Page 42 of My Fearless Fake Fling

He stuck the paper in the front window for anyone who came upon the truck to read. He bleeped the locks and then we hiked.

As a jump instructor, Len kept one of those go-cameras strapped to a helmet in the backseat, so he could record the jumps for his clients. He fastened the helmet to his head and I couldn’t help but giggle. He kind of looked ridiculous hiking with a helmet cam on his head.

Normally, he used his phone, but I understood why this would be more convenient.

I guess I never realized how long it took to hike up a mountain. Hours we spent searching out the perfect camping spot, finally reaching a plateau clear enough to set up the tent. And his tent, it set itself up. Literally, it unfolded on its own into a dome once we pulled it from the thin, cylindrical bag. Refolding it would be the work.

“Well, that went easy enough,” I said.

He shoved my shoulder lightly. “Yeah… yeah.”

I didn’t understand what he meant by the playful gesture. “It didn’t?” I asked.

His face dropped to a stone-cold serious expression. “Oh, you were serious.”

“Yes… did I say something wrong?”

Len bent over and started clearing a spot close to the tent—but not too close—of debris such as leaves and sticks and twigs. “We have to make a firepit for warmth and protection that won’t burn down the forest.”

Of course, a fire pit. Didn’t I feel stupid? “What do you need me to do?”

“This is a natural place to camp, so it looks like people have made our job a bit easier.” With the last few leaves, sticks, and pieces of trash out of the way, a dirt circle surrounded by stones revealed itself. “See these stones, they’re the barrier. We just have to reinforce them and gather firewood.

“That makes sense,” I said. “It’s just… I’ve never camped before. Roughing it for us as kids meant staying at my grandmother’s cabin. We never slept in tents and her firepit had been purchased from a home goods store.”

I thought he’d make at least a little bit of fun of me for being a priss, but he didn’t. “No, I get it. Not everyone’s family camps. Mine didn’t either after my parents’ divorce. Mom never wanted to do any activities that reminded her of Dad. Now my brother and I would go every summer. Just he and I. It was our chance to catch up.”

“Catch up?” I asked.

Len stood on the end of one of the thicker sticks—one might even call it a thin tree branch—and pulled up to break it in half. He did this several more times to several more sticks, then stacked them once he had enough, stuffing dried leaves and a paper cup that other campers had left behind into open spots between the sticks for kindling. Even I knew that much.

Just because my grandmother’s firepit came from a box didn’t mean she’d neglected to teach me how to start a fire.

“He told the judge that he wanted to live with my dad, thinking they’d give me the same choice.” He shrugged. “But I was four years younger and never got asked. My parents decided if he was staying with Dad, then I’d get sent to live with Mom.”

Before he finished telling his story, a brilliant fire blazed in the pit. We’d have to hunt up more wood to keep it going, but at least we had a start and I could whip us up something to eat.

I wanted to ask him more about his brother, but his whole demeanor changed. He seemed sad and we weren’t about sad, not today. That decided, I asked, what did we pack to eat?”

“I have steaks in the cooler.” Lifting his finger and thumb in the shape of a gun, he flicked his wrist as if taking a shot, the ‘gun’ pointed at the cart, and he made a clicking noise with his mouth.

“How do you eat your steaks?” I asked.

Len stretched his arms up over his head, lifting the bottom of his T-shirt to show a strip of golden tanned skin. “With a knife and fork,” he said, winking at me.

“So well done it is,” I teased back. I’d sooner bite a cow’s behind than condemn a beautiful sirloin to end its days as a dried-out piece of charcoal.

The grimace he sent me was exactly the reaction I wanted.

Point for Kami.Yes.

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