Chapter 81
Tilda
“Thank you.” I accept the metal coffee cup from Ethan.
He grunts and pours steaming water from the metal teapot into his own mug, dissolving the instant coffee.
Then he pours water into two bowls, each containing a few large spoonfuls of oatmeal, a scoop of sugar, and a dash of cinnamon.
Ethan holds out the bag of sugar to me with a clean spoon.
“Thank you.” I repeat myself out of habit.
He lifts a brow at me.
I set the plastic bag on my lap and use the spoon to scoop up a tiny amount.
“Next time I come out here, I’ll bring more supplies. Use as much as you want.”
I hesitate, then decide to take him on his word and lower the spoon again, filling it with sugar.
Ethan takes the bag when I’m done, and I stir my coffee as I watch his fingers squeeze the zipper bag shut.
“I’m impressed you have sugar.” I take a sip of the surprisingly good cup of coffee.
“Long shelf life.” Ethan uses his spoon to stir the first bowl of oatmeal, then the second. “And it’s a good source of calories for quick energy.”
He pours a little more water into each bowl and catches me trying not to smile.
Ethan narrows his eyes. “What?”
“We just have such different lives.” I mean it in a lighthearted way, but Ethan frowns.
“I’m not a… camper.” I lift my cup and gesture to the woods around us, explaining before he loses his marbles over nothing.
“And I like casual walks, not thrill-seeking hikes. So, I’ve never had a need for long shelf-life, quick-energy calories. ”
Ethan’s mouth flattens in that way he does when he’s trying to look annoyed. But I really think he’s trying not to smile.
I lift my cup to my lips. “You’re an impressive man, Ranger Grant.”
“Please go into the cabin.” I keep my eyes on Ethan’s, refusing to get distracted by the fact that he’s been walking around shirtless for the past hour.
Ethan sighs, but he sets the pair of washcloths and bar of soap on the stump beside me. “Fine. But try to keep your feet dry.”
I lift my hand to my forehead.
Ethan gives me a look. “Park rangers don’t salute.”
I keep my hand up. “That one guy saluted you.”
“What one guy?”
“The one… I can’t think of his name. He was in the parking lot when you helped me with Quackers’s pool.”
“Fisher?” Ethan rolls his eyes. “Fisher’s an idiot.”
“Roger that.” I finish the salute anyway, then drop my hand.
Ethan shakes his head as he turns around.
I wait for him to disappear into the cabin. And then I wait another moment until I hear the creaking sound of him dropping onto the bed, where I’ve spent most of the day.
Turning so my back is to the cabin, I strip off the shirt and sleep pants I’ve been wearing since last night and set them on another stump.
It’s almost dusk. So the light is dimming, and the air is cooling, reminding me I should hurry.
I use the hair tie I found in my backpack to secure my long braid, then I dunk the washcloth into the bucket of warm water and scrub the soap bar against the wet cloth until it suds.
Today was… good.
Like really good.
Especially considering we’re stranded here because of a plane crash.
After breakfast, Ethan made me sit with my feet up while he handwashed my clothes from yesterday, using the well water and powdered detergent. Then he washed his own clothes, minus his jeans.
As I rub the soapy cloth over my body, I look around at our clothing hanging from tree branches.
I re-lather the soap, then wash lower.
After the laundry, Ethan insisted I spend the afternoon reading in bed—with my feet up.
I picked a well-worn thriller and woke up two hours later to find Ethan outside. Chopping wood. With his shirt off.
I stood at the window for a long time, eating a protein bar and enjoying the show.
Then I lay back down, flustered. And by the time I got up again, I caught the top of Ethan’s butt cheeks as he pulled on his boxer briefs, having just done his own standing bath.
My nipples pebble at the memory.
I bend down and dunk the washcloth in the water again.
Like this morning, Ethan used the firepit to heat water in the teapot, and he added it to the bucket of cold water so it wouldn’t be frigid for me. But it’s getting cooler by the moment.
I squeeze out some of the excess water, so it won’t drip too much and get my socks wet.
The air out here… It’s the same as the air at my house.
Fresh. Clean. Crisp.
I switch hands and run the cloth over my other arm.
A month ago, I was surviving, one day at a time, living in a concrete box, walking down busy sidewalks, and breathing in exhaust.
And today…
Today I’m standing naked in the woods, with the sunset and a sexy mountain man as my company.
And I feel free.
I’m stranded. Stuck in the woods with someone I’m just starting to know. Waiting for another person I’ve never met to rescue us. And yet…
I’ve never felt more alive.
Never felt more connected to this planet we live on.
I dunk the washcloth again and work my way down my body.
Something creaks in the cabin, and I resist turning around.
If that was Ethan getting off the bed to watch… I don’t need to know.
The sun is setting, but it’s not so far gone that Ethan wouldn’t be able to see every inch of me from there.
A flush creeps up my stomach to my chest.
Ethan is probably the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life. His face. His energy. His endless muscles. And yet, I’ve never felt more confident around a man.
He’s seen me in my favorite dresses. In my pajamas. In basically nothing.
He’s seen me fall, lose my cool, cry...
He’s met my family.
And he still looks at me like he wants me. Like he likes what he sees.
Perfect fucking hips.
I’m eating this perfect fucking pussy for dinner tomorrow.
I hurry through another round of rinsing off.
Spending all day near each other, but not touching each other…
I drag the cloth down my chest, the fabric feeling rough over my sensitive skin.
I’m ready for the touching.
Bending, I soak the cloth for a final time.
But then I hear a new sound.
And it’s not coming from the cabin behind me.
Still bent over, I tip my head up.
My eyes stare into the forest. But I don’t see anything.
Letting go of the cloth, I stand slowly, scanning the tree line.
Nothing.
I reach for the dry washcloth. But just as my fingers brush the cotton, a chirp comes from the shadows.
I freeze.
I know that sound.
My breath catches in my lungs.
I take a step back.
And the mountain lion steps out from behind a tree.
Naked, terrified, shaking all over, I take another tiny step back.
I try to remember Ethan’s survival lessons.
“Stay back.” My command is a croak. But I keep facing forward. Keep eye contact with the animal. And I slowly lift my arms out to my sides.
Make yourself bigger.
Shout.
I swallow. “E-Ethan!”
“Right here.” Ethan’s shoulder brushes mine. There’s a metallic click. “Cover your ears.” Ethan holds the gun out in front of him.
“Don’t kill it.”
“Not unless I have to.”
I lift my hands and press them to my ears.
“Go on!” Ethan shouts it so loud I feel the vibration in my bones. “This is my land. You will not come closer.”
The cat doesn’t move.
Ethan shifts his stance and braces his left hand under the grip of the gun. “Leave.”
The cat lifts a paw.
Ethan fires.
Bark explodes out from a tree a few feet in front of the lion.
I shriek at the sheer volume of the gunshot.
“One more.” Ethan warns me, then he pulls the trigger again.
A different tree trunk, three feet on the other side of the mountain lion, blasts the cat with a rain of wood chips.
And this time, the mountain lion spins and disappears into the forest.
My hands are still pressed to my ears when Ethan turns toward me, dips down, presses his shoulder into my stomach, wraps his arm around my thighs, and stands.
The motion has me letting out a different noise of surprise as the warm palm on my bare thigh reminds me I’m completely naked.
I brace my hands against Ethan’s back as he does a quick turn, so he’s facing the spot where the cat disappeared.
“I got you.” He presses a kiss to my hip, his beard scratching in the most perfect way. “You’re good.”
Ethan backs toward the cabin.
He looks over his other shoulder, and I reach a hand out to guide us through the doorframe.
Ethan kicks the door shut, wraps his other arm around my waist, and tips me back, dropping me, once again, onto the mattress.