Chapter 5 #2
Clearly this tent has been set up here for longer than a night.
Probably longer than the two or so weeks you’re allowed to continuously camp in one place in this area.
For a moment I consider waiting for the camper to show up so I can yell at them and make sure they move on, but while I’m pissed that they’re lighting fires and endangering the woodland, because it’s my job, the pit is cold and empty.
It could be hours before they return, and I doubt whoever is staying here will have packed up and left in the time it takes me to walk further along the trail.
Today is my day off, and I don’t want to spend it waiting for some idiot camper.
I’d rather be talking to Verity, but as I can’t do that either, I head back onto the path and start walking, losing myself in the serenity of the woods.
I don’t realize how much time has passed until I check my watch and see that Verity will be finishing her volunteer shift in an hour.
Turning around, I start to walk back toward the parking lot, quickening my pace when I realize how long I’ve been walking for.
It’s been more than an hour since I found the tent.
I won’t make it back to the parking lot before she’s done for the day, and unless she decides to hang around, another day will have passed, and I’ll still have no idea where she lives or what she does during the afternoon.
“Fuck,” I growl to myself, annoyed at my decision to take this trail instead of doing the same hike from yesterday.
I decide to try to power walk back, hoping to speed up enough to see her, but the way back is all uphill and I have to slow down when my chest starts to heave, and my calves burn with exertion.
By the time I make it back to where the tent I found earlier is hidden in the woods, I’m angry, tired, and wishing I’d just thrown Verity over my shoulder and refused to put her down until she agreed to go on a date with me.
Gritting my teeth to silence my own self-recriminations, I turn to glance at the tent when movement and an unfamiliar sound come from that direction, stopping me in my tracks. Freezing, I hold my breath and listen, trying to decipher if the noise is coming from the tent or something else.
That’s when I see it. The canvas is rustling.
Someone is inside, but instead of calling out, I find myself waiting, unsure what I’ll do when whoever is in there finally emerges.
More rustling continues, and I narrow my eyes, trying to decipher if it’s a man or a woman.
The shade of the trees overhead shelters the canvas, so although I know there’s someone in there, I can’t use their shadow to see their size.
For a moment I consider shouting or unzipping the door like I did earlier, but for some reason my gut tells me not to. Some instinctual feeling inside of me is warning me to wait and not do anything to scare whoever is living out here.
Awareness prickles through my veins, and I find myself bracing, only I don’t know what for.
I’m not scared. The tent is small, barely big enough for one person to fit comfortably inside, but even if there are two, I’m strong and fit.
I can handle anyone that comes at me—unless it’s an axe-wielding psychopath.
So I don’t know why my stomach is in knots as I wait for whoever is inside to emerge.
My chest hitches when the zipper starts to move. My stomach clenches tightly when it lowers. And my mouth drops open when a newly recognizable head appears in the gap.
“Verity?” I gasp, unable to keep her name off my lips.
Her eyes go comically wide when she sees me. “Warrick?” she croaks.
“What the hell? Are you living out here?” I question, cursing myself again for not keeping the fucking words inside of my mouth.
“What. Here?” she rasps, cautiously crawling out of the tent and pushing to her feet. Unlike the two other times I’ve seen her, she’s not wearing the oversized shorts and shirt. Nor the cap that she pulls so low you can barely see her face.
For the first time, I get to really see her. Her hair is still pulled into the long braid, but without the cap, I can see the hint of a curl at her scalp and the rich chestnut color that seems to shimmer in the sunlight.
Her body is clad in a modest but achingly sexy sundress that hangs off her barely there curves and small but perfect fucking tits, which I want to feel in my hands while I taste them. Her legs are bare and a warm tan color, a shade darker than her shoulders that have been protected by her clothes.
“Verity,” I growl when she doesn’t speak again, trying to discreetly close the tent without me noticing.
“No, I don’t live here,” she lies.
“Bullshit. How long have you been living out here for?” I question.
“I’m not,” she lies again.
“I don’t like to be lied to,” I growl, forcing my feet to stay still, fighting the need to move closer, to touch her and make her tell me the truth.
“I’m not lying,” she protests, straightening her spine and pushing her tits out in defiance.
“So if I open that tent, I won’t find your shit in there?”
“No.”
“Bullshit,” I snarl again, closing the distance between us in two strides.
The fear on her face is so visceral that it stops me in my tracks.
“I-I-I-” she stammers.
“How long have you been living out here?” I ask, softening my voice so I don’t scare her any more than I already have.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Verity,” I say, keeping my voice low but injecting just enough authority into my tone that she knows I’m serious.
“I…”
Arching a brow, I dare her to lie again.
Her shoulders slump, and the fight from only a moment ago drains from her. “Not long.”
“How long is not long?”
“A few days—”
Clearing my throat, I cross my arms across my chest.
Her lashes drop, hiding her expressive eyes from me. “Two months.”
“You’ve been living out here in the middle of the woods in a tent for two fucking months?” I hiss, both appalled and reluctantly impressed.
“I guess,” she whispers.
In this moment she looks and sounds so young and innocent and so fucking broken that I take a step closer and hook my finger under her chin, lifting her face up so I can see her. “It’s okay, amore mio, it’s all going to be okay.”
“I’m fine,” she says, snapping her face out of my touch.
“No, you’re not. Do you know the rules about dispersed camping in this area?”
She sucks in an audible breath, then shakes her head.
“Wild camping is allowed here, but only for a maximum of fourteen days. And campfires are strictly prohibited, because these woods are at high risk for wildfires. A wayward flame could destroy acres of ancient woodlands. You’re breaking at least a handful of laws by being out here.
Never mind how fucking dangerous it is. There are wild animals.
We have bears and mountain lions, wolves and bobcats—you’re a sitting dinner treat in that tiny fucking tent. ”
“I’ve only lit a fire a handful of times, and I was careful. And I’m fine, I can take care of myself. But now that I know the rules, I’ll pack up and move on. It was time anyway,” she says quietly, her lashes dropping and hiding her eyes from me again.
“No,” I bark, my entire being protesting the idea of her leaving.
Startled, her head snaps up, and I exhale when her eyes meet mine again.
“Where would you go?” I question, a crazy idea popping into my mind.
Her shrug makes me itch to grab her and promise her that everything is going to be okay.
“I have a spare room,” I blurt.
“What?” she questions slowly.
“I have a spare room. Two, actually. And I’m barely at home. You could have the place to yourself.”
“I don’t have a job.”
“I could help you find one.”
“Why?” she questions, clearly suspicious of my motives.
“Because you need the help.” It’s a truth, but it’s not the truth.
“What would you get out of it?”
“I’d know that you were safe,” I tell her honestly.
“You don’t know me.”
“But I want to,” I admit. I know in an instant that I’ve said the wrong thing.
Her body language shuts down, and she stiffens. “No, thank you,” she says coldly, turning and starting to pull up the pegs holding the ropes on her tent into the ground.
“Verity.”
“I’m not going to pay for a room with my body,” she spits.
Taken aback, I blink. “Holy fuck, where the fuck did that come from? I might have asked you out earlier, but I’m only offering you a place to stay, not some kind of fucked-up deal. But I won’t lie and say I don’t want to have a chance to get to know you.”
Her eyes narrow, and she stares at me for a while. “Oh.”
“How about this? Let me take you out for dinner. I can guarantee that we’ll see a dozen people I know, and you can ask all of them if I’m an asshole who will try to take advantage of you or if it’s safe for you to stay at my place.”
“If they’re your friends, they’re not going to say you’re dangerous, are they?” she scoffs.
“We can make a stop at the sheriff’s office. My buddy is married to the deputy’s sister, he’ll vouch for me. You can also make sure he knows who you are and where you’ll be staying. If anything happens to you, he’ll know that I’ve done something and come and arrest me.”
Pursing her lips, I watch her thinking, her thoughts projecting so loudly I can practically hear them. She’s going to say no. I wish that I were willing to accept that, but honestly, I’m not. Leaving her out here isn’t an option, and neither is watching her pack up and walk away from me.
“You need this. You being out here isn’t okay, so I’m taking you home. You can stay at my place, eat my food, watch my TV, and be safe,” I growl, stepping past her to the other side of her tent and starting to pull the stakes from the ground without bothering to gauge her reaction to my words.
In less than two minutes, I have her tent partially deconstructed and her meager belongings sitting in a pile on the grass, while I slip the poles out and fold the canvas into a small pile.