Chapter 9
Three things I’ve always found irresistible in a man: a beckoning grin, thick arms that promise they could hold me, and the readiness to make a fool of himself for the greater good. Jack has all three—in spades.
I still have a grin on my face when I think of how yesterday Jack insulted that poor bear, instigating that it was a pussyfoot that didn’t even dare to face winter. Calling a bear names is nothing that should remotely feel attractive. But Jack did it for me! He jumped in its way, yelled, and waved his arms and legs like a crazy jumping jack—all for me. Even now, a day later, I feel like a fair maiden having been saved by her knight. I suppose my pepper spray would have chased the bear off, but it feels good not having needed to rely on it.
Who would have thought I’m such a princess?
I feel safe stepping out of my cabin after dusk, holding a hot chocolate. I’ve got my pepper spray in my pocket and my knight might jump out of the underbrush any time. Besides, Thomas told me that the bears around here try to keep out of humans’ way. So I tell myself that making loud breathing noises will alert any bears around and give them the chance to get lost.
I wrap my fingers around the hot mug and enjoy the crisp spring night. A slight breeze stirs the leaves and makes them rustle. There is a wonderful scent, earthy and yet flowery. Tomorrow, I will investigate what shrub grows nearby and gives off that odor.
Between my loud, bear-scaring breaths I hear music. I listen. The same bit sounds again. That doesn’t seem to come from a radio. I slowly follow the path towards the sound. On a clearing sits a cabin just like mine. Lights from inside illuminate the porch and silhouette a single person, playing the guitar. Or more likely, learning how to do so. They keep interrupting themselves repeatedly and go back a few bars just to start over again. I don’t know this song but fall in love with it even from the fragments I hear.
Silently, I step closer, keeping in the shadows. I don’t want to spook whoever that is. At one point the person turns to the side, takes a notepad, and scribbles something. That’s when I recognize him—it’s Jack.
I stand in the dark shadow of a pine and watch. It is heartbreaking and yet endearing to see Jack struggle through the verse reiteratively. He hasn’t played through it even once. His guitar is old and battered—it clearly has seen better days.
He straightens and puts both hands on the instrument’s body. When he lifts his head, he is looking right at me. I still. Maybe I’m covered by the thick branches, and he won’t be any wiser that I stalked him.
“Hunter?” he calls. So I am not as stealthy as I hoped.
I step into the circle the light casts on the grass. “Hey there. I like that song.”
“It’s not finished yet.”
“I know.”
Jack puts the guitar away and stands. His head and shoulders vanish in the darkness of the overhang.
I hate it that he can see me, but I can’t see him. So I get closer. “I was enjoying the night. It’s beautiful here, much more so than in the city.”
Jack stands still. Have I said something dumb? Apparently not, because he comes closer and takes his car keys from his pocket. “Come on, I’ll show you something nice.”
“Even nicer than this?” I doubtfully move my fingers around to encompass the dark trees, the lovely scent, the bears even.
“Way nicer.”
He takes me on a short ride to a vista point up Himannee Mountain. There we sit on the truck bed with the tailgate down. And he’s right—this is even nicer. The moon is almost full and bathes the pines in soft, silvery light. Those blue mountain ridges look stunning in the dark, too. Hidden from our view there are single houses or even towns and they illuminate their valleys.
For a very long time, we sit in silence, enjoying the dreamy view. And then I go and spoil it all. “I saw you earlier with the sheriff.”
Rather than saying something, Jack grunts noncommittally.
“What was that about?”
“Don’t be that intrusive.”
“I’m not. I’m concerned.”
“How would you feel if I asked about a time you had gotten yourself into trouble?”
“So you are in trouble.”
“Have you ever been?”
“It was in grade school. I superglued the locker of my nemesis shut.”
“What?” Jack blurts out laughing.
“She was always so mean, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I told my teacher about her, but only got that ‘sticks and stones’ speech. So I had to do something. I would have gotten away with it, but my bestie couldn’t stop laughing and finally had to fess up.”
“That means, she snitched on you?”
“She came clean.” I grinned.
“And?”
“An apology in front of the assembly, replacement for the locker, innumerable hours of community service, and being grounded for the summer. I was a cop’s daughter, after all.”
“Ouch.”
I shrug. “I deserved it, didn’t I?”
“Really glued it shut? You did.”
“So now that you know how bad I have been—”
“No. Some time later maybe, but not now.”
The cold was getting to me. It seeped through the fleece. I hadn’t layered much as I never intended to be out this long. Jack must sense my discomfort, because he wraps me in his arms, and pulls his leather jacket over me.
“Now you will be cold,” I say.
“Not with you around.”
I snuggle into the folds of the jacket and inhale the odor it emanates. Leather, sandalwood, and Jack. I close my eyes and bask in that scent. This is what heaven smells like. The jacket slides off my shoulder, and Jack puts it back. He leaves his arm on my shoulder to keep the jacket in place. I let my head fall back to rest on Jack’s arm.
Is it the romantic moonlight? Jack’s kind gesture to lend me his warmth? It surely cannot be that I’m into him, can it? There is a big, unknown feeling inside me that whirls in my tummy. I do the only thing that I think can alleviate it. I ask, “Will you kiss me?”
“Should I?”
“Yes, please.”
Jack touches his nose to mine and sighs. He gently cups my cheek in his warm, calloused hand. The smell of his sandalwood aftershave gets stronger. I slide my hand along his rib-cage. He groans and puts his lips on mine, as gentle as can be. I open my mouth and Jack lets his tongue explore me. His feather-light touches zing through my body and I yearn for more, so much more. I cling to his shoulders, pressing him to me.
The kiss is getting more and more passionate until a short wail of a police siren makes us jump apart.
Sheriff Carter pops his head out of his car. “Do I have to give you my award-winning talk about STDs and birth control? It’s not often I find someone my age.” Telling by his grin, he is thoroughly enjoying this.
“We’re good.” Jack grins back at him.
“Right. Come by the station if you want one of my leaflets.” With a wink, the sheriff waves and drives off.
Jack chuckles. “Shall we take it to my cabin?”
He is so carefree, while I am embarrassed having been caught in flagrante . I want his unbotheredness! I shake it all off—the shame, the need to prove myself to be a good girl, the fear to come across as too bold.
“I’ve got condoms and lubricant in mine.”