Chapter Three
Aaron
Skye left my cabin, her bikini bottoms hardly containing her curves.
She traveled to document beautiful places and beautiful things, but she always dressed in a practical way. Maybe not practical to my standards, but practical to her. If she wore a bikini, it was to go swimming, not because she wanted to show off her body.
Unfortunately for me,Iwas the one who came by, and there was absolutely no way for me to ignore all that skin.
Spending time with Skye had wasted more time than it should have. Now, when I’d normally have my camp set up, all I had was food in the fridge.
The sun was going down quickly, and the hot day shifted into a cool evening. I needed to get all my supplies into the cabin, get a fire started out back, and prepare dinner.
My plan for this trip was to relax. And for me, relaxing involved a routine and physical activity.
Sitting still wasn’t in my DNA. My pack didn’t have paperback novels or puzzles. All I had were hiking boots, electrolytes, and plenty of beef jerky.
I was hoping to do a day-long hike tomorrow. It was one I had done before and knew well. The view was worth the walk. But now I was second-guessing myself.
Was it a good idea to be gone all day, leaving Skye with only Kyle to keep an eye out for her?
If I told her what I was thinking she’d look at me like I was a misogynistic asshole.
Probably call me one too.
The woman was in her late thirties. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She traveled for work, not in a way that I would consider safe, but she did it. She had an old van that had all the things she needed to live, and drove it wherever the mood took her. She had traveled most of Canada, into the United States, and Mexico according to Cliff.
The thing looked like it was more rust than metal, but I had never heard of her getting stranded, so she must know what she was doing more than I gave her credit for.
She could fend for herself. And no, I wasn’t a misogynist. I had just seen a lot of shit. It made me paranoid, which made me vigilant. Besides, Cliff worried about her too. If something happened to her while I was around, he’d never forgive me, and I wouldn’t forgive myself either.
Maybe she was right when she said I always assumed I was the only one who could handle things.
But the alternative was to include her in my plans.
I frowned in frustration.
Once my supplies were all put away, I leaned into the fridge to pull out the steak I planned to fry over the fire.
Should I make one for her too?
She seemed to think this was now a buddy expedition.
I hated how much she was throwing me off my game. Slamming the fridge, I marched outside to get the fire going. I’d decide later whether I was cooking for one or two, plus a cat.
Skye was sitting at the picnic table in front of my cabin. She had a bunch of scattered pieces of black plastic on the table and a large bucket to her right. There was a camp chair sitting next tothe fire pit that Kyle was sleeping on. The little tuft of fur on the top of his head was wet from his swim and stuck up, looking like a mohawk.
Maybe Kyle was a good name for him.
“What’s up, cranky?” she asked, not glancing up from her work.
I stomped over to the picnic table. “What the hell are you doing?”
She held up a bucket that looked like it was full of rice.
“Cooking?” I asked.
“Have you ever heard that when you get water and electronics you’re supposed to put them in rice?”
