Page 29 of Carried Away

Chapter 21

Distractions

Carrie

Iscurryintothetent as fast as I can without tripping over a rock or a rogue tree root. The last thing I need is another excuse for him to hold me. I’m not sure I’ll stop with just one kiss.

I’d been so flustered after kissing him that I forgot to bring a flashlight. Cursing my impetuousness, I feel around in the tent, try not to trip over Livvie and wake her. There’s no way I’m gonna find my sleeping bag walking around. I’ll break my neck, and probably Livvie’s too if I try. Slowly lowering to my hands and knees, I use one hand to feel around in the darkness.

On the other side of the tent, I hear Ryan puttering around, probably putting things away before coming into the tent. Whatever I do inside this tent, I need to be done before he gets here because if he knows I’m awake, I’m afraid he’s gonna want to talk to me about that kiss.

That kiss!

I press my hands to my lips, remembering the pressure of his mouth, the surprise on his face, and the warmth of his skin against mine. How long has it been since I’ve been kissed? Months? Years? Way too long. I'll be thinking about that kiss for about as long.

Ryan closes the truck door and it beeps when he activates the locks. He must be getting close to coming to bed.

That thought bolts me into action and I crawl forward looking for another sleeping bag. I finally find it, but not before slamming into a duffel bag and practically falling over onto it. Biting off a yelp, I get back onto all fours and press forward. Ryan was between me and Livvie, so I should be near the far side of the tent, right?

I scrape my hand on the far wall of the tent and stop. Did I miss my sleeping bag? Did Livvie happen to move it while she was in here? Am I completely turned around in the darkness?

The campfire hisses as Ryan pours liquid over the last of the embers. His footsteps crunch over the dirt, getting louder.

My eyes widen and I panic, my hand swipes left and right looking for a sleeping bag. ANY sleeping bag to jump into and hide from him.

He’s nearly to the tent now. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest.

I whirl around and lunge to the side. My hand scrapes against fabric. I grab hold and verify that it’s not Livvie’s sleeping bag. Good.

Ryan’s footsteps pause outside the tent. His flashlight flickers outside the tent, giving me just enough shadowy light to see the opening of the sleeping bag. I kick my shoes off and dive inside.

His hands scrape against the zipper, stopping and starting a few times until he finally gets the tent door completely unzipped.

I burrow deeper inside my sleeping bag, panting, heart racing, and about as quiet, I’m sure, as a stampede of elephants. My body doesn’t slip right down. The friction of cotton on cotton from my clothes and the inside fabric of the bag forces slow progress. Aaaaand of course there’s a giant rock digging into my side from the ground.

When Ryan steps into the tent, I still completely and press my eyes closed, trying to appear as if I'm sleeping. Thank goodness he can’t hear my hammering heart.

Ryan re-zips the tent.

I risk a peek at him and scooch lower in my bag until only my eyes and forehead are visible outside the sleeping bag. When he turns from the zipper I press my eyes closed again. My eyelids brighten as the flashlight flickers over my face. His feet scrape over the canvas floor of the tent and pause near my feet. There's another flicker of light and I hear his uneven breathing.

I risk opening my eyelids a fraction to see what he’s doing. He’s toeing off his tennis shoes. Then, in one swift movement, Ryan pulls off his sweater and T-shirt, leaving him shirtless.

I breathe in a slow, awed breath. That guy has muscles on top of muscles. Holy smokes! How did he get sexier since high school?

My face flushes with heat and I press my eyes closed. I would probably ignite into flames if he caught me staring at him undressing. The kiss was bad enough. Let’s leave the awkwardness to one event.

I listen to Ryan rustle around in the tent for several more seconds before he unzips his sleeping bag and then rezips it.

When he finally settles, he whispers from behind me, “Good night, Babs. Sweet dreams.”

My eyes shoot open. My heart thunders again. Does he know I’m awake? Should I answer him?

I bite my lower lip so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to make it bleed. Then I murmur, “Good night.”

I press my eyes closed, hold my breath, and wait. I don’t know what I’m expecting. The sky to fall? For him to yell at me? For me to sink into the earth and die of embarrassment? After nearly passing out from oxygen, I let out my breath and relax. Then, I listen. Nothing.

Maybe he’s already asleep. Would I be so lucky?

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