Summer Kisses (291 page)

However, I didn’t want him to crash and burn the first time he poked his head out the door. What sort of friend would I be if I let him walk into it blindly?

“We done?” John asked, sweat still pouring down the sides of his face underneath the elastic band from his goggles.

I shrugged. “Sure. I don’t mind quitting while I’m ahead.”

I only hoped he wouldn’t quit on Will.

Friday night, I stood in front of my dresser.
What to take for the backpacking trip?
I didn’t want to pack too much and have to carry it, but I wanted to be prepared for any situation. Quinn’s promise to provide a backpack, tent, water, and food meant I only needed to bring clothing and toiletries.

Toiletries were easy. In a Ziploc baggie, I packed hotel-sized shampoo, conditioner, soap, and toothpaste. In a second baggie, I put a mini first-aid kit that would cure the gamut of bug bites, scratches, and minor burns to headaches and allergies as well as bug repellant. I also secreted away a six-pack of Oreos because I needed to be prepared for that moment when all that stood between me and starvation was a few chocolate cookies.

What can I say? I’m weak.

When the doorbell rang the next morning at o’dark thirty, I stumbled toward the front door, awake but still uncaffeinated and barely functioning. Makeup had been out of the question, and my hair was in an oh-so-charming lopsided ponytail on top of my head.

I don’t care what I look like
. We were going camping, not to a fashion show. Quinn and I were not dating, so therefore it would be foolish of me to get all prettied up for the occasion.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself, even as I pulled the door open.

Quinn stepped back, clearing his throat. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.” He didn’t even try to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Okay. Maybe I should have tossed on a little mascara and lip gloss.

I lifted my duffel and struggled with the handle as it tangled in my ponytail, which I should have braided.

“Let me get that for you.” He took the bag from me before I did myself serious harm.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll see that I get coffee soon,” I muttered.

“Not a morning person, are you?”

I flipped off the porch light, armed the security alarm, and stepped onto the porch to lock the door. Squinting up at him, I asked, “It’s not yet morning—but what gave you the first clue?”

“The implied threats to my person.”

“If you thought they were implied, clearly you missed my meaning.”

He chuckled.

The sun was inching its way up from the horizon as he opened the passenger door. He waited until I climbed in, then opened the back door and tossed my duffel bag in the tiny back seat. Rounding the front of the truck, he got in and reached behind my seat, coming up with an old green, metal thermos.

“Coffee, Madame?”

“Oh, bless you.” I took it from him. After pouring the fragrant Columbian roast into the lid/cup, I ventured a sip. Nearly perfect.

“I have sugar and cream if you like.” He waved a baggie of coffee fixings, pilfered from McDonalds if the labels on the sugar packets were any indication.

“You’re too good to me.” I doctored my coffee to perfection. He took a sip from a travel mug.

I’d mostly come to accept that we’d never be anything more than good friends. But as he pulled from my driveway, I lamented that fact. Anyone who rescues me from an early morning pre-coffee stupor is okay in my book.

“You can lean back your seat and snooze if you want.” Quinn pulled onto the highway, sealing his title as
The Perfect Man
. “It’s a good three and a half or four hours until we get to Mammoth Cave.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine once the caffeine kicks in.” I yawned, negating my statement. “So why Mammoth Cave?”

“It’s one of my favorite places to backpack. I know it well. The drive isn’t bad and, unlike most of the local spots, it’s not too inundated with hikers.” He took another sip of coffee, set his cup back down in the cup holder, then changed lanes. “And there’s plenty to do outside of the woods. Have you ever been to the caves?”

“Once, when I was a kid. The only thing I remember is the tour guide turning out the lights in this giant cavern and me screaming my head off because it was so absolutely and completely dark.”

“I’ve been on that tour,” he said with a grin. “A couple of years ago, there was some little girl with a voice that would make dogs weep who had a major meltdown.”

“It wasn’t me.” I defended myself with a grin.

I enjoyed the car trip in a way I haven’t enjoyed one in years. Quinn and I kept up a steady stream of fairly harmless banter for the entire drive.

We arrived at Mammoth Cave State Park’s main terminal by eleven and walked from the parking lot up to the main building. Tourists milled around, waiting for their guided tours and gushing over ones they’d just taken, as we stepped up to the ranger’s station, a desk near the souvenir shop.

Ranger Ricki—I swear that was her name—looked up and smiled at Quinn. “Hi. Can I help you?”

I had a couple of uncharitable thoughts about her perky tone and very-happy-to-see-Quinn expression.

Hussy.

Except for the highly unflattering uniform and utility belt, she could have been a cheerleader. I had an intense desire to mark my territory but quelled the impulse since A, Quinn wasn’t mine, B, peeing on him in the middle of the ranger station would be poor form, and C, probably not appreciated by anyone, including Quinn.

“Hi-” He paused for a moment to study the nametag over the top of her left breast, “Ricki. We’d like to reserve a backcountry campsite.”

“Have you been here before?” When he nodded, she continued. “Do you have any particular site in mind?”

“What do you have available?” he asked.

She pulled out a thick reservation book, and Quinn studied it for a moment, leaning over the counter. I swear Ranger Ricki leaned forward to smell his cologne. I avoided growling but barely.

“How about the Waterfall for tonight and…” He ran his finger down a list of campgrounds. “First Creek for tomorrow?”

“Good choices,” Ranger Ricki said. “You should be pretty secluded both days. We don’t have a lot of hikers out there. Be sure to sign in at the trailheads and sign back out when you leave.”

We filled out camping permits, and she kept a copy for herself and gave us ours. “And keep your permits on you at all times.”

Quinn thanked her and then turned to me. “You’ll like tonight’s site. I camped here once before.”

“Is it really near a waterfall or is that only a clever name?”

“Waterfall might be overstating it a bit. Of course, the last time I was there, Kentucky was in near-drought conditions. Now it might be more than a trickle because of all the rain we’ve had this year.”

As we stepped through the lobby toward the exit, he stopped and pointed at the door marked “Ladies.” “You might want to take a last opportunity to use the facilities. There won’t be any where we’re going.”

“Good idea.”

I met him back in the lobby a few minutes later, and we walked back to his truck. The trip through the park to the trailhead was short. Quinn looked over at me. “You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Quinn got out and went around to the back of the truck. He pulled out two dark gray packs. One filled, one empty.
Holy cow.
They were huge. I was never going to be able to carry one of those.

Quinn must have noticed my distress. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to weigh you down.” I looked from him to the pack doubtfully. “Get your duffel, and we’ll get you packed.”

While he waited for me, he packed a few things from the cooler into the top of his bag. “Just pull out what you need for tonight and tomorrow morning. We’ll be coming back to the car before we go out tomorrow afternoon.”

After he stuffed a sleeping bag in the bottom of my bag, I threw in a tank top, an extra pair of undies, a clean sports bra—all the while embarrassed that Quinn was seeing my unmentionables and thanking heaven I decided against the white granny panties—socks, a flannel shirt, and an extra pair of jeans along with the two Ziploc bags.

“There isn’t any more room in my pack.” Quinn pointed to a tent in a nylon bag. “If you want to avoid the weight of this extra tent, you’re welcome to share mine. It’s plenty big, and I promise to be a gentleman.”

He
so
didn’t need to promise that. I suppressed a grin. Easy to fantasize when you knew nothing would come of it.

I hefted the tent. A good five pounds in my uneducated estimation. I looked at Quinn. “Do you mind if I sleep in your tent?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did.”

“Then let’s leave it. I think I already have enough to carry.”

“Are your boots completely broken in?” he asked as I sat on the tailgate and tightened the laces.

“I’ve been wearing them around the house almost every day for the last couple of weeks, plus I wore them when we went hiking with Grace. They haven’t rubbed or given me blisters.”

“Good.”

He watched as I weaved my hair into a tight French braid to keep it out of my face. Then I scooted off the tailgate, and he slammed it shut.

“Ready for your pack?” he asked.

No.
But I nodded and turned around so he could help me into it. Heavy, but doable. “Turn around,” he said. I did, and he adjusted a couple of the straps, making it much more comfortable. All the while, I was very aware of his fingers inches from my breasts. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Good,” I managed, trying not to breathe hard.

He slid liter-sized bottles of water into the pockets on either side of my bag. “I have a filter, so drink as much as you need to. We can always make more.”

Finally, Quinn slid into his own pack, and we were off. He stopped by a small wooden box on a post, opened the door on the front, and signed both of our names to the trail sheet. Was it sappy to admit I liked the way they looked together?

“So how far are we hiking today?” I asked, having been unwilling to do so before we were actually underway.

“It’s about three miles.”

“That’s more than I walk at the gym every day.” My heart fluttered in panic. And there wasn’t a freakin’ heavy pack on my back at the gym.

“I have no doubts that you can handle it. We have all day to do it and can stop as many times as you need.”

The blush fell off the rose about a quarter of a mile in as we began our first incline. Laboring under the weight of the pack changed my center of gravity and made it difficult to maneuver.

Already, I was sweating like a rented mule. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not whining.

Quinn, on the other hand, was in his element. “Hey, look at this bug, will you?” he called out from behind me on a narrow part of the trail.

I turned around to look at the beetle with its hologram-like rainbow texture. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, it was a rock. “Quartz,” he said, offering it to me for inspection. Partially translucent milky white stone lay between layers of clearer light pink.

We stopped to cross a stream, and Quinn went first to pick the best path across so not to get our boots wet. He stopped in the middle to look down. “Look here as you’re crossing… Crayfish.”

I made it across the water without incident, taking a moment to note the small lobster-like critters hanging out near the boulders I stepped on.

Somewhere along the line, his enthusiasm rubbed off. A quarter of a mile later, it was me grabbing his warm and slightly sweaty bicep and pointing. “Look, deer,” I whispered.

We watched a doe and her fawn drink from the river in the gorge below us. Mama raised her head and sniffed, then she and baby disappeared back into the dense forest on the other side of the stream.

It was one of those perfect days, with the absolute perfect person doing the perfect thing for the moment, and it was so...
perfect
that I wished it would never end.

Quinn started singing old campfire songs which, I had to admit, was dorky in the extreme. But fun, too. He had an amazingly clear, deep bass voice, and the sound of it caused chills to race up and down my arms.

We stopped once to rest, dropping our packs at the base of a tree and sitting on a log. He handed me half an energy bar then took big, manly bites out of the other half.

“So how do you think it’s going so far?” he asked.

I looked up into his face, mesmerized by the fleck of chocolate that had flaked off his bar to land and melt on the corner of his mouth.

I so wanted to lick it off.

I wet my lips with my tongue and caught Quinn following the motion with his eyes.

Time literally stopped.

I’d heard people use that expression before and had always laughed at the cheesiness of it. But seriously, for a long moment, time measured in heartbeats, and the insistent voice in my head encouraged me to lean forward.

Quinn’s eyes returned to mine. Neither of us said much of anything, but there was something dark and sensual in his eyes that I could not ignore. I hoped he would be equally unable to ignore the answering look in mine.

I finally responded, having nearly forgotten the question. “It’s going a lot better than I thought it would.”

“You’re doing great.” He helped me down off the log, his hands lingering on mine longer than was necessary or, for that matter, even proper.

My steps seemed lighter as we continued on, but I couldn’t get that look between us out of my mind, nor could I forget we’d be sharing a tent in a few short hours.

Despite the rough terrain, Katherine did a remarkable job keeping up. But I knew she worried about holding me back. When we stopped for our next break, she confronted me about it.

“You must hate going at my speed,” she said as I helped her off with her pack then set it next to mine against a tree.

I stopped beside her. “I’m enjoying hanging out with you. It wouldn’t matter if we were going at a snail’s pace. It would be more fun than hiking way up there on my own.” I motioned to some hypothetical spot well ahead of us.