Michael glanced down at the tarp, taking in the wicked-looking fixed blade before arching an eyebrow at her.
“We’ve got everything we need,” she reassured him.
“Need, yes, but Iwantone of those.” He hit her with a cocky grin that made her concentration falter for a fraction of a second. Long enough for her to lose track and let her gaze fix on his mouth.
She gave a massive eye roll in an attempt to pull her attention away, but the damage was done. He’d seen her looking, and his grin spread, his face lighting up with a mixture of pleasure and satisfaction. If she were a smart woman, she’d rethink this whole going into the woods for two days with a man who’d proved to be this much of a distraction. If she were a smart woman, she would have rethought this whole thing before she agreed to hike fifty miles into the Blue Ridge.
Too late for any of that, she thought as she unpacked her supplies, laying her well-worn and much-loved gear next to Michael’s brand-new stuff. Even the image of that tightened something inside her. He spent a fortune getting ready for this thing. He’d made the argument it was a business expense, but she knew it was more than that. She and Gabe could have let him borrow everything he needed. Gabe and Emerson’s company probably had stacks of gear. The best stuff, she imagined, glancing at her brother’s militant army pile.
Michael bought his own gear because he said he planned to spend more time in the woods. He hadn’t said with her, but he hadn’t needed to. She could see in his expression that’s what he meant.
She double-checked his gear and hers. With it all spread out on the tarp, it didn’t look like enough stuff to take for two nights in the wilderness, but the key was striking the balance between making sure they had everything they needed and making sure they weren’t so weighted down they couldn’t make decent time. Then there were the things the organizers put on the must-have list, like maps, compasses, and first-aid kits, but all of those were things she would have packed anyway.
The officials made their way down the line of participants, asking questions and making marks on their clipboards. Michael stepped closer to her, close enough for the back of his hand to brush against hers. Ignoring the jolt of pleasure that small bit of contact gave her, she answered the officials’ questions and tried to concentrate on the instructions. Thankfully everything was written out on the paper they gave them, including the coordinates of their specific extraction point. She didn’t trust herself to remember anything with her attention so divided.
Moments later, it was time to go. Becca was one of the few spectators to show up to see them off. The ATV would take each team to a separate starting point, so there wasn’t much for the people not competing to see.
“Don’t miss a chance to have some fun,” whispered Becca as Amanda hugged her good-bye.
“Easy for you to say. You’re sleeping in your own bed tonight.”
Her sister pitched her voice low enough that only she could hear. “You’re sleeping in the woods with him. Alone.” She tipped her head in Michael’s direction and Amanda felt her face heat.
Fantastic.Blushing wouldn’t give away what she was thinking.
“You’ve got an opportunity,” said Becca. “For God’s sake, don’t waste it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Dean,” she called over Amanda’s shoulder.
“Is there anything on that list?” asked Michael with a wink.
“Nothing worth doing. See you Sunday,” said Becca, giving them a quick wave before climbing back into her warm car and heading off somewhere for what was sure to be a better meal than anything in Amanda’s future.
Michael grabbed both their packs and headed toward their ride, leaving her no choice but to follow.
––––––––
MICHAEL SLUNG HIS loaded pack over his shoulders, taking a minute to tighten the chest strap the way Amanda had shown him. He wasn’t sure a little strap would make that big of a difference, but he also wasn’t about to second-guess her, not when she clearly knew much more about what they were doing than he did.
Each pair—two from each team, sixteen couples in all—got dropped off at a different point on the back country trail. They had until Sunday at noon to make their way to the extraction point fifty miles away, collecting different items from caches along the route. Points were awarded based on accuracy—how many objects they collected—and speed. The only saving grace as far as he could see was that they weren’t allowed to travel from an hour after sunset to an hour before sunrise.
Otherwise, he was certain the weekend warriors would race through the night and inevitably some of them off the cliffs. He had no intention of being one of them. His outdoor camping experience might be limited to a brief stint as a Cub Scout, but he had a strong self-preservation streak, and he’d do anything he had to do to keep Amanda safe. Not that it looked like she needed him. She waited just long enough to be sure he’d fastened his pack and then she’d set off up the trail, surefooted and clearly comfortable in her environment.
He followed behind her, trying to pay more attention to the scenery around them than to the way her ass looked in the black yoga pants she wore. Whoever invented the stretchy garment clearly had their priorities in the right place.
The terrain at the start wasn’t much more difficult than walking up a gentle hill at the park. It took a moment or two to get used to the weight of the pack on his back but it didn’t take long before he wasn’t aware of it any more. The boots were another issue entirely. Amanda made sure he’d taken plenty of time to break them in and he was very grateful. Blisters on this trip would suck. But for a guy who spent most of his time in athletic trainers, getting used to the tight fit of the boot around his ankle took some doing.
After a while, the gentle monotony of falling into step behind Amanda lulled him into a comfortable, almost mindless kind of place where he didn’t have to think or reason or do anything other than walk. He didn’t think either of them made the conscious decision not to talk; he knew he hadn’t. But the first couple of times he thought of witty things to say, the quiet of the woods made him pause for a second, and they just didn’t seem important enough to risk breaking the silence for.
Except it wasn’t silence—not exactly. He heard birds and the wind through the trees and the shuffle of their boots in the leaf litter on the trail. It wasn’t awkward the way it might have been if they were sitting across from each other at a dinner table. Instead, it felt more significant. By the time Amanda stopped alongside a downed tree to take a water break, he was completely sold on the idea of spending more time outside, more time hiking through the woods with her. Of course, his attitude might change when they were on mile forty-five instead of mile two, but for now, he felt wildly optimistic.
“It looks like we have about another two miles before we get to the first cache,” she said as he dropped his pack on the ground beside hers.
As soon as the weight was off his back, he felt a thousand times lighter and he had a feeling it would get a bit harder every time he put the pack back on.
“Right here.” She held the map out for him to see, tracing the route they needed to take with her slender finger.
He wanted to pay attention to what she was saying, but there was something about being there with her, seeing the gentle curve of her neck as she bent over the map, feeling the weight of the silence that somehow managed to bind them together, that made it impossible for him to concentrate on anything other than her. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and their gazes caught. Heat flashed between them, desire and something hotter, more molten. In an instant, his priorities reordered themselves and before he made the conscious decision, he pulled Amanda into his arms, fitting her body against his.
Her breath went out on a sigh, and it was the easiest thing in the world to bend his head and claim her parted lips. She tasted sweet, like hot tea and peppermint gum, and in that one single moment, he was lost. He kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe because in ways he couldn’t put a name to yet, it was the truth. He let everything he’d been feeling for the past week, all of his frustrations and all of his desire, wash over them in a flood.
