Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“It’s hardly babysitting, Talia. It’s common sense with new hikers.” I pretend to let my arms dip with the hefty weight of the bag. That earns me an almost grateful smile. “Everyone starts off as a beginner, and it’s better if you’re out there with an experienced hiker. You’d be surprised what you can stumble over on a calm day.”
“Like what? Something dangerous?” She watches me intently.
I heft the rucksack into the back of the Jeep for support. Rolf sniffs it curiously while I unzip it.
The tight-packed supplies explode out like I’ve just pulled the string on a party popper.
Talia shares an amused look before we start sorting everything, digging out plastic cups and a rappelling harness kit. I toss them freely into the cargo area, ignoring that sudden ache in my cock.
I could think of a few interesting uses for those ropes, but we shouldn’t be hitting any trails that need us tied together.
Mind out of the gutter, Ainsley. Right now.
The deprivation must be getting to me.
I haven’t had a woman since New York. Carina—some six years ago.
My last serious relationship, broken off years before I packed up for Redhaven. I’m not sure if I loved her.
I know she loved me, but she always said there was something unreachable about me. Something that scared her.
I never understood that, not when I was careful with her—always gentle, always putting her needs first, always holding back that part of me that wanted to leave red marks on her skin, that wanted to hold her down and make her thrash and beg.
I did everything I could to be safe for her—and I still frightened her.
No question, I’d scare the shit out of Talia, too.
That’s why I’ve kept myself in check since coming to this little town. With how brutal small-town gossip can be, all it would take is one misplaced hickey and everyone would start whispering.
Worse than when I first moved here and every single woman wanted to find out if my dick was as pale as the rest of me.
Talia’s still watching, waiting for me to explain.
I leave a few things like bundled-up snacks in the sack and wrestle with a bulging pack of space blankets, crinkling them noisily the whole time.
Really, woman?
She grins nervously.
I hold it up with a raised brow before tossing it aside. With a self-deprecating giggle, she glances away.
“What? I heard you can make tents out of them if there’s a real emergency.”
“Except we have tents, so we don’t need them.”
Shaking my head, I break the pack open and fish out five of the folded blankets, a small concession to their potential usefulness, and tuck them back into her pack.
I immediately pitch a box of cheap-looking hunting knives, still wrapped in the store plastic. They look like the kind of novelty things where the blade would break off the hilt with any pressure and probably leave a nasty cut behind.
“As far as dangerous goes, we won’t be taking on any particularly steep trails, but even experienced hikers still slip and fall,” I say. “Ravines can pop up out of nowhere when it’s this overgrown. You think you’re going through a break in the brush, and suddenly the earth is gone and your ass is bouncing down a rocky grade. Gopher holes, tree roots, buried rocks, they’re all waiting to snap your ankle. Then there’s the wildlife. North Carolina has cottonmouths, diamondbacks, copperheads, and they don’t take too kindly to being stepped on if they’re hiding under the leaves. Mountain lions. Coyotes. Plus, the simple risk of getting lost. You think you’re navigating by the sun and you know the way home. The next thing you know, you’re turned around and it’s night, it’s getting cold faster than you’d like, and you’re fatigued and low on water with no damn clue where the closest creek is. And that’s just the natural dangers, mind you. You know as well as I do that stumbling on the Jacobins without warning is a good way to get a face full of buckshot.”
Her eyes are saucers.
I’m pretty sure she’s stopped breathing.
“So hiking alone is always a bad idea, even when you’re good at it?” She swallows. “You sure know a lot about the woods for someone who just moved here.”
“I’ve been around long enough, but I guess a few years still counts as being new in a place like this—and what is this?” Frowning, I tug on a vacuum-packed bag wrapped tight around something rectangular and heavy as hell. It won’t come out, and I wiggle it, giving it another yank.
The clothes she packed underneath it go flying as I yank the bag free.
T-shirts, jeans, a thick parka, and some very interesting lacy things sail through the air while I stare at the label on the bag. It’s dense-packed cubes of instant high-protein survival food, the kind of stuff you’d find in a doomsday prepper’s bunker—and probably enough to feed five people for a week.