Little Miss Lovesick (3 page)

Emily glanced at me and back at Matt. She whispered in a singsong, “Somebody likes you. Somebody likes you.”

Little Miss Lovesick grinned inside.

CHAPTER 3

AS WE moved our belongings from the van to the bunkhouse, I breathed in the pine-scented air. Ahh. I looked around at the buildings snuggled into the woods as if the trees had morphed into a welcoming home for those who needed to leave their troubles behind. No cars, no planes, no noise — just birds and breezes.

Poetically sappy. That’s me.

Em and I dropped our stuff into a room, then explored a bit. The front third of the building was a kitchen, the middle third was a dining area, and the last portion was a living room kind of area. A huge stone fireplace served to separate the dining and living rooms. Since it was summer and too warm for an indoor fire, you could look right through the fireplace into the other room. In fact, if you bent down a bit, you coul
d
wal
k
through it.

On the two long walls of the bunkhouse were eight small rooms, four on each wall, with two sets of bunk beds each. In each corner of the building were bathrooms. Two were clearly marked “Women,” and the other two had a large piece of paper taped over the door with “Ladies” written in black magic marker. I bet there were urinals in the “Ladies” rooms.

Only a few trophies decorated the living area. There was a huge fish (don’t ask me what kind, but it had teeth), a massive rack of antlers, and a beautiful black bear skin. The décor was understated wilderness: hewn beams and muted colors.

The biggest surprise was the upright piano against one wall. I walked over and played a C chord. It was even in tune. The opening bars of “Piano Man” skittered across my mind, chased quickly away by a desire to preserve my dignity. I wasn’t good enough to play in public.

We saw that the other women chose to finish unpacking before relaxing, so Em and I went back to our room to do the same. I was relieved we didn’t have to triple up with anyone. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I just might have to thumb a ride home if I had to be caged up with someone who snores.

When I leaned over to unzip my suitcase, something hit me in the back of the head. “Hey!” A bag of Reese’s Pieces landed on my sleeping bag. I turned to look at Em.

“Ta-daa!” With a triumphant look, she opened a Walmart bag to show me a dozen more Reese’s Pieces and a dozen Hershey bars. Our favorites.

“Ah, you know how to make a girl happy,” I said and tore open the package, choosing to ignore the Voice that was counting calories. Maybe I’d start my low-sugar diet after the candy ran out. I changed into a dry T-shirt, tossed the flannel shirt on top of my suitcase, and Em and I fell back onto our bunks to eat our candy.

“Seriously, Sydney, our cute fishing guide was definitely hitting on you.”

“Which is precisely the reason I don’t like him already.” Technically, I was lying. He seemed nice enough. But I needed to put a stop to Em’s ideas.

“Yeah, right, I forget how that works. Only flirt with guys who ignore you. I always get that one wrong.”

I threw an orange peanut butter candy in her direction. “I didn’t come up here to flirt, I came up here to heal. Rebound relationships rarely last because they’re rarely healthy. I’ll get healthy
,
the
n
start…you know, dating.” It felt weird to say it. When I moved to Traverse City, I assumed I’d never have to date again.

“Quoting another Internet guru? I’m telling you, flirtin
g
i
s
a healthy way to move on. Trust me.”

Listen to he
r
, urged Little Miss Lovesick.

I’ll admit, it did feel good to have the attention of a seemingly nice and definitely attractive man. And we were only here for the weekend. If Emily was wrong, we’d be safely home again in three days and I’d never see him again.

I sat up on my bunk and stared hard at Em. “You really think it’d be good for me?” Even though she didn’t have a boyfriend right now, she always seemed so confident when it came to relationships.

“Healthy and harmless.” She crossed a finger over her heart. “I swear.”

I ate some more of my candy, pairing up the brown ones with either an orange or a yellow and eating them two at a time. After a minute, I said, “Okay, I guess.” I looked up at Em again. “But don’t get pushy, okay?”

She grinned. “You’re going to feel so much better. Come on, let’s go outside.”

We wandered out and sat on the porch swing. It was in good shape, but it looked old. I liked that.

“This is the life, huh?” said Emily.

“Mmm,” I said as we set the swing in motion.

We both leaned back and closed our eyes. The breeze tickled the leaves and rustled them like quiet wind chimes. I smiled. I just might have to sit here the whole weekend.

Footsteps sounded down the porch. They got closer until they stopped and I heard another chair creak nearby.

“Ah, this is the life, huh, girls?” Patty’s voice floated over and we giggled without opening our eyes or changing the rhythm of the rocker.

“I just said those exact same words,” murmured Emily.

Creak, swish, creak, swish. The rocker lulled us into a lazy peacefulness. It fel
t
so
o
wonderful. A few minutes later, more footsteps sounded on the grass, getting closer. I opened one eye and saw Matt coming toward us.

Patty waved. “Matt, this is wonderful. You and Ted have outdone yourselves.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Matt said as he turned toward us and stopped. “I guess you were right about the swing.” He put one foot on the bottom step and leaned against the railing, nodding toward Em and me.

His wavy dark hair was tousled and messy. His eyes and his mouth always seemed to be smiling. I liked people who smiled a lot. Normally, I’m one of them. I thought about Em’s suggestion that I do a little flirting. How do you start again? I noticed his biceps and forearms were tanned and covered in muscle. Nice, but I couldn’t really say, hi, so how’d you get all those muscles?

He is so sex
y
, crooned Little Miss Lovesick.

I closed my eyes again. Too relaxed to argue. Especially about that.

Patty laughed. “I didn’t unpack quickly enough.”

“Did you want to sit here?” I asked. I turned toward Patty, poised to get up.

“I can trade with you if you want,” Emily volunteered.

Matt grinned and Patty laughed. “No, no, no. You girls enjoy it. I’m fine for now.”

“Patty and my uncle argued all winter about whether he should bring up this swing. He insisted no one would sit on it, but it looks like he was wrong.”

“It used to be in my backyard. But we got a new one and I couldn’t think of a better place for that one than up here. Worst case, I’d sit in it every time I came up.”

“You all know each other then?” Emily finally opened both eyes.

“Oh, where’re my manners? Matt this is Sydney Riley and Emily Dodson.” The three of us murmured our acknowledgements. “Matt’s mother and I were best friends all through school.”

“And you still are?” I said.

“Well, she died when Matt was a boy.” Patty smiled in a motherly way at Matt and he smiled back. Smiles tinged with a bit of sadness. It made my heart ache a little. Seemed I was sensitive t
o
anyon
e
losing someone they loved.

“Are you going to build our little fire?” Patty asked, eyeing the bag in Matt’s arms.

“I can’t build a little fire. I can only build towering bonfires.” Matt’s eyes sparkled and Patty laughed. Her eyes widened and she said, “I know!” like there was a story there somewhere.

“What’s in the bag?” Emily asked.

“Hot dogs, condiments, s’more fixin’s, napkins—” Matt peered inside as he listed the contents.

“S’mores?” Emily interrupted. She stopped rocking and we looked at each other and smiled. “Hey, I know you probably need to get that fire started and, you know, watch it and all. We’ll set up the supplies for you, if you like.” She elbowed me.

The supplies Emily referred to were, of course, the s'mores makings. If you haven't eaten s'mores on a summer's evening, you haven't lived. A big fluffy marshmallow toasted over an open fire until it was golden brown, then pressed between two graham crackers with a big square of Hershey's chocolate. Yum. So good, you always wanted "some more."

For s’mores, I could pretend to flirt. “We’re very good at setting up supplies,” I said in a mock serious tone. “We set up supplies all the time, don’t we, Em?”

“All the time,” she echoed, standing up. “Patty, don’t you think he needs help setting up the supplies?”

Patty waved her hand at us and laughed. “I’m sure he’d love your help. You all go start dinner”—she got up from her chair—“and I’ll reintroduce my seat to that old rocker.”

“Well, if you want to.” Matt looked at me like he wondered if I was going to play nice or not. I smiled brightly at him, hoping that was the right amount of flirtatiousness. He smiled and made a manly grunting sound, then led the way to the fire pit.

“Are you ladies enjoying the U.P. so far?” Matt asked as we walked along.

If you’re not familiar with Michigan, it’s surrounded by the Great Lakes so both land masses are called peninsulas. The Lower Peninsula is where Traverse City is, where I live. The Upper Peninsula is bordered by Canada on the north, and it’s mostly just called the U.P.

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” said Emily. “The flowers and the scenery — and we saw a bear on the way here! Very cool.”

Matt smiled at her contagious enthusiasm. (Everyone does.) “What about you?” He turned to look at me. His expression was kind and gentle. For a second, I wanted to put my hand in his and walk for a very long time. Not Little Miss Lovesick. Me. I wondered what Patty had said to him. Why else would he look at me that way?

I mentally shook myself and decided to go the witty route. “Hmm, I’ve found it to be”—I looked away—“damp and sticky.” I looked back to find the tug of a grin beginning around his mouth. I felt a bit of a tug around my mouth, too. I was tired of being mad at people. In fact, the little relaxation I’d gotten on the porch swing had helped a lot. There was no reason not to be friends. Or at least friendly. We’ll see about flirtatious later.

“Damp and sticky, huh?”

I noticed below his lovely blue eyes, a day or two of whiskers covered his cheeks. I never had to push Dirk to shave every day because he’s the kind of guy who wants to look professional seven days a week. I like kissing a clean-shaven man better than one with whiskers. But there was a certain charm to Matt’s unshaven state.

“Any chance of improvement in the forecast?” he asked.

I tried to act like I was thinking. “Mm, I think tonight is expected to be a vast improvement. A fire, food, fun — and s’more food.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Definitely, s’more food is in the forecast,” Emily chimed in. “Which will likely lead to s’more fun.”

Matt laughed. “Okay, point taken. I’ll get that fire going.”

We’d walked down a wide trail in the woods and into a small clearing. A firepit the size of a small car was in the middle. There were huge logs around it that I assumed were for sitting on because a piled of chopped firewood waited to one side. A couple picnic tables made up the balance of the man-made objects. The simple setting was perfect.

Matt dropped the bag of groceries on the nearest picnic table and walked over to the pile of wood, grabbing some smaller pieces. “Either of you know how to start a fire?”

Emily pulled the hot dog buns out of the top of the bag. She looked at me and grinned as she answered. “Sydney knows how to build a great fire.” My eyebrows rose. We had a gas fireplace at my parents’ house. You flipped a switch and had a fire. “She used to be a Girl Scout,” Em finished.

“No, I, uh, that was a long time ago.” I made
a
what are you doing
?
face at Emily. She nodded her head in Matt’s direction. Thankfully he wasn’t looking our way
.
Stop it
!
I mouthed with a glare. Building fires was one of the many things I di
d
no
t
learn how to do in Girl Scouts. This smelled like an Emily setup to me.

“Come help me get this thing going and you’ll have your s’mores in no time,” he said as he arranged the kindling in the bottom of the pit.

This is the point in the movie when the audience yells, “No! Don’t do it!” But like all movie heroines, I blindly moved forward, not knowing that this moment just might be the beginning of the end.

I walked over to Matt, feeling a little stupid, and stood there watching him. He took a long-nosed lighter like people use to light their fireplaces and started dry leaves and grass burning under some twigs.

“Hand me some more of that kindling,” he said. He pointed behind him to a little pile of sticks. I squatted down and handed them over, and he fed the growing fire.

What is it about a T-shirt and jeans that is such a turn-on? Twice in one day, I was admiring this man’s very fine rear end. Women complain about being ogled like a sex object, but we do a pretty good job of doing the same thing to men.