Читать книгу Forever Flint - Barbara Boswell, Barbara Boswell - Страница 9

Three

By the time the Paradise Outdoors expedition arrived in Custer State Park the next afternoon, Ashlinn was uncomfortably aware that she had more in common with Presley Oakes Jr. than with her fellow campers. At least the boy publisher enjoyed city life and had never escaped from a war zone or attempted to climb Mount Everest.

Jack Hall, Etienne Bouvier, Rico Figueroa and Koji Yagano had done all that and much more. They were professional out-doorsmen and adventurers, each with a long resume of successful feats and scrapes with death. In addition to writing about their escapades for their respective magazines, all four were proud contributors to The Most Dangerous Places on the Globe, a book Ashlinn had never heard of.

Flint had.

“The title is self-explanatory. It’s a kind of guidebook for the most dangerous places in the world, destinations that aren’t recommended for travelers,” he explained as he drove the party in an enormous rented van to the park in southwestern South Dakota. Ashlinn was sitting beside him in the front while the other four men sprawled two to a bench in back.

“They are places that definitely aren’t recommended for tourists,” added Jack Hall, his tone and expression making it clear that he considered tourists a threat to the quality of life, much the same as flesh-eating bacteria.

“Your state department forbids you to go to many of the places we’ve been,” Rico Figueroa added enthusiastically.

“Then why go? And why bother with a guidebook for unsafe places?” Ashlinn asked what she considered to be the most obvious questions.

She heard a groan. An impatient sigh. And then silence descended.

Ashlinn chewed her lower lip. She’d done it again; it seemed she had a talent for exasperating this crew.

She cast a glance at Flint. At least he didn’t look exasperated.

Flint caught her eye. “Maybe ‘guidebook’ isn’t the best choice of word. Think reference book instead.”

He’d responded politely to all her questions and remarks when the others wouldn’t, Ashlinn mused gratefully.

“The book is more of an anthology,” Flint continued, filling the silence. “The various contributors write about what they saw and did in dangerous cities and countries all over the world. There are plenty of armchair adventurers who enjoy experiencing danger vicariously.”

“You’re in travel publishing, Ashley, you know that,” chided Jack Hall.

“It’s Ashlinn,” she corrected, not for the first time. “And Tour & Travel features articles on places like Sausalito and Williamsburg. Our readers want amenities and charm, not threats to their lives.”

“But your new publisher is set on changing that,” Flint reminded her.

As if she needed reminding! Ashlinn sighed.

“Custer State Park probably is less dangerous than crossing any street in Paris, but our stay there will be a useful respite,” said Etienne Bouvier. “With no distractions in the evenings, I plan to polish my article on my encounter with headhunters.”

“Before you ask,” Flint murmured under his breath to Ashlinn “He’s not referring to an executive search agency.”

She knew he was kidding and chuckled quietly. “I think they’d throw me out of the van if I asked, even as a joke,” she whispered back. “They take their adventures very seriously.”

“The next two weeks are the equivalent of lying in the sun on a beach, something I rarely do,” piped up Rico. “But I intend to completely relax on this trip.”

“We’re scheduled to rock climb, mountain bike and climb a peak, among other activities,” Ashlinn pointed out, reciting their proposed itinerary from the list she’d been given that morning. “None of that can be termed relaxing.”

For her, just thinking of what lay ahead was fatigue-inducing. The possibility of relaxation during the next two weeks seemed as remote as their campsite.

“I think that climbing Harney Peak, which is 7,242 feet high, might qualify as relaxation compared to the twenty-thousand-some feet they scaled on Everest,” observed Flint.

“I guess when you put it like that . .” Ashlinn’s voice trailed off.

The thought of attempting to climb over seven thousand feet still did not strike her as child’s play. She pictured rocks and falls and broken bones.

“Glad you’re along to translate for the lady, Flint,” Koji said gratefully.

Ashlinn knew he wasn’t referring to language difficulties, because all the men spoke English fluently. Nor was the lack of understanding between her and her fellow campers the result of typical male/female differences so well-documented in the pop psychology books proliferating on bookstore shelves.

No, she and the four international risk takers were like creatures from separate universes with absolutely no common frame of reference. She found their bold mindset, their casual bravado, so incomprehensible that even small talk posed a difficulty. Since they’d met this morning, she’d invariably said the wrong thing, irking or boring the four happy wanderers.

But as Koji had mentioned, Flint was proving valuable as a translator cum peacemaker, interpreting her to the men and vice versa. Though he hadn’t risked his life on seven continents, somehow, fortunately, he was able to relate both to those who had and to Ashlinn.

“Since she’s offering no fringe benefits, we’re grateful you don’t mind baby-sitting her, Flint,” said Jack Hall in a relieved better-you-than-me tone.

Ashlinn couldn’t let that remark go unchallenged. “That crack about fringe benefits is too low to dignify with a rejoinder, and I don’t need a baby-sitter!”

The four men laughed, as if she’d told a hilarious joke.

“You need a baby-sitter a helluva lot more than we need a guide, chica,” said Rico. “The four of us have had more than enough experience to be on our own in a state park in South Dakota. You can’t say the same.”

More hearty macho laughter. More stories of being held at gunpoint, of drinking snake blood, of bribing their way in and out of the hellholes of the world while loving every minute of it.

Ashlinn leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, pretending she’d nodded off to sleep. She had already had enough interaction with her campmates. Two whole weeks with them loomed like an eternity.

It seemed ironic that last night, she had been apprehensive about spending the next two weeks with Flint. Who could have guessed that today she would consider him the closest thing she had to a friend and ally?

But it was true. Flint was courteous, treating her as an equal member of the expedition, not an unwelcome pest. The same couldn’t be said for the others in the group.

Ashlinn’s mind drifted back to her meeting with them this morning, after her predawn trip to Paradise Outdoors’ company headquarters with Flint. To the fateful moment when she’d informed the men that she not only wasn’t a good cook, but her campfire cuisine was even worse than her everyday efforts.

“But cooking is what women are created for!” Rico exclaimed, shocked.

Ashlinn had felt obliged to offer a rebuttal. What woman wouldn’t? But Flint had caught her hand, pulling her out of earshot of the group.

“For the sake of congeniality, I recommend just letting that one pass,” he suggested quietly.

“But he just relegated women back to the Stone Age!” objected Ashlinn. “On behalf of women everywhere, I. . .”

“You can talk till you’re hoarse, but you’ll never convince him otherwise. Anyway, the men agreed to do the cooking for themselves,” Flint pointed out. “You won’t be slaving over a hot campfire, except to make your own meals. Can’t you view that as a victory on behalf of women everywhere?”

“I guess so.” Ashlinn was very aware that Flint was still holding her hand. A small shiver rippled along her spine.

“Cooking isn’t the only thing women are good for,” Bouvier had interjected, his eyes raking Ashlinn’s trim blue-jeaned figure. “Don’t forget about sex.”

“As if we ever could!” Jack Hall had laughed rakishly “Maybe you’ll share your tent with one of us, lovely lady? Or all of us, if the gods are smiling”

Ashlinn didn’t know if he was kidding or not but decided to set the record straight right from the beginning.

“The gods aren’t smiling,” she said succinctly. “So don’t bother going through the motions, because you’ve already struck out.”

Only Bouvier didn’t get her baseball metaphor. “I have a can of Mace,” Ashlinn clarified her position for him. “If you try anything with me, I’ll use it on you.”

“So you’ve already made your choice, then?” Koji’s eyes were fixed on her hand linked with Flint’s.

Her face flaming, Ashlinn dropped Flint’s hand. “My choice is to be left alone!”

Just in case they decided to take her literally and abandon her in the wild, she added, “I expect to be treated exactly like any other member of this group. As if I were Asher Carey.”

Rico said something in a language she didn’t recognize and they all laughed. Except Flint. He looked as uncomprehending as she did.

“An old Sinhalese saying,” Koji explained. “Remind us to translate later, Flint.”

Ashlinn guessed the remark was outrageously sexist and dealt with a woman’s place in the most insulting terms. Well, she didn’t want to be here any more than they wanted her along. It was just too bad she was so totally outnumbered. If only Flint’s half sisters hadn’t been so impossible.

As the four men swapped tales of the smugglers’ bazaar in Peshawar, Ashlinn fell into a light fitful sleep that lasted until the van came to a stop.

She opened her eyes to see an enormous buffalo standing a few feet away, staring straight at her. She gasped.

“Bison,” Flint laid his hand on her arm. “Don’t be alarmed. There are about fourteen hundred of them roaming in the park. We’re on Wildlife Loop Road, and they often stop traffic along this stretch.”

Several cars were stopped behind them on the narrow road as a few bison meandered across. More animals were grazing on either side of the road.

“I’ve never seen a live buffalo before,” she said, awed. “Only stuffed ones in museums.”

“I’d like to ride one of those,” enthused Jack Hall. “I’ve ridden camels in Saudi and elephants in India.”

“Haven’t we all?” Figueroa sounded bored.

Ashlinn and Flint caught each other’s eye. “Camels and elephants are so passé,” she imitated Figueroa’s jaded tone. “Riding bison is the latest thrill.”

Flint swallowed a smile. “Riding bison is forbidden,” he informed his charges. “They can be dangerously unpredictable and bad-tempered.”

“With this group, you’re better off saying bison are so tame that even grandmothers find them dull to ride,” Ashlinn murmured. “Nothing seems to excite our fellow campers more than the possibility of breaking every bone in their bodies.”

Flint laughed.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Bouvier.

“Ashlinn just made a—um—a buffalo joke,” Flint said, as they exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

“Your ancestors worshipped the buffalo, didn’t they, Flint?” Koji asked respectfully. “I’ve read a lot about the American Wild West.”

Since Flint had made it clear he was a modern-day workaholic who preferred his office to anywhere else, the Wild West reference struck Ashlinn as particularly absurd. She couldn’t stifle another outburst of laughter.

“Now you’re laughing at Flint’s native culture?” Bouvier’s voice was icy with disapproval.

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I can’t picture Flint in the Old West era.”

“I can,” said Koji, and launched into an impassioned discourse about the softness of contemporary society and its toxic effect on men. Fortunately, according to him, the five men in the van were immune to this modern-day plague and remained true men’s men; living, breathing tributes to the hardy male wamors who preceded them.

“I wasn’t accusing you of being a couch potato,” Ashlinn murmured to Flint. “Honest.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice equally low.

Not that it mattered, because the four warriors in the back weren’t interested in the conversation going on in the front. They’d already launched into an eager discussion about the challenges of hunting for game in assorted trouble spots.

“Just for the record, I prefer contemporary times,” continued Flint. “I’ll take one of the Paradise Outdoors water-tight tents instead of a lean-to made out of sticks and mud any day.”

“A cell phone over smoke signals,” added Ashlinn.

Flint nodded. “A pair of Paradise Outdoors woodsman boots with Durotech socks rather than moccasins.”

“Paradise Outdoors power-zoom binoculars instead of squinting.” She shrugged apologetically. “I’m running out of examples, that was the best I could do.”

“There are countless examples,” enthused Flint. “Let’s start with this GPS automotive navigator sold by Paradise Outdoors.”

He pointed to the electronic geopositional satellite unit mounted on the dash. “The unit has built-in maps of highways and major metro streets in the United States and most of Canada and Mexico, and also includes rivers and lakes. It continuously tracks and uses up to twelve satellites for precise operations.”

Ashlinn was impressed. “That makes a compass seem obsolete”

“Although Paradise Outdoors does sell a wide range of fine compasses,” Flint added quickly, never one to disparage any merchandise sold by his company.

“Maybe for nostalgia buffs?” teased Ashlinn. “How’s that for a marketing hook?”

“Pretty bad, but I’ve heard worse,” said Flint.

“Surely not from Skatm’ Sam Carmody, marketing genius?” Ashlinn suggested

“Why are you so down on Carmody?” Flint asked. “Actually, I’d like to bring him into the family, convince him to try his luck with Eva ”

“Sam Carmody and Eva?” quizzed Ashlinn

Flint nodded his approval. “Carmody and Eva would be good together The company would get to keep a stellar marketing talent in the family and—er—”

“Yes, ‘and—er,’” Ashlinn mocked. “Paradise Outdoors would get to keep Carmody, but how would Eva benefit? What does she get out of such a setup?”

“Eva has stock in the company. What’s good for Paradise Outdoors is good for every member of the Paradise family?” suggested Flint. “A fairly weak argument, I’ll grant you that.”

“I should mention that family fix-ups and all the expectations that go with them usually bomb big time,” Ashlinn warned. “I’m speaking from personal experience.”

“Your family has tried to fix you up a lot?” Flint realized he was scowling. His gut began to churn when he also realized how much he absolutely hated the thought of her dating a lot of different men, family setups or not. He hated the thought of her dating any man.

His breath caught in his throat. Good Lord, he couldn’t be jealous, not him. Flint Paradise had never succumbed to sexual jealousy in his life. And to feel jealous of the unnamed, unknown men who’d been set up with Ashlinn. . .that was foolish beyond reason. And he was infinitely reasonable, never foolish. He could only be relieved that she appeared to be completely unaware of his inner turmoil.

“Finding a match for me was turning into a regular Carey family project,” Ashlinn replied, and heaved a groan. “But I finally had to lay down the law and tell them no more match-making, especially after the last guy.”

“Bad?” asked Flint. He knew he sounded too hopeful and hoped she hadn’t noticed.

She hadn’t.

“Bad doesn’t begin to cover it. Try ‘unendurable’ I have my sister Courtney to thank for inflicting her brother-in-law Nathaniel Tremaine on me.” Ashlinn shuddered at the memory.