Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“You really can’t wait ten minutes?”
“Jack, I’ve already waited ten minutes. I’ve waited five ten minutes. If I don’t get to use the restroom soon, we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems.”
“You could just pee behind a bush, you know.”
“I’m not ready for that stage of this relationship. Now, can I go?” I gesture toward the rest area on the hill beside us at Cottonwood Campground, the restroom sign the current equivalent of angels singing in my ears. I stopped gulping water an hour ago. How am I so desperate to pee right now?
He glances down at his phone, then turns a scowl to the building. “Okay, but stay in there. Lock the door behind you.”
“Yes, sir. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”
“Wait!” He rushes forward, and I’m dancing on my toes as he hands me the knife I took from his bag earlier. “I’d wait for you, but my guy at the dig only has a signal for another few minutes, and I need to check in with him.”
“Wonderful, see you in a few minutes. I’ll find you,” I say quickly.
He growls, making me smile as I walk backwards toward the restroom. “Kidding! I’ll wait inside the boring restroom till I hear your secret knock.” His pursed lips are the last thing I see before I push Marigold against the door, sliding in. Turns out there is no lock on this door.
“We won’t tell Jack about this.” I nod before dropping Marigold to the floor.
The smell in the restroom isn’t as bad as I expected, with mostly a wet earth odor wafting about. I shove Marigold against the door as a means of protection. At least that way I’ll hear her skidding across the floor if someone else enters.
I hum the Psych theme song, peeling my sweaty shirt away from my body and fanning myself with the fabric a few times as I’m doing my business.
There’s no way I can keep testing the limits of my bladder like this.
And even though I’d planned to avoid peeing behind a bush, I don’t think the canyon will mind if it comes to that, seeing as we’re doing our best to honor its history and protect a stupidly priced artifact.
Rather, it’s me who has to get over the indignity of peeing out in the open.
With no running water and no way to wash my hands, I pull out my trusty travel hand sanitizer.
You know those moments of instant regret, like when you cut your own bangs or you drop your phone? This decision goes right to the top of that list.
My hands are covered with a multitude of scratches and grazes—a right of passage in these craggly mountain halls—and the stinging that ensues is excruciating. I kick Marigold out of the way, maneuvering the door open with my elbows while breathing through the fire engulfing my hands.
My promise to stay put is the furthest thing from my mind as I rush to the water fill station, panting like a woman in labor.
Sue’s husband, whose name has eluded me at the moment, walks toward the station with his empty bottle, but I need to rinse the alcohol off my skin immediately, so I run with hands in the air as if they are in fact covered by that contagious rash.
My feet pick up speed, but so do Hawaiian-shirt hubby’s, and I suddenly find myself in a silent race to beat him to the water tap.
I make it there a mere second before him, and I try to ignore the fact that he actually sped up when he saw me rushing toward the water source.
Hello, is the panic not very clear on my face?
Nobody warned me about this part of roughing it.
I hiss at the pain and drop to my knees in front of the tap.
People are staring, but I ignore them and finally find relief once I rinse away all the stupid hand sanitizer.
And I don’t even care that I look like a rabies victim.
I let out a short chuckle, grateful that despite doing something so thoughtless, I’ve learned a small lesson. I’ll never make that mistake again.
I exhale and rise to my feet, stepping aside to allow a slightly disgruntled-looking Frank to use the faucet. Someone’s a little bitter, I think and shake my hands out, inspecting the multiple inflamed red cuts and scrapes as I head back to the restroom.
“No bodyguard this time?”
I yelp when I look up to find Brandon leaning against one side of the building.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
A frown cuts across my face, and I pivot to make my way back toward the more crowded area. But Brandon circles me, cutting me off.
“I thought it’d be impossible to get you alone with the way he hovers around. Looks like I’ve hit some good luck.” Brandon moves closer with every step I take in retreat until I’m pushed up against the dusty restroom wall. He towers over me as my pulse throbs heavily.
“Nothing to say?” He sneers with a cruel twist of his lips.
Why does this keep happening? Can’t a girl hike in peace? Isn’t it enough to get bullied by the elements without being harassed by overly confident men?
I’ve had D-bag dates get a little too handsy before, but I’m so out of my comfort zone that every sassy response I’d normally use to put a man like this in his place has been wrung from my body along with the sweat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself everything is okay.
My hands sting as they splay against the dry, splinter-etched wood behind me.
Groin, eyes, throat.
My head throbs as I swallow, preparing to enact the first step in the self-defense moves that have been drilled into me since a young age. Brandon snickers, raising a hand to grip my chin in a pinching hold. My eyes bug wide with a mixture of panic and revulsion at his touch.
“This could have been a lot easier, you know,” he says through clenched teeth, pushing me harder against the wall.
My brain is still busy calculating the space required to knee him in the balls when he’s ripped away from me, leaving me to flinch. Before I can even cry out in shock, Jack has Brandon shoved up against the wall, and I dart away, breathing heavily and hating the way I felt so out of control.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack yells in Brandon’s face, pulling him up by his overpriced, purposefully distressed collar. A cold laugh crinkles the corners of Brandon’s mouth as his eyes flick toward me.
“Just getting to know each other.”
Jack is a tower of controlled fury, every muscle tight as he shoves Brandon into the wall again before releasing him.
His nostrils flare as he looks down at Brandon, watching him attempt to straighten his stretched-out collar and morph back into his sleazy facade.
Then Brandon’s top-of-the-line hiking boots crunch down the hill as Jack warns him to stay away from me.
“You okay?” Jack grates out when he gets near, allowing me to melt into his arms.
“I am now.” I breathe him in, nuzzling into his chest as he brings his arms around me.
“I don’t know what happened…I just froze.
” I lift my head, frowning as I meet his pinched gaze.
“Something about being in this place, the heat, the lack of heels as a weapon…I forgot all my instincts. The one time when I needed to run, I couldn’t. I think I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken, Lo. You shouldn’t have to be prepared for an encounter like that in a place like this.
Brandon is an asshole.” He pulls off my hat, smoothing my hair, and the way his big hand cups my face makes me want to assume full koala mode and cling to him forever.
“You’re very brave,” he adds in a softer tone.
“I’m sweaty.” I pout, not knowing what to do with that word he’s attached to me.
“You’re also not where I left you.” He lifts my hands, inspecting the multitude of tiny cuts.
“And there’s a very reasonable explanation for that,” I say quickly in my defense.
“Where’s your backpack?”
“In there.” I point to the building behind him, and he rolls his eyes before gently putting my hat back onto my head.
My cheeks burn, and I pull my hat low. I shouldn’t have left the restroom. Leaving my backpack on the ground, unattended, wasn’t the smartest move, but neither was spraying my fresh cuts with alcohol. No doubt Juliet would know not to do any of that.
I hear Jack’s question from before, ringing in my ears. Are you sure this is your thing?
“Hey.” Jack brings those determined eyes closer, ducking to catch my gaze. “None of this was your fault. You should be able to walk around here without worrying about a man assaulting you. But I won’t let him get near you again. You’re safe with me.”
My head dips as my eyes fall to my hands. “Okay. Thank you.”
But I can already tell that this formidable conviction of his to keep me out of harm’s way is still secondary to a stronger determination to keep me away from his heart.
I don’t have any delusions that I’m particularly special in this regard—I’d bet money it’s everyone he keeps at bay, not willing to risk the pain of anyone getting too close. The question is why.
“Do you want to press charges against Brandon? I can have my guys grab him at the other end of the rim,” he asks, bringing me back.
My brows draw in closer. “Should I?”
“If he’s involved with what I think he is, then it’ll help.”
“Okay. Then, yeah, I’ll do it if it keeps him from causing more trouble.”
Jack nods, straightening with a fortified breath before leading me back to the women’s restroom.
I’m just praying Marigold wasn’t mugged by an animal while I dealt with my latest faux pas.