Chloe #2
We worked in silence, and my mind began to slow. Removing all the noises and stressors made me feel more in tune with my body.
Which had probably been his whole plan.
Get me out here and go all mountain man until I was horny and feral.
Well, two could play at this game.
“I’ll grab some firewood,” I said, enjoying the heat of his gaze every time I bent over to pick up sticks.
He’d said to dress casually, so I’d worn bike shorts, knowing it would torture him.
With a small load of firewood in my arms, I turned, finding him watching me with his lip caught between his teeth and his brows pulled low, radiating nervousness. Shit, I wanted to pounce on him, feel his strong hands on my body, and let him have his way with me.
We were virgins when we got together. Sweet and tentative. He’d made me feel so safe and loved my first time. I’d always cherished that memory, even if everything else had gone to shit.
Our wild night together a few weeks back had been far from tentative. He had been ferocious and demanding as he worshiped every inch of me.
The memory made me shiver. I needed to remember to keep my legs closed. I was a mom now, and Gus was a handsome, unreliable complication.
Though it was stupid, I was sure, I did enjoy that he didn’t hide his desire for me. At my birthday party, as well as the next morning, then on the boat, and even here, gathering kindling, he made no effort to hide his attraction.
It felt a bit wicked and gave me a dangerous ego rush.
For so long, I’d played the dating dance. Dealt with the constant worry that came along with wondering whether someone was attracted to me, the feelings of inadequacy. Covering my body and feeling undesirable as I aged.
Not now. Gus made no secret of his desire. And under his intense gaze, I didn’t feel self-conscious. I felt empowered and sexy.
After the tent and sleeping bags were set up, he opened up the storage shed and produced a small propane grill and two folding chairs. There were emergency blankets, water, and a first-aid kit in there as well. Smart.
“Let me get a snack put together, and then we’ll hike up to my special spot.”
Oh, thank God. I was already starving. Pregnancy hunger was no joke. When my blood sugar got low, I turned into a cavewoman. We’d only hiked for thirty minutes, and I was hungry enough to consider the best way to trap squirrels so I could roast one over the campfire.
Gus grilled hotdogs—refusing to let me help, of course—while I sat back, taking in the scenery. I hadn’t felt this at peace in a long, long time.
When we were finished, he insisted I remain sitting while he cleaned up, hung our trash from a tree to keep bears away, and then loaded a small pack with water and protein bars for us.
When he was finished, he led me away from camp, setting a leisurely pace through the forest. Here and there, we passed small markers on trees, but they weren’t arranged to be followed.
After he’d consulted a compass four or five times, I started to get concerned that we might get lost, but I kept my mouth shut.
He was still walking tall, his face a mask of confidence, so I forced myself to trust him.
As we walked, I relished the cool, damp air filling my lungs. Being out in the forest heightened all my senses.
For example, I couldn’t help but notice the absolute glory that was his ass in those Carhart pants as he climbed the rocky hill. It was round and thick and, dare I say, biteable?
The most infuriating part was that he’d been a perfect gentleman since we arrived. Other than a hand to help me over fallen trees or out of my chair, he hadn’t even touched me. It was as if he knew that experiencing him in the woods, in his natural habitat, was so sexy he didn’t even need to flirt.
I stumbled over a rock but quickly caught myself.
“Eyes on the trail, Dragonfly,” he called over his shoulder. “You can stare at my ass back in town.”
With a roll of my eyes, I huffed. We were ascending now, the terrain steeper and the vegetation changing, signaling that we were at a higher elevation.
I focused on the trail, letting my body experience the journey. The scents of pine needles and moss were strong and soothing. My limbs felt strong and capable, and my brain felt energized.
I’d traveled all over the world and investigated every type of forest. I was no stranger to nature. It was my job, after all—though the trees were technically JJ’s territory—but this forest was so much more. Livelier, richer, greener. Was it because it was Maine? My home?
Or because these were my trees?
Yes. It definitely wasn’t because of the very capable lumberjack who was confidently leading me through the woods.
“Up here,” he said, pulling himself up onto a rock ledge. Once he was up, he lay on his stomach and reached out to me.
As he helped me settle beside him, I took in the view and gasped.
Holy shit.
We were on a rocky plateau. The forest stretched out behind us, but directly ahead was a valley.
Vast and wide, with a small stream flowing down the middle.
And filled with wildflowers.
A riot of colors and sizes, the flora blanketed the valley, reaching all the way to the lake where we’d landed earlier.
Along the periphery of the valley, small trees grew, but the vast majority was filled with colorful flowers and scrub. White, yellow, and orange, with dots of purple as well, growing in all directions, some short and some tall. It was strange and wild and beautiful.
“Here.” He handed me a monocular.
I held it up to one eye, focusing it and enjoying the view. “What is this place?”
“There was a devastating wildfire here in the seventies.”
“Ecological succession,” I said, putting the pieces together.
“Yup. The land, plants, and wildlife grew and evolved after the devastation of the fire.”
“And created something different.”
“And beautiful.”
He stepped close and draped an arm over my shoulders as we gazed out at the valley below.
It hit me, in that silent moment, the impact so powerful it took my breath away.
Deadly, destructive fire had laid waste to this place. But it grew back stronger, yet forever changed.
“There are no roads. This is totally inaccessible. A secret paradise borne out of a tragedy.”
I looked up at Gus, letting a small smile slip free. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He nodded. “It’s your land. Well, part of it I’m not sure where the boundary is, but most of what you see here is yours.”
We sat on our ledge, sipped water from the same bottle, and continued to take in the beauty in front of us.
“I know you don’t trust me yet,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I will do everything I can to earn it. But I’ve been thinking a lot about the things I’ve done wrong in my life.
“This baby is a blessing. It’s the beautiful field of wildfires blooming in the wake of the mess we made as kids.”
My heart lurched. He was right.
I nodded as tears stung my eyes.
“I know how lucky I am,” he said. “And I’m not going to take any of it for granted. Just let me prove it to you.”