Captain Ron said, walking away. “It’s a single.”
Caleb smirked at Jay. “Disappointed?”
Not bothering to respond, he picked up the tent and headed the opposite direction. Bunking with him wasn’t an option, so she joined the other women. Faith stood clear while Paula and Meg put up the tent. Inside, she changed into warmer clothes. The fleece jacket and water-resistant pants were her sister’s usual style, function over fashion, but she didn’t mind. It was almost dark. No one cared how she looked.
Ron spoke to Hope on the radio while they were making camp. Faith couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but she gathered that Ranger Banning wouldn’t be joining them. Typical Hope. Always on duty.
Faith needed to have a serious talk with her sister. Hope worked more and dated less every year. She wasn’t equipped for one-night stands, like Faith. The last jerk she’d slept with had reduced her to tears. Hope rarely let her guard down with men, so she was slow to recover from disappointments.
Faith knew why Hope shied away from relationships. Ten years ago, her sister had made a mistake she couldn’t forgive herself for. Other than that one slipup, she was the perfect daughter, the responsible student, the valiant rescuer. “Great White Hope,” Faith called her when she was feeling peevish. Hope was saving the world with her park ranger job. Their flower-power parents were so proud.
Faith was the black sheep of the Banning family. She liked big cities, throngs of people, expensive things. Where Hope had substance, Faith was all flash. She had no interest in saving anything, least of all money. She was an unrepentant pleasure seeker, coasting through life on a useless art history degree.
She’d never be as good as Hope. The best she could do was look good.
Despite their differences, Faith didn’t resent her sister. She adored her. It broke Faith’s heart to hear the loneliness in Hope’s voice. She wanted to help her sister come out of her shell. Hope needed to stop hiding in the woods and start living.
After the radio call, Ron started a fire. Faith sat down on a log and stretched out her hands, trying to thaw by the flames. Jay took the space next to her. He’d donned his beanie, along with a long-sleeved T-shirt and vintage Levi’s jeans.
“Cold?” he asked.
She nodded.
He put his arm around her. Not asking permission, but moving slowly enough that she could say no if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
His body felt warm and hard where it pressed against hers. He was like a side of beef, with no give. His hand cupped the curve of her waist as if it had been molded for that purpose. She was comforted and thrilled in equal measures.
He kept his gaze on the fire, probably because looking into her eyes at this distance would be weird. But he was still attuned to her. When she exhaled a ragged breath, he smiled and squeezed her waist. She snuggled closer, enjoying the contact.
Faith hadn’t been held by a man in over six months. Since her breakup with Tom, casual hookups had lost their appeal. She wasn’t as adventurous or carefree as she used to be, and that worried her. If she stayed abstinent much longer, she’d become a born-again virgin like Hope. Maybe it was time to knock the dust off her vagina.
Jay was a perfect candidate for a fling. He didn’t match her mental picture of an avid outdoorsman, however. His jaw was shadowed by stubble, and his clothes were on the thrifty side, but he didn’t appear dirty or unkempt. He had good skin, straight teeth and nice hands. This was no hippie backpacker or scruffy wildlife hunter.
His hair had felt thick and luxuriant, and it was expertly cut. He looked more like a lawyer than a lumberjack.
“What do you do?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.
“I’m in shipping.”
“Shipping?”
He nodded. “I work for a company in Las Vegas.”
Las Vegas. Close enough for a friendly visit, but too far for anything serious. That suited Faith just fine.
The others gathered around the fire a moment later. Jay eased his arm away as smoothly as he’d introduced it, giving her an apologetic glance. Maybe he didn’t want to invite comments about how cozy they were getting.
Ron boiled water for freeze-dried meals and served them in the bag with plastic forks. The beef stew tasted awful to Faith, but Jay ate it like a starving man. She offered him her portion and shared a handful of trail mix with Paula, who was a vegetarian. Hot cocoa was the highlight of the evening.
There were no roasted marshmallows or campfire sing-alongs. Faith felt certain that someone would request a round of “Kumbayah,” but no. Ron and the other women went to bed early. Caleb brandished a flask and a smile. He unscrewed the cap and held it out to Faith, who accepted with enthusiasm. After tossing back a shot, she coughed and grimaced. The men laughed at her girlish reaction.
Jay also took a drink, swallowing easily. They passed around the flask until it was empty. By the time Ted rolled a joint, Faith was already buzzed.
“This is good shit,” Caleb said, holding in the smoke.
“Tastes local,” Ted agreed.
Faith declined a toke. The liquor was strong enough, and she hardly knew these guys. Getting wasted out of her mind wasn’t a smart idea. Jay didn’t hit the joint, either, which seemed to surprise them.
“You don’t want any?”
He shook his head.
Caleb and Ted continued to share the pot. Soon they were in la-la land by themselves, debating on the other side of the campfire about how ancient civilizations had been influenced by space aliens.
Faith giggled at Caleb’s wild gestures and turned her attention back to Jay. He was studying her again. Although her face felt naked without makeup, she reminded herself that firelight was flattering.
“Warmer now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, with some regret. The combination of alcohol and masculine attention made her cheeks hot. If she wanted another excuse to cuddle with him, she’d have to move away from the fire.
First things first.
She met his eyes. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, seeming amused. “What about you?”
“No girlfriend,” she said coyly, twirling the end of her braid. “I tried that once in college but it didn’t work out.”
His mouth went slack at the implication.
“No boyfriend, either.”
He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Why not?”
“I haven’t felt like dating anyone since my last breakup.”
“What happened?”
“I guess we didn’t
