CHAPTER 6
Riggs
Kill me now.
As soon as I hear those ridiculously sexy boots make tracks in the snow, I turn to watch her walk away.
This might be the best and worst thing to happen to me in a long, long time.
The sway of her hips in that bikini has my blood pumping and to one place in particular.
What a body! And she seemed genuine, too—sweet, even.
She even offered to help with the camp. What woman does that?
Despite her blond hair, perfectly sloped nose, and those lips—those kissable pink lips—the whole time she was standing there, I kept hearing Veronica’s words in my head, “Any girl deserves better. Maybe keep that in mind the next time you flash those baby blues at a girl.”
I’ve given those words a lot of thought, too much thought.
Hell, I can’t stop thinking about them. Looking back, I guess I’ve hurt every girl I’ve ever been with.
Veronica was right, I can’t keep doing that.
Besides not being fair to the girl, it ends up hurting me.
I’m tired of breakups, and I just don’t have it in me to go through another one.
But the alternative, staying single for the foreseeable future, seems almost as bad. I guess the key word is “almost.”
Still, I can’t help wondering if there’s a way to have my cake and eat it too.
Could I actually pull that off? Hold on to a girlfriend long enough to end up married with a family of my own?
The thought of giving up on that feels like a thousand swords cutting my soul to ribbons.
But who am I kidding? Hypothetically, say I started dating Blondie.
We’d fall in love, then I’d do what I always do—leave with Ash for a three-month adventure somewhere on the other side of the planet.
The last three places we explored come to mind—Mongolia, Icefall Brook in British Columbia, and the jungle in South America.
With the exception of a few months between trips, that’s where Ash and I were during my entire relationship with Veronica.
I have mixed feelings about the trips now.
Even though they ended up costing me my love life, Elsie was ecstatic about how the videos turned out, especially the ones from Icefall Brook.
Before Ash and I spent three months trekking around bear country and climbing big ice deep in the Canadian Rockies, people saw us as two guys who had fun in the outdoors with plenty of mishaps.
But that changed when we did a three-day ice climb.
It wasn’t the hardest climb that’s ever been accomplished, but it was in the top ten.
Elsie said that trip was a huge success. Not only did the YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok videos go viral, but she was approached with a proposal for a reality show by none other than National Discovery. They’re huge.
That deal is still in the works. Basically, nothing would change for Ash and me.
We’d keep doing what we’re doing, but instead of the videos being on social media, they’d be on the big network with a global audience.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Same story, different girl.
I’d always be gone. Blondie would be miserable.
I’d ruin her life just like I ruined Veronica’s and every other girl I’ve dated.
It’ll always be the same. Blondie would end up as another notch on Ash’s walking stick.
I don’t like it. Watching Blondie walking away like that is making my cock hard as iron, and I really don’t like that, but keeping my distance is the right thing to do. So why am I letting her come help me? It’s such a bad idea.
The only thing I can do now is not let my bad choices lead to worse things. That means no flirting, and no getting to know her. We’ll get the camp set up, I won’t do anything that gives her the wrong idea, then we’ll go our separate ways. It’s that simple.
When she’s over the hill and out of sight, I try to put her out of my mind by starting on the shelter. I begin by gathering enough tree limbs to make a frame for a dome. Ash and I like to be able to stand up and move around, so it’s going to be bigger than most bushcrafters’ survival shelters.
I cut evergreen limbs with my folding saw, then with my axe I trim them down to long poles.
In my pack is a roll of bank line. I use it to tie the frame together, leaving an opening at the top to vent smoke from a fire.
Next, I gather piles of untrimmed limbs and start covering the frame.
It doesn’t take many of the broad pine branches to do the job.
When it looks like a giant green ball stuck halfway into the ground, I start to pack on snow.
In no time, I have a huge igloo. With that accomplished, I check my watch.
It’s been about an hour, and she’s not back yet.
Did she change her mind? That would be a good thing, right?
Of course it would be. So why am I disappointed?
I need to stop thinking about her, so I concentrate on the task in front of me.
The fire pit Ash used to melt snow is a good place for a couple of chairs and a table.
Some people think spending the energy to make a coffee table out in the wilderness is a waste of calories, but when they use it for the first time, they understand how easy it makes things.
It’s perfect for preparing meals, and on clear nights, I love to lean back in a good chair by a big fire and put my feet up on the table to relax and watch the stars.
It’s when I do my deepest thinking, usually about my life and what I want out of it.
Most nights, I end up fantasizing about a wife who’s more than a companion; she’s my best friend who gave me two kids.
In this alternate universe, I never leave, and somehow, I’m still happy.
But how? How can I give up what Ash and I have and still be happy?
I guess that’s why they call it a fantasy.
I finish the table in no time, but only because I’ve made hundreds of them.
Next up, the chairs, but I’ll need a sharp knife, and mine’s a little dull after building a few shelters during the storm this week.
I started to notice it with this shelter, but the table was the last straw.
It’s about as useful as a butter knife now.
From a fallen dead tree, I use my folding saw to cut a large log for a temporary chair. Then a thought occurs to me. What if Blondie comes back? I can’t help hoping she does, even though I know it’s better if she doesn’t. Regardless, I cut a second log, just in case.
I set both logs in front of the fire Ash started. His pot is full of hot water, so I set it on the snow to cool down. I have a little water left in my canteen, but not much, so I’ll want this water before I’m done with the chairs.
I take a seat on the first log, pull the small sharpening stone out of my pack, and remove the knife from the sheath at my belt.
I’ve always liked a big knife, even when I was a kid.
This knife is sixteen inches long. It’s wide with thick steel making it virtually indestructible.
When I was fifteen, I hand-forged it from a leaf spring I got off an old truck.
Hard to believe I’ve had it for seventeen years, and it’s still in great shape.
That’s a stark reminder that I’m thirty-two and destined to be single for the rest of my life. Not a good thought.
I run the blade down the sharpening stone, slow and gentle, making a slicing motion—
“Wow, it’s so big.”
“Dammit!”
I didn’t hear her coming, and when she startled me, I sliced my thumb. It might have gone all the way to the bone, and now I’m bleeding all over myself. Guess my knife isn’t that dull after all.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Before I can answer she pulls her phone from the side pocket of her sexy-as-fuck yoga pants. “I’ll call for help.”
I grab my thumb with my other hand and squeeze tight. “Hold on, you don’t need to call anyone.”
She hesitates, then lowers her phone. “Are you sure? Because it looks pretty bad. That’s a lot of blood.”
“I’m sure.” I use my foot to push my pack out in front of me. “I have a first-aid kit in here, but I could use some help.”
I’ve always had a weakness for yoga pants and the way the tight fabric is showing off her curves, I’m surprised my thumb is still bleeding with how much blood is flowing to my groin.
How is getting hard in this situation even possible?
You would think that the burning sensation from having your flesh severed all the way to the bone accompanied by the intense throbbing from applying too much pressure would be enough of a distraction from her cock-tease outfit, but somehow it’s not.
It’s a strange feeling to be in pain and turned on at the same time.
Is this how people get into whips and chains?
Is this my first step to becoming a sadomasochist?
I guess the real question is, will I be a submissive or a dominant?
Oh, the things I’d like to do to her. Hmm. Definitely a dom.
With a scrunched-up nose at the bloody mess, she puts her phone back in her pocket. I’m sure it’s a gory scene so I can’t blame her if she’s a bit squeamish. “Okay,” she says quickly. “What do you need me to do?”
“Go ahead and take a seat.” I didn’t expect the second log chair to be needed in this way, but I’m glad it’s here.
Sitting across from me, I thought her ass being out of view would make things more comfortable, but the neckline of her long-sleeve sweater runs low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage.
The whole thing is seriously cramping what little room I had behind my zipper.
A raging hard-on is the last thing I need right now.
If it wasn’t so embarrassing, I’d probably be laughing at myself. It reminds me of when I was a kid.