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“There’s this saying about counting the ways…anyway, uh, I guess I know because I don’t think about the good times anymore. I don’t want to hold on to that. I let it all go, the good stuff. It’s the bad stuff that lingers like a disgusting aftertaste. I just wish I could let it all go. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I was blamed for, wondering if I should have done this or that differently.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Think about it. If it wasn’t right, letting go of it all was the best choice.” Steph drops her gaze. “I’m drunk. Don’t listen to me.”
“Drunk or buzzed?”
“Buzzed, I guess.”
“Then I want to hear what you have to say.”
She sighs this epic sigh that shakes the tent’s canvas walls. Or maybe because the tent is starting to swim around me. Maybe it’s not the beer. Maybe it’s my head injury.
“I think you should fight for it like what everyone says. You should try and grow and change together, but ultimately it’s up to both people to do that, not just one person. And one person can’t take all the blame if something fails. You should want to be the best you can be for you, but also for the other person because they bring it out in you naturally. Because they deserve all that goodness, but also because they’re giving you their damn level best too. Everyone says you can lose love, but I don’t really believe that. I just don’t think most people actually know what love even is. I don’t know. Maybe that’s too idealistic, and maybe that’s why I’m still single and have no hope of not being single.”
“That’s not idealistic.” I want to say more, but the words won’t come.
Steph shrugs. “So, why haven’t you dated?”
“There are lots of things to consider. It’s not a matter of just wanting to meet someone or not wanting to. It’s not even about putting yourself out there or not. You know I have the company to consider. And a lot of other things to consider.”
“I think fair is fair, and if someone’s entitled to half of something because they worked their ass off too, then that’s right. But in a lot of cases, man or woman, someone gets taken to the cleaners, and that’s shit.”
“Yeah, well…” I cough. “I guess that’s why I haven’t dated. Mainly to protect the company. A lot of people have jobs there, and they rely on the company to make their living. We work hard to make a difference in communities and in the world, everywhere. So, I guess that’s my reason.”
“That’s a pretty valid reason. But also, it’s because you didn’t want to be used.”
“Yeah,” I admit grudgingly. “That too.” Obviously. I don’t know anyone who wants to sign up to be used. I know there are probably people out there who would be up for it if the circumstances were right, but not me.
“I’ve told you a million, billion, gazillion times that you have nothing to prove,” Steph laments. “When are you going to believe me?” She’s waving her beer can around. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are pursed. She’s so freaking beautiful.
“Maybe because you just think that,” I fire back, but gently. Softly. There’s too much truth in it.
Steph leans in. Her eyes aren’t blurry or unfocused or anything. She looks completely sober. She looks so completely beautiful. We have a camping lantern thing on the floor off to the side, and under that light, under any light really, she looks like a mystical goddess of the night, with her dark eyes shining and her dark hair illuminated and glowing. The shadows and the light combine and dance over her face, sharpening every single feature and detail like her flawless creamy skin and her full lips, which are the perfect shade of pink. Not too rosy or pale. And not to forget, the tiny upturn of her nose at the end, the sharpness of her cheekbones, and the wonderful symmetry of her jawline.
I know I’m going too far. And I’m definitely leaning in too far. Too close. How did I get this close? Our faces are now just inches apart. Why are our faces so close?
“Maybe I just think that?” she reiterates softly. “Isn’t what I think worth something?”
“Of course, it is.” I brush back an errant strand of hair to join the others she’s already tucked behind the sweet shell of her ear. She has beautiful ears. Tiny and petite, like the rest of her.
I lean a little closer, and she leans in like she can’t hear me. I know she can because she has to be able to; she’s that close. Her breath hits my cheek, and I’m sure mine is hitting hers too. There’s some weird breathing chain going on.
She doesn’t pull away, and she doesn’t give me my space like she usually does. She’s still there, waiting. I realize I should do something. As in, lean back or man up and take a chance. Find out if this is worth the risk. But, of course, it’s worth the risk. It is because this is Steph. This is Steph, and she’s beautiful, patient, kind, smart beyond belief, capable, generous, and strong. I could use a thousand other words to describe her, but my brain pretty much shorts out, and other bits of an
atomy take over. Yeah, it’s not my big toe or my elbow that’s doing the thinking now—urging me to kiss her.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Steph mutters.
Her sweet, gentle, warm, and tiny hands cup my cheeks, and she drags my face the rest of the way to hers. Soft lips meet mine, hungry, demanding, insistent, wonderful, and scalding. It’s also as ferocious as the snake that just about did me in today and all those bears she keeps going on about.
She kisses me like she’s the one who has something to prove—that good things come in small packages. Good god, I’m just going to stop thinking and instead, enjoy every single second of this because I’m buzzed, and my head hurts. And just for once, I’d like to think about something other than the company, the wreckage of my divorce, and my life before that.
CHAPTER 7
Stephanie
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Am I really kissing Adam? Boss Adam or Wilderness Adam, they’re one and the same. And I’m kissing him, kissing Adam. Right. Now.
My lips are on his, moving against his. His tongue is right there, at the seam of mine, which constitutes a kiss. He tastes like beer, which isn’t gross, and something oddly spicy, a nice spicy like cinnamon or nutmeg with an overriding undercurrent of something else that is deep and manly, which is overwhelmingly delicious. He sure knows what he’s doing. This kiss is going to haunt me forever. It’s one of those kisses you don’t come back from.
