11. Lana #2
He nodded. “I’ll stoke the fire and make sure it’s good to go for a few hours before we hit the sack. I need to get up and stretch out a bit before I wander too far, anyway.”
“Okay.” I reached for my boots. “Do you need help getting a sock over your injured foot? Or are you going to leave it bare?”
“I’ll just leave it bare. I don’t want to get a sock wet while I hobble about.”
“All right. I’ll look for a walking stick for you while I’m out.” Quickly, I laced my boots and tied them, then unzipped the tent flap and slipped out.
Outside, I lifted my jacket off the short stick I propped it on earlier and slid my arms into it. A quick smile ghosted over my face as I zipped it up. It was warm.
Flipping up the hood, I stepped out of our shelter and wandered about twenty yards away until I was hidden behind several trees. This was the part of wilderness camping I hated. Toilets were one of man’s greatest inventions, as far as I was concerned.
It didn’t take me long to do my business.
With my clothing back in place, I scoured the ground for a stick sturdy enough and tall enough to support Toren’s weight.
Halfway back to camp, I found the one. It even had a fork at the top, and another coming off the side, so he could tuck it under his arm and use it like a crutch if he wanted.
I held it out, turning it in my hands. Maybe he could do that. I wasn’t sure it was tall enough. The man was a giant.
As I headed the rest of the way back to camp, I kept looking for another long, sturdy stick, just to be safe, and found one not far from the shallow cave we were calling home. It was a little longer but didn’t have the fork at the top. It also wasn’t as green as the other one.
Toting both, I stepped under the outcropping and pushed my hood back, happy to be out of the rain. It was now mixed with fat snowflakes. We’d probably wake up to a blanket of white in the morning.
Turning toward the fire, my heart skipped a beat as I saw Toren standing beside it, balancing on one foot. The light cast a golden glow over his face and put a metallic sheen on his black hair. He looked a bit like what I imagined the Greek god Hades would look like. Tall. Powerful. Intimidating.
Beautiful.
Minus the ankle wrap and the tape around his fingers, of course.
“You found some walking sticks.”
And that voice. There was a hint of gravel in the rich tone that tickled my brain in delicious ways.
I cleared my throat softly, pushing those thoughts away. They would only get me in trouble under our current circumstances. “I did. Hopefully, one of them works.” Walking forward, I handed them to him.
He studied them both, then put the forked one under his arm. “This isn’t bad. I like the hand hold.”
I took the other one back, so he could limp around the camp.
“Don’t wander too far,” I said. “The weather’s getting worse.”
“I don’t plan to.” Glancing over his shoulder, he tottered toward the cave entrance. “I’m just going to step around the corner.”
I nodded. “I’ll be in the tent. Yell if you need help.”
“Will do.”
I watched him shuffle away for a few moments, making sure he was steady on his feet, then hung my coat up again near the fire and dove back into the tent.
“Brrr…” Rubbing my arms, I sat down and took off my boots, leaving them near the door, then unzipped my sleeping bag. Our combined body heat and the radiant heat from the fire had turned the tent interior much warmer than outside, but there was still a bit of a damp chill permeating the space.
Slipping into the bag, I zipped it up over my legs, then waited for Toren to come back.
Hopefully, this wouldn’t be too weird or awkward. We had our own sleeping bags, so I didn’t have to worry about rolling onto his side of the bed or anything. It still felt a little strange to share sleeping space with a stranger, though, no matter how nice he was.
When Toren returned five minutes later, my legs and feet had warmed enough to make the rest of my body sleepy. I was done with this day.
“Did you do all right with the walking stick?” I asked as he entered the tent.
“It wasn’t too bad, actually.” He crawled across the tent floor to his sleeping bag. “I think I’ll be okay with it to hike to the plane. We’ll just need to take it slow.”
That was a relief. I knew we could call in help if we truly needed it, but it was better for everyone if he could hike out himself, even if it took us twice as long.
Nylon rustled and a zipper ticked as Toren got into his sleeping bag.
I sank deeper into my own, suddenly hyper aware of his large presence only feet away. It was both comforting and not. While he made me feel safe, something about the man called to me on an almost primal level.
Something? my inner voice said, sarcasm ringing through my head. Try those rock-hard muscles, beautiful face, and brooding eyes.
I rolled my eyes, thankful the dim interior and the hood of my bag hid my face so Toren couldn’t see. Yes, he was all those things. And yes, that was probably what called to me.
With a quiet huff, I rolled over, away from temptation. I wanted to snuggle up to his side and that just wouldn’t do.
“Sweet dreams, Lana.” Sleep tinged his low voice.
I let go of the thoughts circling my mind and welcomed the fatigue I’d been holding at bay. “You too. Goodnight.” I closed my eyes, tugged my sleeping bag a little tighter around myself, and gave in to sleep.