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Authors: Bess McBride

Tags: #multicultural, #Contemporary

Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (18 page)

BOOK: Jenny Cussler's Last Stand
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“I’m sorry. My hands are sweating. I’m nervous. This is really hard. I guess I’m not very trusting.”

Her partner paused for a moment and squeezed her hands in response, then began to move again. Why wouldn’t he talk? She held her breath, the better to listen to her surroundings.

They paused again, and he pulled her hand up to place it on something in front. The door frame. He was going to take her outside.

“Listen, are you sure you don’t want to talk while we’re doing this? Just think. You could be telling me about yourself, telling me when to take a step—” As if she willed it, Jenny tripped over the metal threshold. Her partner grabbed her in his arms to steady her. She pulled back quickly. Whoever he was, he was definitely tall and smelled wonderfully of the scent of a powder talc soap. She had no idea young men could elicit such a sensual response from her. Had she become a cougar? A woman who lusted after younger men?

He began to lead her forward, slowly, allowing her to take tiny tentative steps. The crunch of gravel under their feet caught her attention, the sound amplified because of her blindness. She followed her partner hesitantly, hoping he had a plan. Wandering around the campground with her eyes closed in the wake of a stranger was not helping her build one bit of trust.

“So, where are we going? Can you give me a hint?” He pressed her hand again in some form of unspoken communication which she could not decipher. Reassurance? It wasn’t working. Jenny heard the voices from inside the building on her right, so she deduced he was taking her to an area behind the camp which she had not yet explored. The general hum of conversation died away, and a noise replaced the sound of voices. Water... The sound of gurgling water grew louder...

Good gravy! Where were they? They hadn’t walked to the river. Was there more water nearby?

She hesitated.

“Where are we?”

He pressed her hands again and pulled her a few more steps forward before bringing her to a halt. He released her abruptly, and she put her hands out in front, feeling bereft and vulnerable.

“Wait! What are you doing?” It took everything she had to keep her eyes shut. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be willing to stay in the dark, especially if he wasn’t going to talk to her.

His hands pressed down onto her shoulders, and she gripped them for a moment before understanding he wanted her to sit down. She bent her knees and felt the ground around her feet. Grass. The water gurgled somewhere directly in front. Was she on a riverbank? She sank down to the ground and crossed her legs. She sensed rather than felt that he sat down beside her.

“Okay, what now? A picnic? Did you bring any food?” she chuckled nervously. “Are you the young man who sat across from me?”

“No, I didn’t bring any food. Are you hungry?”

Jenny’s eyes flew open at the sound of Clint’s baritone.

“Clint!”

He stretched his legs before him, ankles crossed, and rested back on his arms, appearing to the world as if he were on a picnic.

“How...what...how...?” Jenny looked down at her hands. How could she not have known the man who held her hands was Clint? How could she not have recognized his touch?

He lifted the corner of his mouth and eyed her from under dark lashes.

“We had an uneven number of people. I already knew that, and I got to you before the fellow across the way could.” He chuckled. “I think he’s walking some other guy around right about now.”

Jenny responded to his grin. She peeked over the edge of the small embankment. A small stream frolicked between them and the thick woods on the other side.

“That’s the creek that runs through the sweat lodge area. It feeds into a pond up there, where we cool off, and then it comes down here.”

Jenny stared at the water, lost for an instant in visions of Clint basking in a pond...naked.

“The women’s first sweat is coming up at 4:30.” He checked his watch. “In just about an hour. Are you going?”

With a burning face, Jenny dragged her eyes back to the fully clothed Clint. She blinked under his steady gaze, hoping he couldn’t read minds.

“Umm...I don’t know.” She pulled her legs to her chest tightly and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m kind of...um...shy.” She threw him a quick crooked grin. “I’m having a hard enough time with the ladies’ shower room.”

“Oh!” His eyebrows shot up, but he softened his surprise with a sympathetic smile. “I see. I was the same way, but living in close quarters in the Army knocked that right out of me. Now, I don’t care who sees me.”

Jenny’s willful mind rushed to a scene of Clint standing beside the fire of the sweat lodges at night, water running down the bronze skin of his chest. She put her hands to her hot face.

“Oh, really.” A weak attempt at innuendo, she realized.

“Really,” he replied with a grin. He held her gaze for a moment. “Give it a try. I’d like to think of you up there.”

Jenny felt the sweat break out on her upper lip. Was he saying what she thought? That he might fantasize about her the way she had him? Or was it an innocent comment?

She jumped up and brushed imaginary grass off the seat of her jeans.

“I’ll think about it. Shouldn’t we be getting back? She cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the camp. Several partner couples led each other about in the common area.

Clint rose. He took Jenny’s hot hands in his, and although she resisted, he held onto them. He bent his head and looked down at her. She dropped her eyes in a desperate attempt to keep him from seeing more than she wanted to reveal.

“Jenny,” he murmured, a husky note creeping into his deep voice.

“Yes?” she breathed, waiting...hoping. She felt his hand come up under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Their almond shape, exotic and unreadable, mesmerized her. Was he going to kiss her? Was he?

Chapter Thirteen

“I think it’s your turn to lead me. Remember?”

Jenny’s jaw dropped, and she stared at him for a confused moment.

“What?”

Clint’s lips twitched, and his shoulders began to shake.

“Did you think I was going to make a pass at you?” His full-bodied laugh would have delighted her had she not been so embarrassed.

She pulled her hands from his and smacked him on the arm.

“You rat! I certainly did not!”

He took her hands once again and pressed them. She remembered the sensation. His shoulders continued to shake sporadically.

“Not that I wouldn’t love to, but we are in public,” he said on a chuckle.

“That’s not going to happen, mister. So don’t even think about it.” Jenny slid her hands around his so that she held him. “Close your eyes now. We’re going for a walk,” she said in an ominous tone.

“Oh, dear.” He closed his eyes. “Be nice, Jenny.”

“I’ll be nice, all right. Just you wait.” She gave his hands a tug and none too gently walked him down the length of the creek bank, which ran behind several other small buildings fronted by small porches and plastic chairs. Perhaps other staff members stayed here...or the elders.

She reached the end of the buildings and debated whether to return the way they’d come or take him in a different direction. She could pull him toward the woods and end up on the path leading from the river back to camp.

“Are we there yet?” He stood before her, a white-toothed grin highlighting his face. She studied him for a moment, the angular line of his jaw, the famous Native American high cheekbones, an aquiline nose above full lips. The way his hair grew from a peak at the center of his forehead.

“Hello? Jenny? Not talking to me?”

She resisted the urge to run her fingers down the hollow of his neck.

“Oh, I’m talking, all right. I’m just trying to figure out where to drag you.”

“This is about trust now, Jenny. Remember? Trust?”

Jenny grinned at the hesitant sound in his voice. He stood before her vulnerable, no longer the confident man who brought a quake to her knees with a single glance from his dark eyes.

“You can trust me, Clint. Can’t you?” She began to walk backwards, pulling him with her as she walked toward the path running through the lodgepole pines.

“I don’t know. Can I, Jenny?”

“Why ever would you not?” she teased. The smile left his face.

“That depends. How do you feel about Steve?”

Jenny stopped so suddenly that Clint walked into her. She dropped his hands and jumped back.

“Steve! What?”

He opened his eyes and looked around.

“Just asking,” he shrugged. “It’s none of my business, certainly. Just that you two certainly seemed friendly down by the river. I was wondering if you two were...uh...”

A strange compulsion took hold of her. Why did he bring Steve into the equation?

“Well, you’re right. It isn’t any of your business. I’ve known you...what?...all of a whole day now.”

“Really. Just one day? It seems like longer than that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed the dirt path with the toe of his hiking boot.

Jenny sighed, the inexplicable moment of anger gone as soon as it arrived. It seemed like she had known Clint forever...and yet not at all.

“I’m sorry I snapped. That was rude. I—”

He shook his head and pulled his hands from his jeans.

“Not at all. I was being nosy.” He turned away. “Well, we’d better get back to the group room.”

Jenny bit her words back and followed him up the trail. She had been on the verge of telling him that Steve was interested in the woman named Lisa, but Clint’s quick dismissal of the subject prevented her from pursuing it any longer. And why should she have told him about Steve? It didn’t matter. She was only here for four more days, plus a night. Soon, she would never see Clint again, and her world would return to its predictable and comfortable patterns. It was so much easier to fantasize about love than to actually experience it.

Jenny’s eyes flew to the back of Clint’s head. His long, black hair gleamed when the sun broke through the trees. It swayed against his back, and she longed to grab the ponytail and pull him around to kiss her. She imagined the scene...and she struggled for breath. Clint’s pace was fast, but her thoughts were even faster.

She would go to the sweat tonight. Though an imagined vision of shedding her clothes and frolicking through the woods in the nude terrified her, the thought that Clint had rinsed off his body in the same water enticed her. She wanted to be close to him, to feel the water around her body that he had relaxed in.

They arrived back at the classroom in minimum time, and Clint discussed the exercise for a few moments before he dismissed the group. He stepped quickly out the door nearest him without a backward glance, and Jenny stared after him longingly.

“Oh, my girl. You’ve got it bad. Where did you two go?”

She dragged her gaze away from the empty doorway and met Kate’s sympathetic brown gaze.

“He led me to the creek over there behind the buildings. I didn’t even realize it was him.”

“You guys were gone longer than anyone else.”

Jenny winced, her face flaming as she looked at the faces of her fellow group members. No one threw peculiar looks in her direction, but that didn’t convince her that she hadn’t been noticed once again. She followed Kate out the door.

“Did anyone say anything? How embarrassing.”

“No. Why would anyone care? Well, except Celia, and I think she’s having a hard time shaking that George guy. He’s sticking to her like glue.”

“Really?” Jenny chuckled weakly. “Hey, I’m going up to the sweat. Starts in about half an hour. Are you going?”

“Oh yes, I’m going. Let’s go get changed. I guess we can skip the underwear, since we won’t be needing it up there anyway. Auntie Martha told me to take off any metal jewelry, as well, because it will get hot.”

“I’m going to be so nervous. So, I guess we’ll need towels.” Jenny tried to think of anything else she could cover herself with.

They changed quickly and left the cabin to walk up the hill. Brad and Tim waved from the porch of their cabin as they passed by. Jenny kept her face averted from the direction of Clint’s cabin on the left. Did he know she’d decided to go? Would he even care?

She walked up the gravel path with Kate, feeling as if she were nearing Clint in some way. Though he would not be there—it was the women’s sweat, after all—she had the oddest sensation that she could come closer to him at the sweat. He had been there just this morning. He would be there again in a few hours as the men took their turn after supper.

A small yellow flag on a short stick marked the fork in the path leading to the sweat lodges.

“Auntie Martha said they put that flag out when it’s the women’s time to sweat. Men are not supposed to come near.”

They turned onto the path and followed it through the trees to the clearing where the sweat lodges awaited them. Kate delighted in the small wooden bridge spanning the tiny creek that fed into the dark pond to the right. A roaring fire blazed ahead of them, and Jenny stopped short when she saw Clint. Kate moved ahead into the clearing, where several camp attendees and Native American women watched and waited while Clint threw more logs onto the fire, which glowed with the large, round rocks it heated.

Jenny moved forward to stand beside the women, wondering what to do.

“Come on, Clint. You’re late. We need to get going if we’re going to get some supper.” Auntie Sis crossed over the bridge and arrived with towel in hand, followed by Auntie Sara. The Native American women wore their hair loose down their backs over billowing loose smocks, no short, frisky, modern cuts for these gals.

Clint threw a last log on and wiped the back of his forehead with his sleeve. He caught Jenny’s eye and tilted his head in her direction with a quick smile.

“I’m going, Auntie Sis. I got held up and got a late start on the fire today. I think the rocks will be hot enough in a minute.”

“You know I like ’em nice and hot, Clint.” Auntie Sis patted him on the back and gave him a gentle shove toward the bridge. “Now, get going.” She laughed as he ducked his head and strode swiftly out of the clearing with a wave of his hand.

BOOK: Jenny Cussler's Last Stand
13.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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