Page 14 of Campfires & Canines
“So, it’s a family operation.” Interesting.
“You could say that.” Why is he so cagey?
I press my tongue to my teeth, thinking. “What's the best part about living and working here?” I ask.
“Why all the questions?” He turns to me and raises an eyebrow.
“I’m bored,” I say with a shrug.
“Tell me about you then,” he says, readjusting the wet clothes slung over his shoulder and sending another cascade of rivulets down his chest.
“Answer my question first,” I argue. This man brings out my sass, for some reason.
“Fine. I like the community,” he says.
“Do you guys drive into town often?” I ask.
“Not really,” he answers, frowning. “You’re supposed to be telling me about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you like California?” Not what I expected him to ask.
“Like in general?” I reply. “It’s got great weather and the scenery up north is pretty.”
“Not Los Angeles?” he questions.
I cross my arms and scowl at him. “I guess I didn’t have the best time there.”
“What about where you grew up?” he presses.
“We moved a lot. Mostly boring suburbs,” I say. “I’d rather have actual nature instead of lawns.
“Yeah? Like this kind of nature?” he asks, the ghost of a smirk flashing across his face.
“Yeah,” I echo. With a groan, I look up to see the fallen log. It’s just as massive as I remember. There’s no way I’m trekking through the underbrush to go around it with an injured ankle and squishy wet tennis shoes.
“Let me help you.”
"What?" I eye his extended hands.
"Hazel, here." He grabs my waist again, lifting me like a child. His hands are hot against my chilled skin even through my tank top.
“Seriously?” I grumble.
He sets me squarely with my butt on the log. Without so much as a second of hesitation, he vaults up as if it's only two or three feet and not almost five.
A real smirk flashes across his face as he perches beside me. He's showing off! I can’t even be annoyed; it’s impressive.
"You know, if you want to go hiking, there are some scenic trails around here. I could take you."
I roll my eyes. "So you can keep an eye on me?"
He shrugs, launching himself off the other side.
With a sigh, I push myself off and into his arms. As he sets me down, his blank expression is back.
Clearing my throat, I resume our walk. From this point on, the trail is level. Meaning no touching. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
