Chapter 16 #3
‘Guilty,’ said Reba cheerfully. ‘Baileys, or as I pitched it to an ad agency in Brooklyn, the nectar of the gods.’
‘Did you land the campaign?’ asked Celeste, curiously.
‘Nah, but I did get hired as a taste tester for a local distiller. Life’s pretty grand, huh?’
Everyone huddled around the fire, listening to its rhythmic crackle and oohing as the occasional spark flickered up towards the moonlit sky. Overhead, the stars clustered, bright and merry, playing hide-and-seek with cotton-wool clouds.
Reba was right: life was pretty grand.
And Zoey apparently wasn’t the only one thinking it.
‘We’re not heading back to Portland at this time of night,’ said Kenard decisively. He took a swig of the Baileys Reba had just returned with to underscore his point. ‘We can camp out. Like the veggies do.’
A general murmur of assent went around: everyone seemed into the idea of camping. Which was of course one of the great collective hobbies of PNW residents.
‘What about the rabid coyotes?’ asked Ainsley. ‘The ones we were building the fences for?’
‘Strength in numbers,’ said Reba, with a flap of her hand. ‘Besides, they have more reason to be scared of us than vice versa. Look at the fashion sense of this group.’
Zoey and Gracie exchanged an amused look.
‘Well, then,’ said Nick. ‘Let’s get those tents put up.’
‘I do like an enterprising gentleman,’ said Reba, who had apparently been born absent a sense of shame, something which had clearly proven an asset throughout her colourful life. ‘Even if he’s going to make me sleep on the ground. I’ve got an old back, you know.’
‘Absolutely don’t let her inside,’ whispered Gracie. ‘She’s like a tie-dyed raccoon. You’ll never get her out, and she’ll eat all your snacks.’
Zoey, who had missed out on s’more seconds thanks to Reba’s affinity for skyscraper marshmallow stacks, had figured this was probably the case. Tents it was, she thought, as she helped Nick pull out the fabric and poles from their bags and start setting them up. Well, helped was an overstatement.
‘Shit!’ Zoey had missed pinning her foot with a tent stake by a fraction of an inch. Maybe a comfy bed indoors was the way to go.
‘Buffy Summers you are not.’ Nick took her mallet from her. ‘You missed by a mile.’
‘I’ll aim better next time,’ promised Zoey. ‘Drive it right through.’
‘Are you all right, though?’ Nick knelt to check that she hadn’t actually nailed herself to the ground. As he looked up at her with those dark eyes, Zoey wanted to throw her arms around his neck and beg to be carried off into the sunset.
Well, minus the whole rabid-coyotes part.
‘I’m doing fine. Just one more to go.’ Zoey pointed at the last mound of fabric on the ground.
She was torn: should she leverage her newly minted girlfriend status and ask to sleep inside on a soft bed somewhere devoid of mosquitoes?
Or would that come with baggage and responsibilities she wasn’t sure she was willing to sign on for just yet?
‘Just so long as you promise not to stake it in a boggy field.’
‘Very funny,’ said Zoey. ‘And I’ll have you know, historically, a lot of good has come of ignoring men. Like women’s suffrage. And Nora Ephron movies.’
‘You’re absolutely right. But in this one particular case, which you know from personal, expensive experience, it’s good to listen to the owner of a property when he says Please don’t drive through the boggy field.’
Ugh, a handsome man who was right. Was there anything worse in the world?
‘No boggy fields,’ she promised, as she helped set up the last tent.
‘One moment while I get your room ready …’ Nick unzipped the tent door and tossed a few giant bags inside, then, climbing inside, zipped the door again.
‘I hate a late check-in,’ she called, although she was trying not to smile.
‘Did Nate die and make you the local hater of note?’ he called back, his voice muffled by the tent.
‘I’m the OG hater,’ said Zoey. ‘Although I prefer the term killjoy.’
‘I can see why that might appeal to a literary type like you.’ Nick unzipped the tent door, poking out his head to reveal a space that actually looked pretty cosy.
Apparently the duffel bags had contained blankets and pillows.
As well as glow-in-the-dark sticker stars, just like the ones from the slam-poetry night.
Zoey broke into a grin as she touched the softly glowing plastic. ‘You remembered.’
‘We’re sleeping under the stars twice over tonight,’ said Nick. ‘Plus, there’s an air mattress. It’s only a bit squeaky when you move around on it.’
He demonstrated, and Zoey raised an eyebrow.
‘Beds do exist, you know.’
‘But the house is all the way back there, through the marshy fields and the swishy grass and the squelchy mushrooms.’
‘What is this? A little-known verse from We’re Going on a Bear Hunt?’
‘Could be,’ said Nick. ‘Especially given the state we left the fence in. Who knows what’s out there: bears, coyotes, mountain lions, MLM salespeople, neighbours who want to know if you’ve heard the good word.’
‘Ugh, when you put it like that.’ Zoey shuddered. ‘I’m glad we’re safe here in this very thin tent.’
‘We do have Alice.’
Alice’s ears pricked, and Zoey leaned over her to stroke her soft head.
‘She really is the best girl,’ she said, as Alice snuffled at her hand.
When Zoey straightened, Nick was staring at her in a way that made the rest of the world slip away.
‘May I?’ he said, touching his fingers to the collar of her shirt. ‘Alice, close your eyes.’
Zoey nodded, and he deftly worked the buttons until her belly was bare. Tiny hairs rose in the light chill of the evening – and from the ache that started up inside her as he traced her skin with his rough fingertips.
‘You’re so beautiful in the moonlight,’ he whispered, dragging his palm gently up her stomach and all the way up to her throat, where he traced the line of her jaw.
And so was he. Fuck, so was he. Zoey was rarely lost for words – she lived for a sharp quip or a cutting comeback – but not a single retort came to mind.
Instead, all she wanted was to drink in the soft glow of the string lights on his tanned skin.
The way its shadows dragged across the sharpness of his cheekbones and his aquiline nose before they gave way to the softer shape of his dark beard.
The way his ubiquitous plaid shirt stretched across the span of him, tracing the lean muscle built between the farm and the gym.
And from helping Zoey and her friends with their impromptu hauling requests.
She couldn’t help herself. She tore his shirt open, dragging it off him and throwing it behind her.
‘Wow, hold up. That one’s my favourite.’
‘Mine too,’ said Zoey. ‘I just wanted to see whether I liked it better on you or off you.’
‘Verdict?’
‘Inconclusive. Let me try your jeans for good measure.’
She pushed him down, dragging at the work-worn fabric. The air mattress squeaked and groaned, and the two of them tried not to laugh as it aired its grievances.
‘What if it goes flat?’ whispered Zoey.
‘It’s never had that problem before.’ There was mischief in Nick’s eyes.
Zoey reached down, taking him in her hand. ‘I can see that.’
Nick groaned as her fingers moved deftly against him, then again as she shimmied out of her own jeans. All that separated them was the thin fabric of her underwear – and even that was only for a single, tortured moment.
‘Zoey,’ he murmured as she pulled his hand down towards the lace-lined fabric, inviting him to push it aside, to find his way into her. He did so gently, surely, his fingers finding the opening of her, running her slick length, dipping inside until she swore.
‘In my wallet …’ he began.
Shaking her head, Zoey reached over to her purse for the condoms she kept in the side pocket.
‘Oh, mine weren’t good enough for you?’ he teased, and she whacked him lightly.
‘I’ve taken advantage enough of your generous nature,’ she teased right back. ‘And also … can you really trust wallet condoms?’
Nick held up his hands in surrender. ‘No further argument, your honour.’
She rolled the condom onto him, gently, teasingly, biting her lip as he quivered beneath her.
‘Here. I want to be able to see you. Hold you.’ Nick angled up and onto his side, pushing her lightly so that she too was on her side.
His fingers curved around the softness of her thigh, which he gently lifted up and forward so that it rested over his.
She gasped as he entered her – slowly, then wholly, as she accepted the length of him.
Nick’s eyes widened as their bodies connected, then fluttered closed as he embraced the sheer exhilaration of the moment. Zoey’s own eyes closed as well – the feeling of him was simply all she could manage without her senses becoming completely, utterly overwhelmed.
They moved together, Nick’s hips rocking against hers in a rhythm that made Zoey’s nerves sing, and she gasped, clutching her hands to his shoulders as her body implored him for more.
Taking her cue, he rolled her onto her back, pausing to drink her in. And yet, lying there, exposed beneath him, Zoey didn’t feel shy: she felt protected beneath the weight of him, seen and appreciated.