Chapter 5
Flames flickered up as if they were trying to touch the bright stars filling the sky to look like someone spilled glitter on black paper.
“Wow,” I whispered, staring up. Goat curled half on my lap, filling the rest of the camping chair. Both of us were full and content, snuggled into a light blanket. Smith had cooked hamburgers and corn on the cob, and we washed it down with cold beer. It tasted so good, better than it should have, but open air always made me hungrier, and I swear it woke up my taste buds. Cooking had never been my thing, so I cleaned up, and now I rubbed my belly and took in the light show above us. I had never seen a sky so full of stars; the atmosphere felt close enough to touch.
The night was mild, but a twinge of a chill was in the air, and I had been far too lazy to change into jeans, using Goat and the blanket to warm my legs.
“Coming out here puts things in perspective. All those worries and problems, things you thought were wrecking your life, seem a little less here.”
My chin dipped down, my gaze landing on Smith across the firepit we built, his choice of words flicking curiosity across my brow. He was laid out on a blanket, his arms behind his head, staring up at the sky.
“Are there things… wrecking your life?” I shifted in the portable chair.
He exhaled, his attention staying above, not speaking for a while. “Don’t we all have things?”
“But I asked if you did.”
His sharp eyes slid to me, then back. “I thought you hated me.”
“I do.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter if I do or don’t.”
I scoured my forehead, annoyance itching my limbs. “I guess you’re right,” I clipped, needing to move, the tightness in my bladder giving me the perfect excuse to get up. “Forget I asked.”
“Already forgotten.”
My teeth ground together. What was it with this guy? No one seemed to aggravate me more quickly than him. Always had. Most everyone considered me very easygoing, never really getting mad. Even when I found Ethan screwing a girl in the bed I had been in the night before, I just turned around and walked out, never yelling or causing a scene. Even as he ran after me pulling up his pants, I calmly got in my car and drove away. Ignoring his calls, his pleas to forgive him and give him a second chance.
From an early age, with two very headstrong siblings, I was the one who didn’t want to make waves, who avoided conflict and drama, who stayed quiet in the background.
But Smith? Even when I was eleven, he roused my temper. His smirk and ego had me wanting to bring him down a few pegs.
I inched Goat off my lap. He was sleepy from chasing critters for the last two hours, but he snuggled back into the blanket as I rose.
“You going somewhere?” Smith peered over at me.
“To pee, if it’s okay, Dad?” My tone sounded a little snottier than I meant. It was beautiful out here, but one thing lacking was the amenities you’d find in RV parks… like bathrooms and showers.
“Just be careful.”
“Thanks. I think I have this bathroom thing down by now.”
“You sure, Baby K? Looks like you just got out of diapers.”
“Fuck off,” I snapped, grabbing a wad of disposable tissue and stomping deeper into the dark desert, hearing his rumble of laughter follow me out into the clear night. “God, he’s still such an asshole,” I muttered.
“Heard that!” His bark of laughter shot hot coals of fury into my nerves.
“Good!” I yelled back, moving farther out, not wanting him to hear me pee.
Venturing behind some brush, I tugged down my shorts, crouching low, starting to do my business, when something scuttered over my chucks; its tail curved up ready to strike at any moment as if it was saying, Come at me, bro! I dare you!
A scorpion…
Fear snapped at my lungs, my body reacting without thinking. A gurgled cry came up my throat as I kicked it off my foot and scrambled back. The shorts cuffing my ankles caused me to tumble back on my ass. Onto something… something prickly.
The sensation of hot needles piercing through my skin pushed a shrill scream from my lungs, lurching me forward on my hands and knees. The pain was so excruciating that darkness circled my vision, bile burning up my throat.
“Kinsley!” I heard my name being shouted, a massive figure running for me through the dark, Goat loping next to him. Smith’s feet stumbled when he spotted me…
My shorts and underwear were around my knees, my bare ass up in the air.
Kill me now.
Agony overtook any pride or decorum I had as I tried not to vomit, liquid trickling down my face. Goat reached me first, whimpering and licking my cheek, sensing something was wrong.
“Fuck! What happened?” Smith dropped down next to me. Peering around, he quickly assessed the spiky cactus behind me, which was good, because if I opened my mouth, I’d probably throw up. “Shit.” His hand came to my lower back, the other one touching my arm. His concern only added to Goat’s anxiety, whose whimpers grated at my heart. “I can’t see anything here. Can you walk?”
Taking deep breaths, debating between vomiting and passing out, I grunted, my head nodding, though I wasn’t sure I knew if I could even lift my head.
With another lick from Goat, I tried to push myself up. Smith’s hold tightened, taking a lot of my body weight as I slowly stood, swallowing back the bile. My bottoms dropped to my feet.
“Oh.” I grunted, reaching down for them.
“Forget them,” Smith ordered, snatching them off the ground. “You can’t put them on anyway. Not until I see if you have anything lodged in your skin.”
Tugging at my tank to at least cover my front a little, I let Smith partially carry me back to the campsite, Goat bounding around us with a yip, alert and concerned.
“Lay on your stomach.” Smith helped me step up into the back of the van to the built-in platform bed. Even through the pain, I cringed at how much of me he was seeing. This crossed all kinds of lines and was completely wrong. But all I could do was face-plant onto the duvet, Goat leaping up with me, curling next to my head, once again knowing I needed his calming comfort.
Smith turned on the inside light and slammed through the cupboards, finding what he needed before returning to me in the back.
“Here. Take these.” He handed me a bottle of bourbon he had bought at the store and several Tylenol. I downed them as he turned on a lantern to get better light on me, the first aid kit next to him.
My ass was already on fire, but it was like I could feel his gaze center on that area, like ray beams. He sucked in a breath, a tiny grunt huffing through his nose.
“What?” I croaked.
“Nothing.” His hand feathered from my lower back to the one butt cheek that took most of the attack. His touch flushed my entire body with heat and awareness. As I took several more swigs of alcohol, a breath of numbness ebbed the throbbing agony.
“You’re lucky. Looks like it was a stout spine cactus.”
“Lucky?” I grumbled.
“Yeah, these are painful, like thick spikes stabbing you, but they don’t embed in your skin. Those are fucking excruciating and a lot harder to get out.”
Another gulp of bourbon and I felt my head sag forward into Goat’s fur, using him as a pillow. He made a little noise and tucked deeper into my neck for comfort, easing some tension. Damn, I loved this dog.
“Let me boil some water. I need to clean it.”
I grunted in response.
“Did I not tell you to be careful? Thought even a city girl would know not to pee on a cactus.”
“Screw you,” I muttered into the bed. “I fell into one because there was a scorpion on my foot.”
“Scorpion?” His voice rose. “Were you stung?”
“No… I booted it before I fell on my ass… into the cactus.”
There was a beat before a booming laugh filled the cabin. “Jesus, what I would have given to see that go down.”
Too tired to reply, I held up my middle finger, causing another gruff of laughter. “Be back.” He slid out of the van, moving around. I heard a pot clanking on the camping stove while I suckled the bourbon like it was a baby bottle, every sip lessening my pain and cares. He returned, moving in next to me, setting down a bowl of soapy water on a built-in ledge acting as a nightstand.
“This will sting.” Water sloshed, drops of warm water falling on my skin, trailing down my thigh. I dug my head deeper into Goat as the fabric touched my skin, his gentle touch skating over the top of my ass, moving down. I sucked in, my tender wounds responding to the initial contact. But after a while, it dimmed into a low ache, the alcohol numbing the pain, but oddly heightening the awareness of his touch to the point it was the only thing I was conscious of.
“You seem to know what you are doing.” I talked, trying to distract myself.
“Had years of practice covering and mending wounds.” The underlying meaning of his words lashed at my heart. As a kid I didn’t involve myself in his life, but now I looked back wishing my family and I had done more for him.
“I heard about your father.” I balked as he touched a tender spot. “I’m sorry.”
The tension in the van rose, his silence filled with resentment and angry. “Yeah, well, it is what it is.” His voice was clipped.
“He was still your father.” I tried to hint I understood more than what was being said.
“Didn’t make him a good man.”
“And that doesn’t mean you still didn’t love him.” His muteness and awkwardness expanded until I spoke again. “You didn’t go to his funeral?”
“No,” he gritted. “Couldn’t make it.”
“OH.” This time I stayed quiet, dropping my head back into Goat’s fur. Smith dipped the cloth in the warm, soapy water, moving it back on my butt, forcing a hiss from my teeth.
“Sorry.” His husky voice traveled down my spine, curving between my legs. The washcloth swept over the curve of my ass, cutting close to the seam. Slowly. Sensually. A flush of heat spread over me. My breath stumbled, my heart picking up pace, my nipples
tightening.
I tried to dig through and find that logical part of my brain, but I couldn’t hold on to anything, getting lost in the sensation, my body responding without any notice to my brain. My back curved, inching my ass up a little higher.
He sucked in, his touch halting so briefly I could have imagined it. But I heard a tiny voice inside me yelling at me to stop, locking my bones in place. He lifted the cloth away, and I was sure he’d say he was done, but I heard the cloth dip into the soapy water again, the saturated fabric touching my other cheek. That side barely had been touched, but his attention didn’t skimp, the fabric tracing and wiping over the skin with care.
The silence seemed to choke the air as his hand curved the bottom of my butt, a trail of water slipping through my thighs to my core. A moan strangled my throat, my teeth clenching to keep it locked inside; the sudden need to be touched exploded through me like a fire.
Stop! Danger!A voice tried to scream, but all I could feel was the tightness in my breasts, the desire to open my legs spinning my head. What was wrong with me? Sure, I enjoyed sex, but even drunk with Ethan, I never felt like I needed it so bad I would actually break. My body trembled as I fought against every instinct, wanting to curve into his touch, to demand more. It’s Smith. You hate him. The argument did nothing.
The shift in the air prickled against my already tender skin, his hand sliding back deliberately to the other side, the texture of the cloth grazing my pussy. This time I couldn’t stop my response, my lips parting in a breathy gasp, my back lifting.
It was as if someone punched a hole through the top of the van and dumped ice-cold water on us. Smith jerked back with a hiss, shattering the bubble, flooding soberness back into my brain.
What the fuck? What was I about to do?
“Uh.” Smith swallowed audibly, shifting away. “I’m done.” His tone was cold and distant as he scooted away, climbing out of the van.
“Thanks.” A hoarse whisper barely made it out.
“You should sleep like that, let the wounds breathe. Then you can bandage it in the morning.”
I nodded, not able to look at him. Goat’s head darted between us, signaling he also felt the sudden change.
“Well, night,” Smith said briskly.
“Night.” I grabbed a blanket, draping it over my lower half, not carrying about anything but needing to cover myself. Vulnerable. Naked. Everything felt too much.
Smith moved around, shutting off the van light and grabbing a jacket from his bag. I heard him settle back on the blanket by the fire, every move brisk and icy.
Goat stood, peering at Smith with his ears up, almost like he was upset Smith was sleeping over there.
“Hey, boy.” I patted the spot next to me. He gave Smith one last look before he circled and plopped down.
Tension crackled through me; my body was slightly pissed at the one-eighty turn, almost to the point I debated if I needed to relieve the ache. But I fought against the idea, trying to recall that I not only didn’t like Smith, but he was completely off limits. Forbidden territory.
After a while the crackle of the fire, the soothing warmth of Goat curled into me, and the painkillers and alcohol allowed my mind to finally shut down. The exhaustion pulled me under, letting me forget my pain.
Too bad it didn’t last.