help but chuckle, then paused to extend his hand. “Gideon Snow.”
“Nice to meet you.” When she pressed her small, cold hand against his, if he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Stupid. Corny. Inappropriate. “Wish I had a name to call you. For now,” he said, “let’s call you Jane. You know? Like Jane Doe.”
She winced. “That’s not very original.”
“True. But I’m guessing you’ve got family out there missing you. Probably even a husband.”
She’d withdrawn her hand, and now inspected her empty left-hand ring finger. “I don’t feel married.”
Good. Because for some inane, selfish, inexplicable reason, he didn’t want her tied to another man. But then considering what a mess she’d made of Gideon’s day that made no sense. Logically, he should have been thrilled to have her and her baby be someone else’s problem.
The trail widened, and they finished the short walk side by side. The sleet had stopped, but the whole forest sounded as if it were dripping.
A crow’s sharp call rose above the melting sleet’s patter.
“Is it just me,” Jane asked with a shiver, “or is it getting colder?”
“It is,” he said, glad for the distraction from wondering how such a pint-sized woman had found the wherewithal to not only give birth in the forest, but then cut her baby’s umbilical cord before chasing out into the storm.
She was really something.
Not that it mattered.
Gideon wasn’t in the market for female company. That ship had sailed long ago. His contentious divorce guaranteed he’d never again climb aboard the Love Boat.
“That was delicious. Thank you.” Jane couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed a meal more. But then considering the fact that she didn’t know her own name, was that a surprise? The act of eating proved especially enjoyable, because of the normalcy of sharing a meal. If only for a moment, it distracted her from her frightening reality—of literally having zero reality.
“It was no biggie.” Her cowboy had added water to a packet of dehydrated sweet-and-sour pork. He was right; the shared feast hadn’t required an inordinate amount of culinary skill, but it was hot and filling and for now, that was good enough.
Before sundown, he’d built up the fire, then moved the tent closer to take advantage of the radiant heat.
Jane cradled her son, rubbing the underside of her chin along his downy hair. Part of her couldn’t wait to get him back to civilization. Another part was terrified of what that return might find. There had to have been a reason for her to have endangered herself by traipsing off into the woods this late in her pregnancy. It had been not only irresponsible, but just plain dumb. She was lucky they were still alive.
So why had she done it? A nagging voice told her she didn’t want to know.
“Do you have kids?” she asked Gideon, eager to change the subject—if only in her own mind.
“Nope.”
“I’m assuming you’re not married?”
“Nope.”
“Would you ever want to be?”
“Nope.”
“Why so fast to respond?” She kissed the crown of her baby’s head. “I’ve only been a mother for a few hours, but this guy’s already got me wrapped around both of his tiny pinkie fingers.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been there, done that, and learned the hard way that marriage isn’t for me. The only logical conclusion is that parenthood would end with the same dismal results.” He set the foil food packet on the ground beside his log seat, then warmed his hands in front of the fire. He was tall and ruggedly appealing, but not traditionally handsome. His nose was crooked as if it may have been broken. His jaw was too wide and his cheekbones too high. That said, something about the way firelight danced in his brown eyes called to mind s’mores and made her wonder what kind of ugly breakup had resulted in such a bad attitude toward any sort of new relationship.
Skirting the direct issue, but still curious, she said, “Tell me about your parents.”
“Not much to tell.” He added a log to the fire. “They’ve passed.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged, staring into the dancing flames. “They were hardly the sort who inspired procreation or family unity. I’d never even celebrated Thanksgiving until joining the Navy. Before Mom split, we did usually have Christmas.”
“That’s sad. But back to your grim outlook on marriage, what happened?”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Yes, but I won’t get a wink of sleep until you answer my question.”
He sighed. “If you must know, I’m divorced. My marriage ended so badly that my ex wanted her freedom even more than my assets. We had to have set a record for the world’s fastest split.”
Jane whistled. “Did you cheat on her?”
“Why would you assume that?”
“You said you were in the Navy. I thought you might have had a girl in every port.”
“I didn’t.” He pitched a log into the fire hard enough to send sparks flying.
“I believe you. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. How about you turn in. I’ll keep watch.”
“For what? Mountain lions? Bigfoot?”
“Look...” He clasped his hands. “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather sleep outside.”
“Oh.” Why did his rejection hit her as if he’d turned down her invite to a Sadie Hawkins dance? “Sure. I understand.”
But she didn’t.
Worse yet, it wasn’t so much his rejection that had her super confused, but her silly reaction. For a woman who literally knew only two people in the world, to have one dismiss her stung.
* * *
GIDEON WOULD HAVE enjoyed nothing more than stretching out in his sleeping bag in Jane’s toasty tent. The night had turned breezy, and his fingers and nose felt cold enough to snap off. Just what he needed: to also be missing his nose. That’d be a big hit with the ladies.
Suddenly mad at the world, his ex, Missy, and most of all himself, Gideon kicked dirt into the fire.
Nights were always tough.
Jane’s incessant babbling
