Читать книгу Wilde Side - Jannine Gallant - Страница 8

The unmistakable sound of retching penetrated Sawyer’s sleep-fogged brain. Shit. He sat upright in his sleeping bag to peer into the unrelenting blackness of a moonless night. Nothing disturbed the silence except the steady rush of water and his own pulse drumming in his ears. Had he imagined it? Dreamed someone was in distress?

A low moan followed by more gagging answered that question. Scrambling out of his bag, he felt for the flashlight he’d left on the ground beside him, clicked it on and shielded the bright beam with his other hand. The last thing he wanted was to wake the whole camp. Walking carefully to avoid falling over obstacles, he followed the sounds until they stopped again.

Flashing the light toward the edge of the woods, the beam caught a broad back and up-ended ass covered by a pair of tighty whities. The only one in camp that large was his godfather. He rested on hands and knees, his whole body shaking.

“You okay, Walton?”

Stupid-ass question. Of course he isn’t okay.

“Sawyer?” The voice broke on another round of heaving.

His mother had held his head and stroked his back when he was a kid with the flu. The last time he’d been sick, his at-the-time girlfriend had fled while he puked his guts out in the bathroom. The kicker was a note left on the pillow telling him to call when he wasn’t contagious. He hadn’t bothered. Surely some middle ground was appropriate in this situation.

When the current bout of nausea ended, Walton straightened and turned. “Damn. Did you come over here to shoot me? I’d appreciate it if you would.”

“Afraid not, but I can offer you some of that pink crap if you think it might settle your stomach. We keep a bottle with the first aid kit.” He directed the flashlight beam down low.

“Nothing left in there to settle.” His godfather wiped a shaky hand across his clammy forehead.

Sawyer shifted from foot to foot then jammed his free hand in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Can I help you back to your tent?”

“Let’s give it a minute—just to be sure I’m not going to start up again.” Walton let out a deep breath. “Shit. Something sure didn’t agree with me.”

Stepping over to the nearby tent, Sawyer lifted the flap and flashed the light around the interior. Spotting a jacket, he pulled it out and brought it to the man huddled on the ground. “Here. Put this on.”

“Thanks.” Walton slipped his arms through the sleeves then pulled up the zipper. “I don’t know what the hell happened. The nausea hit me with no warning. I barely made it out of the tent in time.”

“Maybe those tequila shots you were doing with Liam and Yancy weren’t such a great idea.”

“I’m not drunk. I only had one shot plus a couple of beers with those boys, just to establish a rapport. I’m not stupid enough to overindulge in the presence of the media, for Christ’s sake.”

“You certainly sound sober.” He flashed the light beam. “You’re getting a little color back in your face. Feeling any better?”

“I am.” Planting a hand on the ground, he pushed upward.

Sawyer helped him to his feet then held on to steady him when he swayed. “Easy does it.”

“I’ve got this. One foot in front of the other, right?”

A grin slipped out. The fact that Walton could joke about the situation showed his strength of character.

“I don’t think you’re ready for a marathon, but you should make it back to your tent without a problem. Good thing, since you’re way too heavy to carry.”

“Well, thank God for that.” The man took another wavering step forward. “I don’t need anyone else waking up to snap pictures of my fat, white ass. That kind of publicity would kill any momentum I have going into the election.”

“Hey, at least you still had on your briefs. If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have stuck around. There are limits to my goodwill—even if you are my godfather.” When Sawyer held back the tent flap, Walton collapsed inside.

He rolled onto his back, one arm covering his face, and took a few shallow breaths. “Now that I’m here, let’s hope I don’t have to make another quick exit. I may pull on my pants when I work up the energy, just in case.”

“I’m sorry you’re feeling so rotten.”

“All I can figure is I ate something bad.”

Sawyer frowned. “That doesn’t make sense since we all ate the same food at lunch and dinner, and no one else is sick. At least I haven’t heard anyone else get up.”

“I always did have a sensitive stomach. Hopefully I got whatever it was out of my system.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “But maybe you should toss any leftover potato salad, just in case. I had two helpings tonight.”

“I’ll do that.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, are you going to be all right? I can stay if you want me to.”

“God, no. Go back to bed. I’m just thankful I have my own tent and didn’t wake anyone else.”

Sawyer retreated a step. “Let’s hope you’re feeling a lot better in the morning.”

“I doubt I’ll be much use paddling tomorrow.” Walton grimaced. “Not that I was particularly useful today. Devin might have been right when she told me I bit off more than I could chew with this trip.”

“She told you that?”

“The woman isn’t afraid to speak her mind.” He struggled to sit up. “I saw you sneaking a few peeks her way. If you’re inclined to make a move in that direction, you’d better watch yourself.”

Sawyer stilled with his hand on the flap and the light directed into the tent. “Oh?”

“Yep, she won’t sugarcoat what she says, and she doesn’t put up with any crap. Also, she isn’t big on forgiveness. Tends to cut her losses sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t have a problem with the direct approach, not that it matters. Doesn’t seem like your aide and I have a whole lot in common. Although I do enjoy her quick wit…and great legs.”

Walton snorted then pressed a hand to his stomach. “Oww, don’t make me laugh. Go away, now. I want to get some sleep.”

“See you in the morning.” Sawyer dropped the flap then zipped it closed before making his way back to the campfire.

A few embers still glowed in the ashes. He added a couple of dead branches, waited until they caught fire and then held his hands above the flame to warm. When rock scraped against rock followed by a muffled curse behind him, he glanced over his shoulder. Clicking on the flashlight, he caught Devin in the beam.

She covered her eyes with her hand.

“Sorry.” He turned off the light. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Sure.” She kept her voice low as she approached. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Walton was sick. He suspects food poisoning.”

“Is he okay?” She touched the sleeve of his sweatshirt then held tight. “Should I go check on him?”

“I think the worst is over. I just left him, and he was hoping to get some sleep.” When she shivered, Sawyer slipped his other arm around her to pull her closer to the fire. “Are you cold? How come you’re up at this hour?”

She leaned against him. “I had to go pee. Geez, not exactly what you want to tell a cute guy in the middle of the night. I guess I should have put a jacket on over my pajamas. It’s chilly out here.”

He grinned and tightened his arm then glanced down at her in the flickering firelight. “I don’t mind keeping you warm. Besides, you wouldn’t want to cover up those dancing penguins.”

“Laugh all you want. Penguins are what’s cool in flannel this year.”

The grin broadened. “I like you, Devin. You have a quirky sense of humor.”

“I’ve been told I’m one weird chick, so I appreciate the fact that you get me.” She covered a yawn. “If you’re sure my boss doesn’t need his hand held, I guess I should go back to bed.”

“Me, too. Uh, about that proposition you didn’t quite make earlier…”

What the hell am I doing? Asking for trouble? Shut up and go to bed. Alone. As he’d told Walton, Devin was all wrong for him.

“The offer to fill you in on the long version of how I met my boss?” Her low voice held a husky, teasing quality that sent heat sizzling through him.

He pried his gaze away from the firelight dancing over her mouth with its full bottom lip to focus on what she’d said. “Huh? Wait, I remember now. Not exactly what I was talking about, but…never mind.”

She touched the hand he’d fisted at his side. “About the tent sharing…”

“You were joking. I know that. Forget I opened my big mouth. Talk about unprofessional. Good God, I—”

“Our relationship doesn’t feel professional. You’re family friends with Walton, and we’re very close.” She stiffened. “Please don’t take that out of context. I didn’t mean we’re—”

“No worries. I know how you meant it. Anyway, my godfather isn’t the cheating type, and he loves his wife.” Sawyer gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s also the Griff and Ainslee connection. Maybe all these interlocking relationships are why you don’t seem like just another client on a rafting trip.”

Somewhere in the night, a cricket chirped, breaking the silence that fell between them. At their feet, the fire snapped and popped as the last of the branches he’d added settled into the glowing coals.

“I wasn’t completely kidding.”

He swallowed hard. “You weren’t?”

“Nope, I like your genuineness. A refreshing change.” Her voice hardened. “But let’s give it a couple of days to get to know each other better. Despite the impression I probably gave you, I don’t share a…tent with every good-looking man I meet.”

“I never imagined you did.”

“Good night, Sawyer.” With a final backward glance, she turned and disappeared into the darkness.

“Wow.” The whispered word melted into the night. Sawyer dropped to his knees then crawled into his sleeping bag to stare up at the inky sky. Devin wasn’t the kind of woman he was looking for, but the erratic beat of his heart argued the point despite all the evidence to the contrary. She favored cities and dated men who wore suits. He spent half the year living in a tent and put on a clean pair of jeans when he wanted to dress up. Their lifestyles were polar opposites.

Maybe different wasn’t so bad. Change was good for the soul, wasn’t it? Stimulating. He grimaced. Right now, imagining the soft curves beneath those damn penguin pajamas, he was so stimulated he’d probably never get back to sleep.

Turning on his side, he gave his pillow a couple of whacks then bunched it beneath his head. If Devin was interested, he sure wouldn’t turn her down. Hell no. Like the river behind him, he’d just go with the flow and enjoy her company for the next few days. Not let himself worry about what would happen when the trip ended.

His problem was he thought things to death. This time he’d turn off his brain and go with his gut. A grin slipped out. Or possibly other parts of his anatomy. As long as his heart wasn’t involved, it was all good.

* * * *

Devin stretched her legs out in front of her on the rocky ground, took a sip of her raspberry-flavored drink then closed her eyes to soak in the afternoon sun. Some of the others in the group were talking together while they munched chips and drank sodas, but the details of their conversation were drowned out by the roar of the nearby rapids. Which was just fine with her. She was sorely in need of some alone time. Between the off-color jokes and constant bickering about sports, she was on a testosterone overload.

When her cell rang, she nearly toppled off her perch. Talk about an intrusion… By the time she dug her phone out of the waterproof container in her bag, the call had gone to voicemail. After listening to Syd’s urgent message, she called Walton’s campaign manager back.

When he answered on the first ring, she got straight to the point. “Everything is fine here, honestly. No need to stress out since the media is playing by the rules we set up ahead of time.”

“Glad to hear it.” The gruff voice paused. “When neither you nor Walton responded to my messages, I started to worry.”

“Service is super spotty on the river. I was shocked when my phone rang.”

“Oh. Then we’ll make this quick. How’s Walton handling the rapids? Does he look presidential or like he might cave in under a little pressure?” His voice deepened. “This whole plan could blow up in our faces.”

Devin grinned as she pictured Syd’s mustache twitching while he paced in a circle. “Actually, our boss is handling the river pretty darn well, all things considered.”

“What things?” His voice took on a dire tone.

“Just a touch of food poisoning. He’s fine now.”

“Goddamn it, I knew there’d be adverse consequences to this trip!”

A shout came from upriver. “I see the raft. Get ready to film.” Liam stood atop a boulder, video camera poised.

Devin craned her neck toward the action. “Syd, I have to go. I’ll talk to you next time I have service, but you don’t need to worry. I’m doing my job.”

“You’d better. I—”

She clicked the phone off and dropped it in her bag.

Yancy, the older member of the two-man media team, hefted a camera to his shoulder and pointed it at the heart-stopping Pistol Creek rapids. They’d all managed to survive the descent before taking a short break. Most of the group had survived, anyway. The jury was still out on the fate of her boss, Dwight and Alex, who were in Sawyer’s raft coming through now. Liam had insisted on filming a segment featuring Walton and the two boys, guaranteed to entertain and excite the viewing public.

Devin had complete faith in Sawyer’s ability to muscle the raft through the drops and turns in the long set of rapids with style. She wished she was as certain Walton and the two teens would master the experience without disgracing themselves. Expressions of extreme terror in the face of nature in the raw were the exact images the campaign manager feared most.

“Whoo-hoo! This is epic. When they get closer, focus on Hinsdale’s face if you can. I’m getting background footage.” Liam’s shout was barely audible over the roaring river.

“You know it!” Yancy anchored his feet on the river’s edge and swung the camera, presumably to better follow the raft’s progress as it careened through the rapids.

Bouncing and dipping, the occupants paddled hard at Sawyer’s barked instruction. Even Dwight was putting in maximum effort. Devin grinned. Apparently the kid didn’t want to look lame on national television. The congressman sat erect, face composed, though she sensed a nervous tension in the way his jaw clenched as they dropped down the final chute into calmer waters. Below her, the others cheered as the raft nudged up to the shore.

“Nicely done.” Jon held the front of the raft while the two boys scrambled onto the rocky beach. “You looked like pros out there.”

“Scared the crap out of me.” Walton let out a long breath then glanced her way. “Did it show?”

“Not at all. America will be impressed.”

“Let’s hope. What a day.” He climbed up to her viewpoint and collapsed beside her.

Devin forced her gaze away from Sawyer, who’d just pulled his soaking wet shirt off to wring it out, and focused on her boss. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not my best. All that heaving last night made me sore.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Whatever it was, I got it out of my system.”

“Be thankful you did. I’m not sure how medical emergencies are handled out here in the middle of nowhere.” She frowned. “Still, it’s odd you were the only one to get sick.”

“I’ve never been able to tolerate spicy food. Maybe it was the barbecue sauce, not the potato salad.” He let out a sigh. “It’s over. I’m sure it’ll be smooth sailing—or should I say rafting—from here on out.”

“Let’s hope.” Her attention returned to Sawyer, who was talking to Jon. The object of her midnight fantasies shook his head then pulled his shirt back on. Too bad. Sawyer had abs to die for. She looked away and nudged her boss. “Um, you’d better go grab a snack if you want one. I imagine we’ll be heading back down the river shortly.”

“Not hungry.” Walton leaned against a rock and closed his eyes. “I just want to rest in the sun until we leave.”

“I got a call from Syd.”

Her boss didn’t even blink. “Did you assure him all is fine?”

“I did.” Devin rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you to snooze in the sun. By the way, great job on those rapids. You really did look impressive, and I know that took some effort.”

He cracked open one lid. “It was a rush in the same terrifying way rollercoasters are. Never could understand why people enjoy those things.”

“I adore rollercoasters and bungee jumping and hang gliding and—”

He closed his eye again. “You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told. Have a nice nap.” Stepping carefully across the slippery ledge, Devin made her way over to the guides.

The men broke off their conversation and turned to face her. Jon spoke first. “Something we can do to help you?”

Her gaze flicked from the older man’s wide grin to Sawyer’s closed expression. He was definitely hard to read, and after their conversation the previous night, she wasn’t at all sure what he thought of her.

She cleared her throat. “I was wondering how long we’ll stay here.”

Sawyer glanced toward the congressman and back. “We were just discussing that. Walton looks wiped out. I think we’ll hang out for a while before heading down to our campsite. No reason to rush.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll go for a short hike. I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“Why don’t you go with her, Sawyer?” Jon poked his boss with an elbow. “Make sure she doesn’t get lost since there’s not much of a trail to follow.”

Devin backed up a step. “You don’t have to—”

“Actually, I’d love to get in a little exercise.” Sawyer interrupted her protest then flashed a quick smile. “We won’t be gone long.” Laying a hand on her arm, he guided her up the hillside studded with rocks and trees.

“I’m not exactly dressed for a serious hike.” She glanced down at her neon orange bikini top paired with flowered board shorts and water sandals.

“As long as the shoes have decent tread and are comfortable, you’ll be fine. We aren’t scaling any mountains.”

“If you say so.” She waved toward the hillside. “Looks pretty mountainous to me.”

“We aren’t going to the top. A few years ago I discovered a spot with a terrific view only a short climb from here.”

Devin panted a little as she dropped behind him on the trail up the rugged slope. The man had the skills of a mountain goat. She didn’t have any breath left for a conversation and was thankful he didn’t seem to expect one. Pushing her sunglasses up her nose, she wiped sweat off her brow and wondered what his definition of a short climb was.

When they reached a tricky section with a steep pitch and loose gravel, he reached back to take her hand. “Watch your step here.”

“You think?” She inched along, afraid to pry her gaze off her feet. The big hand clamped around hers added a layer of confidence she sorely needed on the open cliff face with its narrow ledge. “I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights. Not much, anyway.”

He hesitated then shot her a concerned glance. “Sorry, the thought never even occurred to me. You seem so ultra-confident about everything.”

“Thanks, but this is a little outside my comfort zone.” She let out a sigh when they reached the other side and the ground leveled out a bit. “However, I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Good to know.”

Devin skipped a step to catch up as the trail widened and they were able to walk side-by-side. “I’ve been missing my dog and feeling guilty for hiking without him, but now I’m glad he isn’t with us.”

Sawyer glanced down at her. “Oh, why’s that?”

“Tiny is a total klutz. He’d have fallen over his own feet and nose-dived off the cliff.”

A grin flashed, and he squeezed the hand he still held. “I thought dogs were supposed to resemble their owners. Nothing uncoordinated about you.”

“Good thing, or I wouldn’t have made it across that ledge.”

“Yeah, you would have. Anyway, we’ve arrived.”

They rounded a bend, and the vista opened up to majestic splendor. Below them, the Salmon River sliced through an evergreen bowl studded with patches of early fall color, bright nuggets in a sea of green.

Devin drew in a breath. “Beautiful.”

His gaze held steady on her face. “Without a doubt.” He motioned toward a low rock. “Want to sit for a while?”

“Sure.” She dropped down then slid over to make room for him. “Thanks for bringing me up here. The view is worth those few minutes of nail-biting.”

He leaned back, one elbow brushing hers. “I needed a little peace and quiet away from the group.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“Until I busted in on your alone time?” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not. You’re restful to be around. Not a lot of chatter. No drama. No whining.”

His grin sent a flutter through her chest before his expression sobered.

“You’re the opposite of restful.”

She drew back. “I am?”

He nodded then ran a finger down the length of her arm. “When I’m around you, I spend most of my time thinking about only one thing.”

The heat in his eyes stole her breath. Her response was a mere whisper. “What do you think about?”

“This.”