But she didn’t forget that they were being hunted by mad movie fanatics. Neither, evidently, did he. They broke off simultaneously, then packed their stuff into the boat. After a check of the leaf compass, they set off north, or at least approximately north.
The swamp was especially noisy in the early morning. For a while the frogs were so loud they couldn’t even talk, and once the frogs shut up, the birds began. But she didn’t mind. She was inexplicably, absurdly, ridiculously happy. Who would have ever thought she’d feel so good being chased through a swamp by armed lunatics, in ruined clothes and swamp water-washed hair, with none other than her hated rival Carter Howe?
She mentally crossed off the ‘hated.’ Fen had a lot of feelings about him, but hatred was no longer one of them.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
“Much better.” There was an odd note in Carter’s voice, and she twisted around to get a better look at him. He looked as deeply conflicted as he’d sounded.
“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to preserve your Manly Man credentials?”
He shook his head and gave her a smile that looked sincere. “I’m sure. See, I shook my head and it didn’t make me feel like it might fall off.”
“Always a good thing.” Fen offered him a pawpaw. “Can you manage a dad while you’re paddling?”
He grinned. “No, thanks. I’d either get it all over my face or drop it overboard and feed the batrachian horrors. You?”
“Same,” Fen admitted. “Let’s keep on now and take a lunch break later.”
“Sounds good.”
They paddled on together, talking easily about many things: movies that were overrated and movies that were rated exactly as highly as they deserved, how they first got interested in science and technology, and which set of Star Wars movies was the best. They played Twenty Questions, debated over which of TicTech’s products were the most poorly designed and which of Eldon McManus’s ideas were the most harebrained, and fantasized over meals they’d eat once they escaped the swamp and its limited menu of cattail spikes and pawpaws.
They did not discuss the kiss or what was happening between them, for which Fen was guiltily grateful. She had no idea what their relationship was becoming, whether it would last, or even whether they’d kiss again, but she had a strong feeling that nothing would ruin it faster than an in-depth feelings discussion before an audience of bullfrogs.
During their quick lunch stop, Carter constructed a fishing line to trail behind the boat. When the sun touched the horizon and the light turned to deep gold, they found a non-floating island with plenty of shrubbery to hide both the boat and their fire, docked the boat, and pulled up the line.
“A fish!” Fen exclaimed.
He held it up as if he was posing for a photo, then took out his multitool and began to clean and filet it. Fen watched, impressed. She’d have expected him to be squeamish about it, but he’d obviously done it before.
“Did you ever work as a chef?”
He glanced from his careful work deboning the fish. “My family was into hunting and fishing. It was…” He came to one of those abrupt halts that tended to happen, she’d noticed, when he talked about his own life. He never did that stop-and-backtrack when he was discussing, say, movies. “Well, I learned some things.”
What are you leaving out, Carter?Fen wondered.How could you go hunting and fishing with your family, enough to clean a fish like an expert, and still be less comfortable in nature than a former Girl Scout?
But she didn’t press him. She was still overflowing with goodwill and sexual chemistry, not to mention the promise of a fish dinner and the hope of making out afterward. No need to spoil a good thing with unwanted prying into his personal life.
She went foraging while he figured out how to cook the fish, and returned with watercress and a handful of elderberries.
“I saw some mushrooms too, but I was only ninety-eight percent sure they weren’t poisonous,” she explained, showing him her bounty. “So I left them.”
“Good call,” he said, turning the fish over on a handmade rock oven. “Though I guess we could’ve tested them on the bullfrogs.”
The fish came out hot and flaky. Even without salt or seasonings, it was one of the most delicious meals she’d ever had. There was enough for both of them, especially when supplemented with the watercress as a side salad. They ate the tart elderberries for dessert.
“If I hadbeen a chef, I’d have charged a lot for that meal,” said Carter contentedly.
“And I’d have paid it.” Fen warmed her hands over the crackling fire. The sexual chemistry between them was crackling as well. Now that he’d clearly recovered from his headache and they were both well-fed, it was time for some wild and passionate swamp sex. “Now that we’ve had such an expensive dinner, I don’t see the point in paying the restaurant for after-dinner drinks. I’ve got a nice bottle of whiskey at home. Want to come over and have a drink at my place?”
For an instant, he looked like there was nothing he wanted more. He started to lean in, then jerked back with an expression that told her there would not be any swamp sex that night. “Um… Look, Fen…”
She was hurt. Wasn’t she good enough for him? Did he suddenly notice that she smelled like swamp water? Then she told herself that there were plenty of reasons he could have for wanting to take it slow. She was an adult, not a teenager, and she was going to act like one. “Or we could hold off until we’re out of the swamp. I get it if you’d rather take a rain check until we’re not being chased by lunatics through schools of bullfrogs.”
She’d hoped he’d smile and agree. Instead, he edged away from her. Judging by the look on his face, she might have been a bullfrog herself.
“I don’t think that’s a good—” He broke off and clutched at his head.
