Читать книгу A Family Under The Stars - Christy Jeffries - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Here’s the deal,” her guide said less than ten minutes later, as he walked toward Charlotte with his fishing pole resting on one of his broad shoulders. She had to command the air to exhale from her lungs.

Alex glanced down at her dirt-creased fingers, the ones that had been digging up wild ginger roots in the fertile soil, and, embarrassed, Charlotte wiped them clean on her pants. “This rain isn’t going to hold off for much longer. I know you’d prefer to make things look as realistic as possible, but I think it’d be safer for us to shove off and try to get a few more miles downriver before we do much more.”

“What about the fish?” She swallowed, trying not to look directly into the bulging dead eyes of the trout he’d easily caught.

“We can cook it when we stop next. Back at the put-in, I went over the map with my grandfather and gave him an itinerary of sorts, just in case things get dicey and someone needs to come looking for us.”

Dicey? That didn’t sound good. Blood rushed to her feet, giving Charlotte the urge to put these too-snug hiking boots in motion and run back to Sugar Falls. Her children had already lost one parent, so to speak, and Charlotte didn’t believe in taking any unnecessary risks. She flexed her toes, telling herself she really did need a few more pictures. Besides, the sun had just broken through, and while she was no weather expert, it surely would hold off a little longer.

“There’s an inlet farther down with a nice clearing to set up a pretend camp,” he added. “And it usually has decent phone reception.”

Phone reception was all the convincing she needed.

“You’re the expert,” she said. And realized she meant it. For someone who’d practically raised herself—if one didn’t count the revolving door of au pairs and boarding school staff—it was a foreign feeling for Charlotte to willingly give over control of her environment to another person. Yet, so far, she’d felt reasonably safe in Alex Russell’s capable hands. Well, not in his hands, literally, but more than a few times, she’d looked at his strong, tanned fingers maneuvering the oar and wondered how many women on whitewater rafting vacations had volunteered to ride next to him.

“Just let me make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.” She pulled her laminated list of supplies out of the small pack strapped around her waist and ran her finger down each item.

“I thought we went over that thing several times already, back when we loaded the raft.” They had, and he’d been extremely patient the first time she’d reviewed it. Now, though, she was getting the feeling he didn’t appreciate her ability to always be prepared. Probably because he was rolling his head back the way Audrey did whenever Charlotte told the five-year-old to pick up her My Little Ponies before she could have dessert.

“We did, but I don’t like to leave anything to chance.”

“Well, it’s not like we could simply row ourselves to the nearest department store in the event you forgot something. Besides, you haven’t taken anything out yet, so it should all still be there, right?” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, the gesture similar to his grandfather’s earlier, and Charlotte fought the impulse to reach up and straighten his collar.

“Hopefully.” She smiled, but didn’t apologize for her organizational skills. It only took a moment before she nodded and walked quickly toward the raft, getting her expensive new boots soaking wet in the process, since the filled raft was too heavy to pull entirely onto shore and had stayed shin-deep in the water. She had one leg over the side, but her sore arms and bulky life vest made it somewhat difficult to heave herself back in. She froze the second she felt his hands on her hips and suddenly her mistake in footwear wasn’t the only thing she felt foolish about.

“Here you go,” he said, lifting her up as if she was as light as one of her daughter’s plastic toy ponies. Because she wasn’t expecting the help—or her body’s response to his touch—her knee jerked, causing her leg to slip on the outer edge of the bow. Without dropping her, Alex shifted his hands so they were cupping her rear end and gave her a final boost inside.

When she finally scrambled onto her seat, Charlotte didn’t know what was warmer, the intimate places he’d touched her or her blushing cheeks. After Mitchell’s betrayal, she’d vowed to never fall so easily for a man again. But there was something about the fresh air and the natural isolation of the land around them that must be drawing her to the reserved river guide. The self-discovery book she’d read about camping suggested that peoples’ hormones were heightened and more animalistic when they were out in nature. Or maybe it was his rugged attractiveness combined with his quiet confidence that filled Charlotte’s mind with the kind of lustful thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

He secured the fishing line to the inside of the raft and Charlotte tamped down the shudder that threatened to erupt every time she caught sight of the lifeless, glassy fish eyes of his catch. Even though she was familiar with prepping all kinds of food, she normally didn’t have to sit right next to something that had been alive just a few minutes before. To take her mind off the dead trout, the man’s use of the word dicey, and the way his hands had perfectly formed around her curves, she decided she’d ask some background questions for her article as he took the inflated bench behind her and they paddled toward the middle of the river.

“Have you had a lot of women, Mr. Russell?” Charlotte’s oar paused midstroke and she sucked in her breath, wishing she could pull the words back in with it. “I mean, are you used to women being with you?”

Oh, no. That hadn’t sounded any better. Thankfully, she wasn’t facing him and he couldn’t see the embarrassment heating up her face.

“In what sense?” Captain Hot Hands back there probably had plenty of urban females flocking to the wilderness looking for a little more adventure than what was offered in the brochure.

“You know what? That came out wrong. I was trying to ask about your clientele. I’m definitely better at answering interview questions than asking them.”

“But you’re a reporter, right?”

“Not really. I’m more of a lifestyle expert.”

“What the hell is a lifestyle expert?”

“I’m not exactly sure, to be honest with you. I started out posting some recipes in my sorority’s alumni newsletter—”

“Sorority?”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to sound too defensive. Charlotte wasn’t oblivious to people’s skepticism and mocking tones when it came to things like Greek life or beauty pageants. But she also wouldn’t apologize for her past or for the connections she’d made in that world, a world that had welcomed a very lonely girl when everyone else had shut her out.

“So,” she continued, “I started getting follow-up questions and comments asking about ingredients, which turned into questions about household tips, which morphed into interior decorating. Pretty soon, I had my own blog about home entertainment and Fine Tastes contacted me about writing for them. But most of what I do is really just creating recipes and coming up with ideas for room décor and throwing parties. That sort of thing.”

“So you’re more about presentation than about substance?”

She jerked back her head and frowned at him. “That’s probably the judgmental way of looking at it.”

“Sorry,” he said, his smirk back. “Nobody’s ever called me judgmental before.”

Charlotte didn’t know if she necessarily believed that. She’d seen the skepticism in his eyes—before he’d quickly covered them up with his sunglasses—when they’d been talking about her sixth grade canoeing skills back at the put-in location. She’d also noticed the way he’d frowned at the brand new water-resistant performance pants she’d bought especially for this trip before suggesting that they reschedule. Sure, the man had been very patient with her so far today when instructing her how to paddle and how to angle her body when they’d hit their first set of rapids. But he also reeked of no-nonsense skill and leadership.

Well, technically, he reeked of aloe-scented sunscreen and cool water and something much more manly and musky and way too arousing. She purposely looked at the dead trout as a way to refocus her attention.

“Has anyone ever called you evasive?” she couldn’t help the frustrated tone. “It takes forever to get an answer out of you.”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the original question?” She didn’t have to turn toward him to hear the grin underlying his words. He was teasing her about her awkward query and she sort of deserved it.

“Do you get many female customers?” Okay, so that wasn’t what she’d really wanted to know, but it was the only way she could save face and not sound like she’d been speculating on his relationship status.

“Of course. In fact, we had our first bachelorette party last August. My dad led that group and said it was one of the wilder and more entertaining trips he’d ever been on. This time of year, though, it’s mostly the adrenaline junkies and the experienced water enthusiasts who want to be out on the river. Later in the summer, when the current slows, we get a lot of families—usually on the lower rapids.”

She seized on the word families because Charlotte would feel a lot less anxious about the narrow canyon ahead if she could imagine a raft full of boys and girls playing and frolicking in this same river. “So it’s safe for children?”

“Absolutely, as long as they understand the risks and their parents keep an eye on them. I heard you mention child care earlier. I’m assuming you have kids?”

“Yes. Elsa is six and Audrey is five. They’re currently with my friend Kylie Gregson back in Sugar Falls. Your grandfather said he knew her and would stop by and let them know that we’d be back tonight.”

She felt the slight movement of him shifting in his seat behind her. “Pull your oar in for a second,” he commanded, his tone not as playful as it had been a few moments earlier. “I’m going to try to move to the center of the channel.”

She struggled with the conflicting desire to follow directions but to also be of assistance. “Shouldn’t I help paddle us in that direction?”

“Nah, the current is strong enough that I just need to steer us that way. But if you don’t mind, the line is slipping out of our friend there, and he needs to be resecured before we hit the rapids and your glamping meal bounces out.”

“Sorry, Trouty,” she said as she tightened the clear string through the dead fish’s gills, causing its mouth to gulp open wider. But just then the raft dipped and Charlotte barely looked up in time to see a fallen tree trunk caught between two boulders.

“High side,” Alex shouted and Charlotte froze. What did that command mean? “Jump to the other side,” he yelled again.

But she must’ve been too slow because when she lifted up to move, a wave caused by the changing current slammed into them and knocked the boat sideways. Charlotte felt her left hip bounce on the rim before she toppled backward into the water.

Icy cold pins stung her skin, but the shock of the frigid river was nothing compared to the rolls of turbulent waves pounding into her and spinning her body around until she lost all orientation and all sense of control. Air. She needed air. Logically, she knew bubbles rose to the surface, but there were so many damn bubbles going every which direction. She clawed at the current, trying to find her way until she grew dizzy with exertion.

Her thrashing foot hit a rock with enough force to catapult her back up, and she barely had time to feel the cool air against her wet face when her life jacket was practically yanked over her head.

It took her several seconds to realize that Alex had just pulled her back into the raft and she was face to face with Trouty, whose eyes were probably less bulgy than hers were by this point.

“You okay?” Alex asked.

No, she wanted to shout, but her trembling lips wouldn’t form the word. She’d almost drowned, almost orphaned her daughters. The unbearable thoughts of what could have happened churned inside her head, robbing her of speech. She’d never experienced such an all-consuming panic, such an intense fear. Yet all Charlotte could do was cough in response.

“Just hold still down there while I ferry us through this gate.” Charlotte had no idea what he’d just said except for the hold still part. And if she could convince her rapidly heaving chest to do that, she’d be fine. Or so she told herself.

* * *

Alex had seen plenty of people tossed into the water and he’d seen plenty of people slow to recover from the shock. But he’d never seen anyone so shaken up after the experience. Of course, being the guide, he couldn’t afford to stop the craft in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation to calm the passenger down. He usually let the others in the boat soothe the poor soul. But it was just him and Charlotte out here and Alex wasn’t so heartless as to ignore someone still in emotional distress.

“Tell me how you know Kylie,” he said, knowing the best way to get her mind off the incident was to keep her talking about anything but what was scaring her. It was also the best way to get his mind off the way the thin, wet fabric of her pants clung to her long shapely legs.

“We competed in the Miss Northwest pageant together,” she replied, her voice sounding as dazed as her wide-eyed stare.

Heaven help him. A sorority girl and a pageant queen. Unfortunately, he’d been right and Charlotte Folsom was the exact type of woman he went out of his way to avoid. His already wet hands went clammy. So, maybe he hadn’t been completely honest earlier when he claimed nobody had ever called him judgmental. Some of his best friends had married women just like the one trying not to hyperventilate on the floor of his raft, and those guys often laughed at his semijests that they’d crossed over to the dark side. The pretty women he’d dated in college required too much maintenance. The city women he’d refused to date required a fast-paced lifestyle he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy—or Commodore’s worst enemy, since Alex usually got along with everyone. Charlotte was a combination of both—beautiful and urban—and probably used to the finer things in life. Actually, there was no probably about it. She was a lifestyle expert for a magazine called Fine Tastes. Enough said.

Not that there was anything wrong with those types. They just weren’t for him. Just like the feel of Charlotte’s firm hips and curvy rear end wasn’t for him. Or for his hands. He’d felt her pause when he’d first touched her, wanting only to assist her into the boat after he’d secured the fish. Yet he’d experienced a tremor through his own body that had nothing to do with the frigid water. Had she felt it, too? Was that why she’d paused?

“How long was I under?” she asked, interrupting his inappropriate thoughts.

“Maybe twenty seconds,” he said, then cleared his throat.

“That’s all? It felt like forever.” He’d fallen out of a few boats himself and understood the sensation. It was always an adrenaline dump when a person found out they were never in as much danger as they’d originally thought.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “How’d you catch up to me?”

“You didn’t really get very far. The undertow helped. So, your girls are with the Gregsons?”

“Yes, do you know them? The Gregsons, not my girls. Obviously, you wouldn’t know my girls since you’ve never met them. Oh, my gosh, my poor girls.” When the woman’s voice shook, Alex cursed himself for trying to talk about a pleasant subject. “What if I’d died and never saw them again?”

“Listen, Charlotte. Your children are fine. And you’re fine. Focusing on all the ‘what ifs’ is no more productive than bouncing around in those rapids back there.”

Charlotte lifted her head enough to peek over the side. “Are we past them, then?”

“Yes.”

“Do we have to go through more areas like that one before we stop at that clearing you talked about?”

“Only two more.”

She shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was just her subsiding panic or the wind that had picked up. Normally, they recommended wearing wetsuits this time of year because of the cool water temperatures. But because the more risky rapids were still miles away, he’d figured they could change into the uncomfortable things only if they decided to go that far down river.

He glanced down at her lips, which had gone from cotton candy pink to pale blue. Yet she didn’t utter a single complaint. Alex was a firm believer that if some tourist wanted a firsthand experience of the land, they should be ready for all the elements Mother Nature could dish out. But Charlotte Folsom was also just doing her job, and even if he didn’t appreciate the necessity of whatever a lifestyle expert was, he had to give the woman credit for her commitment and her work ethic.

He especially had to admire that her biggest concern had been for her children and he wondered if her daughters had any idea how lucky they were to have a mom who worried about abandoning them. Not everyone was as fortunate.

Besides, while he knew how to put up a good front and calm down a customer, Alex was pretty sure his heartbeat was still bouncing along at the same tempo as the rapids behind them. He talked a big game when it came to people being tough enough to survive the vast wilderness, but at the end of the day he alone was responsible for bringing this woman back to her daughters. It was a powerful responsibility and one he normally didn’t take lightly—which made him feel all the more like a jerk for those initial judgments he’d made about her lifestyle and her wardrobe. It made him feel even worse for the thoughts he’d been having all day about wanting to put his hands on her.

But of the two guilt-inducing feelings, Alex knew it was in his best interest to remain skeptical and aloof. He’d never had to struggle with breaking his well-established rule about hooking up with the female clientele because he’d never been as attracted to one as much as he was to Charlotte.

He let out a ragged breath and felt his shoulders pull forward.

Maybe he should stop and let her change into some dry clothes, that is, if she’d packed an extra set of the name brand gear. And maybe he could take a second to get his own head back on straight and remind himself that she was just another customer. Just another woman.

“Listen, Charlotte, we still have about another hour or so to get to that spot I was telling you about. But, there’s a place up ahead where we can pull out and you can dry off and regroup.”

Alex knew better than to suggest that a lady might need some time to calm down. Growing up without a mother, he’d been a slow learner when it came to figuring the female species out, but by the time he got to college, he’d learned to avoid the high maintenance ones. And in Alex’s opinion, most of them were high maintenance. Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly avoid the woman shivering in front of him.

“I really don’t want you to have to go to any extra trouble for me. Especially because I never would have fallen into the water if I’d been paying better attention. But...” She hesitated long enough that he could hear her teeth chattering. “Would it be too much of an inconvenience?”

A few clouds had cleared, but Alex had lived on this mountain all his life and knew the weather could change on a dime. “Well, I’d prefer to pull out on the left bank, because the majority of access roads are on that side of the river.”

“Is there anywhere to stop on that side?” She was sitting up straight, now, and even had an oar cradled in front of her. He followed her gaze to the craggy, sheer side of the canyon.

“Not for a couple more miles.” Her nod was swallowed by another shiver. He had to admire her perseverance. Many inexperienced urbanites would’ve been complaining already. “Actually, this spot coming up on the right side wouldn’t be a bad place to stop for a few minutes.”

He saw the relief in her shoulders as she climbed back onto her perch and stuck her oar back in the water. It only took a couple of minutes to steer them onto a wide stretch of riverbank. Alex tied the raft to the branch of a fallen log, then held out his hand to assist a very wet Charlotte, careful not to allow himself to get too close to her again. Her fingers were rigid with cold and he doubted a quick change of clothes would do much to help elevate her body temperature. Yet, despite her quivering lips, she stood on the pebbled shore and stared at the lush green foliage in front of her.

“This is gorgeous,” she said, then blinked a few times as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “It’s so remote and untamed. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Alex smiled, somewhat awed by her appreciation for the land, and his chest expanded as though he was responsible for its design. Since he handled the store and the recreational sports side of the business, his dad was usually the one to witness the tourists’ first impressions of being completely surrounded by nature. In fact, Alex hated to admit it, but having been raised on the mountain, he was so accustomed to the great outdoors that he sometimes had to remind himself not to take it for granted.

“It is pretty incredible, huh?” Alex squeezed her hand, telling himself he was just trying to stimulate more blood flow through her freezing fingers. But when she returned the squeeze, he suddenly had to worry about his own blood flow. And the way it was racing to the part of his body just south of his waistband. He quickly dropped her hand.

Again with the inappropriate thoughts. She was a paying client and he’d never had trouble separating business from pleasure before. Sure, she was a knockout, but she was also from a world very different than his own. If history had taught him nothing else, it was to keep his distance from women like her.

“Too bad we can’t do the photo shoot with this as the background.” Charlotte’s chattering teeth didn’t stop her from smiling. But it did stop him from using his better judgment.

“You know what, why don’t we take the pictures here?” For the hundredth time, Alex looked up at the sky and hoped the weather would hold just a little longer, because his good sense was slowly floating away. “I was actually thinking you could benefit from a little fire and if you can do your cooking thing while I set up a pretend campsite, we can snap a few photos and be back in the raft in an hour.”

“That would be so incredible, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Her eyes were currently a deep shade of blue and he wondered how to make the violet hue return.

“Nah. To be honest with you, I’d be relieved to just get it all over with quicker and have Commodore meet us at that clearing I was telling you about.” He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. “Too bad we still don’t have reception, otherwise, I could have him waiting for us when we got there.”

“Since we’re being honest...” Charlotte stretched her arms over her head “...I would rather wait on land than paddle through any more rapids.”

It was a normal response for a person who’d never experienced the physical exertion and danger of paddling on one of the most unpredictable rivers in Idaho. Alex respected her candor, even if the admission didn’t surprise him. It was also a good reminder that Charlotte Folsom was from the city and his body had no business reacting to her with anything other than concern.

“Here,” he said, unhooking her waterproof duffel bag and handing it to her. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a tree to hide behind and change.”

A blush shot up her cheeks, bringing some much needed color to her cool skin. “How do you know someone won’t see me?”

“This is national forest land and the surrounding thousand or so acres are prohibited to hikers and campers.”

“So, we shouldn’t be here?”

“I know the local rangers. If we get caught, they won’t slap us with too big of a fine.” He was trying to make a joke, but her eyes were completely serious.

“But we’d be breaking a rule.”

“You’ve never broken a rule before?”

She bit her lower lip, her brows scrunched together as though she were trying to recall the answer. “Not knowingly. Besides, I think it would set a bad example for my daughters if they saw me doing something against the law.”

“If it puts your mind at ease, Russell’s Sports has a special permit allowing us access to the river and the areas near the shoreline. Unless we get too deep in the woods over there,” he pointed toward the towering redwoods about a hundred yards away, “we’re not breaking any laws. So, the sooner we get those pictures taken, the sooner I can get you back to your daughters and you can tell them about your great rule-following adventure.”

Charlotte had looked skeptical until he’d mentioned her kids and then the woman couldn’t move quickly enough up the bank and toward to the pine trees surrounding the tall grass meadow.

Alex admired her eagerness to be reunited with her children, refusing to think about other mothers who couldn’t wait to ditch their kids and return to their lives in New York. Not that he was bitter about something that had happened over thirty years ago or anything.

He unloaded several of the dry boxes and carried them to the grass above. Then he returned to the bank to collect a few small boulders to circle around a campfire. He grabbed a small hatchet from the box of supplies and set out in the opposite direction of Charlotte. By the time he returned to the makeshift pit, he had enough dry branches and wood chips to get a small fire going.

Charlotte walked toward him, looking drier and much more relaxed than she had a few moments ago. She also looked more beautiful than she had when she’d stepped out of Commodore’s Jeep. Her damp hair was darker and wrapped up into some sort of loose bun on top of her head, a fringe of bangs covering her forehead. The elastic headband was still in place, but her hair looked more natural, less formal.

From his kneeling position, he tried not to stare at the way the athletic fabric of her yellow, long-sleeved T-shirt clung to her small, pert breasts. Especially since he was pretty certain that her bra was drying with the rest of her wet clothes hanging off a nearby branch.

He struck the first match and got his thumbnail instead. Damn it.

Focus, Alexander. He heard his father’s voice reminding him that the customers come and go, but the river and the land were always there and deserved his full attention and respect. He knew better than to let a woman distract him, especially while lighting a fire. Besides, it was better than Commodore’s voice, which was a gruff, Pay attention, son, accompanied by a light smack across the back of his head.

“Is there anything you need me to set up before I start cleaning Trouty?” Charlotte asked.

He finally got a small flame going and blew on it a few times before responding. “You named our lunch?”

She leaned over his shoulder and looked at his wristwatch. It was well after three o’clock. “Technically, I named our dinner if we don’t hurry.”

Technically, if she moved any closer to him, he’d fall into the fire he’d just lit. He stood up a bit too quickly and the top of his head bumped into her chin.

“Ow,” she said, at the same time he blurted out an apology.

“Are you hurt?” He took either side of her face between his palms and, after nudging her hand out of the way, studied her jaw.

He didn’t know if it was the heat from the fire or something else that caused her face to warm up. But from the way she was avoiding eye contact with him, he had to wonder if she was reacting to his nearness the same way he’d just reacted to her tight shirt. Then he had to wonder why he cared.

“No, it’s my fault,” she said suddenly, taking a step back. “I’m usually not so accident prone.”

“Good thing we have a well-stocked first aid kit, then.” Alex wasn’t good with lighthearted banter. Or with women who expected too much from him. He needed to get back to what he did best. “So, tell me where you want me to set up the tent.”

“I was thinking by those trees,” she said, pointing to the smaller ponderosas away from the river. “It’s too bad the sun isn’t setting, otherwise we’d get an awesome shot of the light coming through the branches.”

“Trust me, we don’t want to be here after the sun sets.”

Her eyes grew into perfect circles and now looked more violet than blue. “Why? Are there bears and wild animals?”

“Probably. But I was actually referring to being on the river at night with a storm coming. And right now, we’re burning daylight.”

“Right,” she said, and set to work going through the container holding cooking supplies. But he noticed the way she stole glances toward the forest, as though she was worried an unwelcome visitor would join them for their meal.

Alex began pitching the tent, then decided the pictures would look more realistic if he set up some sleeping bags and a lantern inside. He’d had his doubts about Charlotte’s ability to cook something over an open fire rather than in a fancy state-of-the-art kitchen and those concerns doubled when he realized she was stopping every few minutes to take pictures of what she was doing with her smart phone. But when the mouthwatering scent of pan-fried fish reached his nostrils, he began to rethink his initial concerns.

Or maybe he was just hungry. He knew he should’ve had the stuffed French toast at the Cowgirl Up Café in town this morning instead of the simple bowl of oatmeal. Good thing his dad always taught him to pack extra dried food supplies, even for these day trips. He didn’t care how indigenous Charlotte Folsom wanted her staged meal to appear. If it didn’t taste good, he wasn’t eating it.

Alex made his way toward the fire to investigate whether he’d need to resort to freeze-dried tuna, but before he got there, a booming roar sounded and a flash lit up the gray sky. He saw Charlotte jump at the crashing noise, right before he saw a bolt of lightning hit one of the lower hanging trees by the river bank.

The tree splintered in two, with the heavier side falling in slow motion—right toward where he’d moored the raft.