Page 28 of Lost With You
“We’ve been paddling non-stop for ten days. I could use a break.”
Also, since the night of the torrential downpour, they’d shared the tent. With his body warming up the space and his soft breathing so close, she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. It’d be nice to be alone for a while, catch her breath, not be enthralled by him for every minute, both waking and sleeping.
He frowned. “Splitting up is against the rules, Casey.”
She shrugged. “You’re not hiking far.”
“Far enough to be out of sight and earshot. The path might be steep. I’ll have to climb.”
“Don’t climb,” she said. “Take a whistle. I’ll hear you.”
“Not if I fall and strike my head.”
She raised her brows. “Really? Scare tactics?”
“Safety first.” He unfolded to his impressive height. “We talked about safety, remember? Back when I dumped you into the lake that first day.”
Oh, she remembered. She’d fantasized about his hand on her ass ever since. Now she leaned forward, scrubbing her face with her palms. Dylan was right, both about safety and about her flagging enthusiasm. Today, it had occurred to her that it was possible that Dylan wouldn’t findanymarkers to match that old French fur-trading map or his grandfather’s oral history of a smuggling route. The expedition might flop, might not be worthy of theAmerican Backroadsarticle upon which she’d pinned her professional hopes.
But if she were honest, there was more to her frustration than that. She didn’t often get the opportunity to get to know the subjects of her assignments as well as she was getting to know Dylan. She’d learned that he was competitive in cards. That he liked to turn boring tasks into competitions. He offered small kindnesses when she least expected them. Most of all, for her comfort only, he strove to make light of the attraction sizzling between them. This intimacy was an emotional crowbar, prying her slowly open.
Then he loomed in front of her, the tent mallet still hanging from his hand. “I need you, Casey.”
Her pulse jumped, half from nerves and half from wanting, and for a moment she was too wrecked to respond.
“I need your perspective,” he added. “I’m so deep into the details of this expedition that I’m not sure I see things clearly.”
“Dylan, you’re looking for a landmark. You know how to use binoculars.”
“Don’t you want to be there if I find it?”
Yeah, she’d be pretty pissed if she missed a crucial moment.
“It’s barely a quarter mile to the outcropping,” he said. “A runner like you could cross that span in a minute, assuming it’s level and clear of debris. If the climb is hard,’ he conceded, “you can wait at the bottom.”
Another little kindness. “I just need a break.”
He shifted his stance, squinting toward the trees. “I suppose we could push this off until tomorrow.”
“Fromyou, Dylan.” She faced him squarely. “I need a break from you.”
His face flickered, and his jaw tightened. A sane woman would babble excuses, but she barely had the energy to speak. He knew why she’d asked for space. One lock of their gazes, one jumping arc of electricity, and the reason lit up the air between them.
She dropped her gaze as the sizzle danced across her skin. “You can’t tell me you and Garrick spent every minute together. I’m sure he stayed behind to sneak a phone call or two while you went exploring.”
“Garrick and I can tune each other out.”
Can’t you tune me out?
“I can’t leave you here.” He tossed the mallet aside and hiked his hands on his hips. “Not all alone.”
“I’m not afraid of bears.”
“It’s not bears I’m worried about.” He gestured to the mud by the canoe, pockmarked with a series of impressions. “Those are moose tracks. This is a watering hole.”
She drew up her legs, curling into herself a fraction. They’d glimpsed a bull moose yesterday by the riverbank, its enormous antlers dripping. “He’ll smell us,” she said, not afraid enough, “and avoid the camp altogether.”
“Maybe. Better if you take a hike with me. A partner always makes the road easier.”
