasp as her shoulders met the rough bark. Groaning, he dipped his tongue inside.

  He tasted smooth and hot, like campfire whiskey. She hadn’t kissed a man since Tom and it was nice to cleanse her palate.

  Jay did a thorough job, exploring her mouth with silky strokes. He wasn’t pushy or overeager. This was a man who could wait for the main event. His lips were deliciously firm. In her experience, sloppy kissers were sloppy lovers, and anyone who rushed first base didn’t deserve to get waved on to second.

  She moaned and sucked on his tongue, appreciative.

  He must have enjoyed that, because he made a sound in the back of his throat and slid his hands lower, cupping her bottom. Faith approved of the maneuver, and of the desire she felt swelling between them. She pressed her breasts against his chest. Her skin tingled with awareness and heat blossomed between her legs.

  As if reading her mind, he lifted her higher, fitting his erection into the notch of her thighs.

  Unh.

  That was good.

  Still kissing her, he rubbed his hard denim button fly against her cleft, stimulating a riot of sensations.

  She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and swooned, dizzy from arousal. He was going to make her come with her clothes on! She shouldn’t have gone so long without sex. This was embarrassing.

  It wasn’t his fault that she was teetering on the edge of orgasm, and if they had a private place to retreat to, her extreme horniness wouldn’t be a problem. But there was no way she’d let him screw her against a tree twenty feet from the campsite. Faith was adventurous, but she wasn’t that adventurous.

  She tore her mouth from his, panting.

  He didn’t remove his hands from her ass, but he stopped grinding against her, which helped her think. She braced her palms on his chest and gave him a light push. He released her at once, stepping back.

  Her brain wasn’t functioning on all cylinders yet. He was damned near irresistible, standing there in the moonlight, an erection straining the front of his jeans, his dark eyes locked on her mouth.

  “That was hot,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “I have to go to bed now.”

  “Okay.”

  He walked her to the girls’ tent, not seeming displeased or frustrated in the least. She liked that. Some guys thought every make-out led to sex, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. After a traumatic experience with an aggressive date, Faith had vowed never to let a man overpower her again.

  When they arrived at the entrance, she stood up on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his. She wanted to smooth her palm down his body to test his size, but she restrained herself. Teasing him would be cruel.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, sinking to her knees to unzip the tent.

  He murmured something under his breath that sounded oddly like a foreign language. Then he said good-night and disappeared into the dark.

  * * *

  HOPE AND SAM hiked until sunset.

  Her legs were shaky from overexertion, and she felt light-headed, but she soldiered on, determined to keep moving. Although she was accustomed to strenuous exercise, twelve hours of it tested her physical limits.

  When she stumbled and almost fell down a ravine, Sam suggested a break. She sat down on a flat rock, her thigh muscles quivering. While he disappeared into the trees to relieve himself, she radioed Dispatch, getting a detailed update. Then she checked in with Ron Laramie. To her relief, the rafting group was fine.

  Sam didn’t say anything when he got back. His body language was closed, his mouth set in a hard line.

  She took a sip of water to ease her parched throat before sharing the latest news. “The attendant at Kaweah hasn’t seen any suspicious characters, but one of the campers reported a stolen backpack, and a sheriff’s deputy found a strange set of clothes in the men’s room trash can.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Business attire, soaked in bleach. They cordoned off the bathroom in hopes that evidence can be collected.” Tomorrow, investigators would retrieve the illegal cargo, process the crash site and launch a park-wide manhunt.

  “You think he’s still in the area?”

  She shrugged. They hadn’t seen any sign of him. He might have reentered the wilderness to hide, but there was no way he could have caught up with Faith’s rafting group on foot. She breathed a little easier, knowing that.

  “What about his friends?”

  “They’ll be looking for the cargo. They might not know where it is, or even where the plane crashed.”

  “They’ll know if he tells them.”

  Hope wasn’t sure he would. There’d obviously been a conflict between the suspect and the pilot. It was possible that he wasn’t on good terms with the rest
of his crew. Someone had been trying to contact him on the plane’s radio. He must have fled the scene in haste, without relaying any information.

  “Let’s make camp under that tree, away from the trail,” he said, pointing to a more secure location.

  “If we push, we could reach Kaweah by midnight.”

  “You’re exhausted.”

  She couldn’t deny it. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be unconscious in another mile.”

  “Okay, He-Man,” she shot back. “Clearly you never get tired, so you can go on ahead without me if my company offends you so much. I’ll catch up tomorrow.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The stress and muscle strain had really done a number on her. All of the hurt she’d bottled up inside had risen to the surface.

  She was usually more upbeat.

  “I’m tired,” he said, walking away from the trail and removing the tent from his backpack. He didn’t bother to deny that he found her company offensive. She followed him, finding another rock to sit on. With a heavy sigh, she stared into the distance, determined to enjoy the play of light in the clouds as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  The next thing she knew, it was full dark, and he was shoving a tin cup into her hands. She must have dozed off.

  “Drink,” he said.

  It was chicken noodle soup from a freeze-dried packet. He molded his hands over hers as she took a tentative sip. The liquid was hot and tasty, reviving her senses. She drank half the cup before he moved away, trusting her to finish it herself.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He grunted a dismissal and made another cup of soup. While she was sleeping, he’d set up the tent under a tree and built a small fire.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  She drained her cup, suddenly ravenous.

  “You should drink some water, too.”

  Hope did as she was told, because dehydration was no joke, and she was showing signs of serious fatigue. When she’d stopped moving, her body had shut down. Her core temperature had also dropped considerably. She was cold.

  They shared several packets of soup, a powdered drink that tasted like hot Tang and a bag of roasted almonds.

  Once her hunger was satisfied, she became very sleepy again. She yawned behind her hand, catching his watchful gaze from across the campfire. He looked ready to point to the tent and order her to go to bed, like a dog.