She held my gaze. “I have an IUD. I’m clean.”
“Me too. Clean. Nothing since my last test.”
A tiny smile threatened. “That was very practical.”
“I’m good at practical.”
“Then be practical about the part where I’m sticky, overheated, and running out of patience.”
I looked at the fudge on her wrist, the marshmallow on my knuckle, the open ice bag beside the tote, and the creek path dark beyond the cabin.
“Creek,” I said.
Sunny’s eyes lit. “That is either the best idea you’ve had or the coldest.”
“Both.”
“Grab a blanket, mountain man.”
I did.
The path to the creek dropped behind the cabin through lodgepole pine and brush thick enough to hide the whole world. I carried the blanket and towel under one arm, the ice bag in my free hand. Sunny walked ahead of me, flat sandals careful on the packed dirt, one hand skimming the brush when the trail narrowed.
“Private?” she asked.
“My land. No public trail. Camp’s nowhere near here. Crew’s gone.”
“Excellent. I’d hate to traumatize a hiker with my emotional range.”
“Your s’more already tried.”
“My s’more was vulnerable.”
The creek appeared between boulders, silver-dark in the last light. It ran cold and clear over stone, with a smooth bank tucked behind a stand of brush where the ground leveled out. I’d come down here after hard days, after calls, after any shift when my head needed water and rock more than words.
I’d never brought anyone here.
Sunny stepped to the water’s edge and slipped out of her sandals. “If I fall in, you’re not allowed to say one word about footwear.”
“I won’t.”
“You’ll think it.”
“Probably.”
“Honesty. Suspicious, but refreshing.”
She dipped one foot into the creek and sucked in a breath. “Holy tiny snow demons.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Sunny pointed at me. “That wasn’t supportive.”
“It was accurate.”
“It’s freezing.”
“That’s the point.”
