Midnight Sons Volume 2 (32 page)

Something bit her and Karen slapped her neck. The mosquitoes swarming about her face were evidently thrilled with her arrival. Already she had two huge swellings on her neck. She’d be lucky to get out of this place whole at the rate the bugs were dining.

“If your feet are wet you’d better put on a fresh pair of shoes,” Matt said after he finished unloading their supplies.

“I only have the one pair. You told me to pack light, remember?” If Sawyer was late picking them up the following afternoon, Karen swore she’d kill him. Her enthusiasm for this undertaking had never been high. The little interest she did feel was vanishing rapidly.

“We’ll make camp by that cluster of trees,” Matt told her, pointing into the far distance. “The river’s directly behind it.”

Karen drew a deep breath as she remembered Lanni’s adventure with the brown bear when she’d taken Abbey’s children out to gather wildflowers on the tundra. Scott had delighted in telling Karen how he was sure they were about to become “dead meat” that afternoon.

Matt had tried to reassure her about bears, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d had Mitch Harris teach her how to shoot off the can of pepper spray. Karen gave a heartfelt sigh. Matt seemed to believe this trek in the wilds would be one grand adventure. He’d talked excitedly about the wildlife they might see, mentioning moose, caribou, Dall sheep and
wolves. Then he’d blithely told her she didn’t have a thing to worry about.

“Why do mosquitoes love me so much?” she grumbled, although she didn’t really expect an answer. “You’d think they were holding a dinner party and I was the main course.”

“They’re always more of a problem by the water,” he reminded her.

Karen’s feet made squishy sounds with every step she took. Matt might have advised her about adding an extra pair of shoes to her pack, she thought again—but she didn’t want to be a complainer.

He was trying to make this a positive experience for her, and she felt guilty every time she found something else to gripe about. Unfortunately a camping-and-fishing trip wasn’t even close to anything she considered fun. If Matt and his buddies enjoyed this kind of stuff, fine. Just leave her out of it.

It seemed they’d been walking for miles, but in actuality, she realized, it couldn’t have been more than a few hundred yards.

Matt slid the large backpack from his shoulders and set it on the ground. “We’ll make camp here.” Quickly and efficiently, he began to unpack.

He’d carried almost everything, and feeling equal parts guilt and exhaustion, Karen leaned against a large boulder and simply watched him.

“First I’ll pitch the tent and then we’ll do some fishing.”

“What about dinner?” She was already hungry. It must have something to do with running around in the great outdoors, breathing fresh air. But then, you couldn’t find air any purer than what she’d been breathing in good ol’ Hard Luck. It seemed unnecessary to travel hundreds of miles north when the air at home was just as fresh and unpolluted. Besides, she could feel a cold coming on and would’ve preferred the comfort of her own surroundings. The truth was, she wouldn’t mind crawling into bed right this minute. A
real
bed.
Her
bed.

“Dinner?” Matt said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “That’s why we’re doing the fishing first.”

Karen groaned. He expected her to catch her own dinner. A crucial question occurred to her. Namely, what would she do if she struck out—did no fish mean no dinner? This was the first time she’d ever gone fishing.
And probably the last,
she muttered to herself.

She felt decidedly annoyed that her very own ex-husband would assume she knew anything about this camping and fishing business when she’d never so much as baited a hook.

“It won’t take me long to set up camp,” he said, removing a few more things from the huge backpack.

Karen was astonished that he could carry everything they’d need for the night in that contraption. And she was impressed at how easily he assembled the small tent. Before she knew it, Matt stood in front of her, holding two fishing poles. “Ready?”

She wasn’t. “I guess so,” she said, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice.

It was an effort to ease herself away from the rock.

Matt offered her his hand.

“I’m not good at this kind of thing,” she said, slapping at another mosquito. Then she sneezed. Twice.

Matt led her to the river, whose rushing water emptied into the lake, and in no time Karen had a fishing pole in her hand. However, she soon learned that whatever it was that attracted fish—and she refused to believe it was the offensive-smelling egg at the end of her hook—she lacked it.

Clearly Matt didn’t suffer the same affliction. He cast his line into the water and almost immediately got his first bite. He’d brought in two fish, one after the other, and all Karen had caught was a cold.

She sneezed once more and rubbed her nose with her sleeve.

Matt stood in the middle of the river—or “stream,” as he
called it—wearing rubber hip boots. Water swirled around him as he held his fishing pole in one hand and fed the line with the other. He glanced over at her and smiled in perfect contentment.

“It doesn’t get any better than this!” he shouted over the sound of the surging water.

“You mean it gets worse?” she shouted back. Matt laughed; he seemed to think she was joking, but she was serious. Dead serious.

Uneasy about walking into the middle of a river, despite the protection of the hip boots Matt had given her, Karen remained close to shore, feeding her line into the clear, tumbling water. She’d about given up hope of snagging one of the rainbow trout that seemed to migrate toward Matt’s line when she felt something nibble at her bait. She actually
felt
the fish nibble. Her eyes lit up, and she gasped with excitement.

“Matt.” She didn’t dare shout for fear of alerting the fish that it was about to become their main course. Matt didn’t respond, so she raised her arm above her head and waved.

At that precise moment, the fish decided to take the bait and the fishing pole shot out of her hand.

“Matt!” she screamed.

“Grab that pole,” he yelled, wading toward her, his eyes filled with panic. His expression told her she was replaceable, but the rod and reel were not.

Karen didn’t have any choice but to go splashing into the fast-rushing stream after the rod. It would’ve been lost if the reel hadn’t caught between two rocks. She just managed to rescue it, but lost her fish.

By the time she made her way back to shore, she was drenched.

Matt reached her side and jerked the pole away from her. “I thought I explained that this is expensive equipment! I can’t afford to lose a rod and reel, so hold on to it, will you?”

She looked up at him and blinked back tears. When she
spoke her voice sounded muffled—probably because she was trying not to cry. Or sneeze. “I had a fish on the line. I…I wanted you to watch me bring it in.”

He exhaled sharply, then placed his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Karen sniffled, more than ready to abandon the whole venture, but Matt wouldn’t hear of it. Against her will she found herself standing on the edge of the flowing water less than five minutes later. Sneezing. It seemed to take an eternity to attract another trout.

Then, suddenly, she experienced the same sense of exhilaration as a fish nibbled at her bait. This time she was ready when the trout encountered the hook. She gripped the fishing pole with both hands, prepared to catch a trout or die trying.

“That’s it, honey!” Matt hollered, his excited voice carried on the wind. “Give the line more slack,” he ordered.

Karen had no idea what he was talking about, but she must have done something right, because she didn’t lose the fish. Her arms ached with the strain, but she held on as the fish leapt and fought.

Matt was there to lift her prize out of the water, using the net. “He’s a beauty,” her ex-husband told her with a proud grin.

“He sure is.” Karen gazed at the fish fondly as it flopped around in the net.

Matt deftly removed the hook from the trout’s mouth and was about to place it in the basket when Karen stopped him.

“Put him back,” she said.

“Back?”
Matt’s eyes held a look that said he must’ve misunderstood her.

“He’s too beautiful to eat. And too brave and noble.”

“Karen…you’re not serious.”

“I mean it, Matt!” she cried. “I don’t want him killed.” Not after the way he’d struggled to live. Not after she’d looked him in the eye.

Matt did as she asked, but he wasn’t pleased.

From that point forward, their afternoon went downhill. Karen thought wryly that from her vantage point there was nowhere else for it to go. By dinnertime she was tired, hungry and in no mood to commune with nature. She wanted dinner, a hot bath and her own bed, in that order. No luck on any score, however.

Her contribution to dinner was a disaster. Fortunately, Matt had caught a couple of trout, which he cleaned while Karen prepared the vegetables. She dumped a can of beans in a pot, then sliced some potatoes to fry in a pan. By accident, she charred them. Smoke got in her eyes, blinding her, and she coughed and hacked. When she could see the potatoes again, they resembled dried cow chips. And the beans had become a mass of soggy lumps. To her relief, Matt took over then, and handled the frying of the fish. The result was delicious—even though Karen’s misery didn’t allow her to truly enjoy it.

Matt’s festive mood had dissipated by the time they crawled into the tent that night. Tired as she was, Karen had assumed she’d immediately fall asleep. That wasn’t the case.

For one thing, the atmosphere in the tent was…intimate. If she’d understood that they were going to be holed up inside this tiny space together, she would’ve insisted they bring an additional tent.

“Something smells,” she said after a few minutes. Every time she closed her eyes, her nose was assaulted by a repugnant scent. It reminded her of skunk.

“It’s your mosquito lotion,” Matt suggested.

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is, Karen. I’ve been smelling it on you all day.”

“Fine.” She rolled away from him, presenting him with her back. Just like a man to stink up a place and then claim it was the woman’s fault. Anyway, if it
was
the bug repellent, which
she doubted, he had it on, too. Maybe not as much as she did, but still…

Ten minutes must have passed before Matt spoke again. “I didn’t mean that as an insult,” he said gently.

“I know. I’m just tired and cranky.” What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath and clean sheets…

“You comfortable?” he asked next.

“No.” She itched and her back hurt. Matt had put an air mattress under the sleeping bag, but it was a poor substitute for a real bed. The ground was still hard.

Five minutes later she announced, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

“You went half an hour ago.”

“I can’t help it. These things happen when a woman’s pregnant. You don’t need to come with me—I’m perfectly capable of marking my own territory.”

Matt chuckled, but followed her out of the tent nonetheless. When they crept back inside, the smell of the bug repellent wasn’t as strong as it’d been earlier. Or maybe she’d just grown used to it.

Matt sprawled out atop the sleeping bag. He lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head.

Karen glanced at him, then released a slow, pent-up sigh and lay down again. She was careful to keep a respectable distance between them.

This wasn’t so bad, she decided. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the lodge, but she’d survive for one night. As long as they weren’t attacked by any wildlife.

“Are you asleep?” Matt asked.

“No.”

“Why don’t you put your head on my shoulder?”

In other circumstances Karen might have worried that Matt was planning to seduce her. She doubted it now, since she wore
half a bottle of bug repellent and hadn’t bathed. Tentatively she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

That felt better. A lot better.

“I’m a disappointment to you, aren’t I?” she asked softly.

“No.”

“I don’t think I’m a good advertisement for the business. If any of the travel agents ask me about the fishing, I guess I can tell them about the one I set free.”

Matt ran his hand along her hair. “You’re doing okay.”

“Well…I do have to confess this isn’t my idea of a fun time.”

“Really?” Matt seemed surprised.

“I’m sure plenty of women enjoy camping-and-fishing trips, but unfortunately I’m not one of them.”

“But I thought—” He bit off the statement.

“What did you think?” she prodded.

He hesitated.

“Matt?”

“I thought…you’d consider this…romantic.”

“Romantic?”
The man needed therapy. Or maybe just a good dictionary.