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Intuition hits me, and I think I understand what problem he might be having.
“Let’s go up and I’ll sit with you,” I find myself saying before I can think better of it.
Elijah’s head snaps over to me, giving me doe eyes like I just hung the moon or some shit. “Really?”
Bingo.
I shrug. “I mean, why not? There’s no rules against it.” At least, I don’t think there is. But just to be sure, I glance over at Kaleb, who nods.
“There’s no problem with it, but you do need to eat. We’ve had a long day, and tomorrow will be too. You need the energy.”
He lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Great. Another long, draining day in the wilderness planned for tomorrow. Just what I wanted.”
The mouth on this kid. I have to roll my lips inward to keep from laughing.
“C’mon. Let’s get back to the rest of the guys before we get in even more trouble.”
* * *
Between hiking earlier today and running around looking for Elijah afterward, my feet are indeed two slabs of raw meat by the time dinner is over. A fact which becomes even more apparent when I take a seat back on the dock and remove my shoes to find patches of inflamed skin that sting when the cool air hits them.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, taking in the carnage.
I flick open the first-aid kit I grabbed from the lodge and start out on cleaning the blisters when I hear the crunching of twigs and footsteps, alerting me I’m no longer alone on the dock. And though the voice is obvious once he speaks, I could’ve guessed it was Kaleb without turning around.
“Thought I might find you here,” he says as he drops to the wood beside me.
Lifting my gaze to collide with his reveals those green irises dancing with delight. A true I told you so expression sits on his smug face, and as much as I hate admitting it, I deserve it.
He was right by telling me hiking in damn boat shoes was a bad idea.
“I take it you’ve come to gloat?”
The corner of his mouth lifts a bit more. “Nah, I think the state of your feet does the rather disgusting job for me.”
My attention shifts back to my feet, and I realize, yeah, they sure do. But at least none of them are on the bottom of my foot.
“Here, let me,” he says, grabbing the roll of gauze before starting to wrap my left heel. He glances up at me for a moment when I don’t fight him on it. “Unless you’d rather me not. But I’ve had enough first-aid training to do this in my sleep.”
All I can do it nod for him to continue, because I’m left fucking speechless; truly unable to say a single word. Though maybe it’s because my subconscious knows it’s better for him to take care of it correctly rather than, once again, making a fool of myself.
Or it’s due to the zaps of energy coursing through me where his skin lingers on mine that I’m desperately trying to ignore.
He keeps tending to my wounds in silence for a while, simultaneously taking in the carnage as he goes. But when he moves to my other foot, he lets out a low whistle.
“Damn, you did a number on yourself,” he muses before wrapping the heel. “I have an extra pair of hiking boots, you know. So do plenty of the other counselors. All you had to do was ask around to borrow a pair in your size.”
“And here I thought you said there wouldn’t be any gloating,” I say dryly.
“I wouldn’t call it gloating so much as informing you so this doesn’t happen again.” He moves, wrapping a rather tender spot, and we both wince when the gauze makes contact with my skin.
“Motherfuck,” I mutter. “Might be better to chop ‘em off at this rate.”
His mouth twitches into something of a smile. “Still might have to after you decided to stick them into the lake water earlier. You did wash them out after, right?”
I roll my eyes. “I might be inept when it comes to packing for a couple months in the wilderness, but I know basic first-aid protocol.”
There’s another quiver of his lips, and I can tell he’s fighting back another comment. Or more laughter. Hell, probably both, if I had to bet on it.
