A Family Under the Stars Page 7

  She made a little gasping sigh when he rolled off her and gathered her against his side. She nestled against him and for a quick second, he experienced a moment of panic that Charlotte Folsom was the post-coital snuggling type and might expect more from him than one night of lovemaking. Then he thought about how different their lives were and how smart Charlotte seemed to be. Nah. There was no way she was reading too much into this, and he shouldn’t be, either. This was definitely a one-time thing for her—for them both—and he might as well lie back and enjoy the comfort of sleeping in the great outdoors with a beautiful woman.

  His skin was damp with sweat and the cool air wasn’t doing either of them any favors. He tried to pull the top of the sleeping bag over them, then gave up when it wouldn’t reach.

  “Here,” she said, moving away from him and toward his empty bed. His initial instinct was to pull her back, to suggest that they sleep together. Then he realized how needy it would’ve sounded. In the end, he didn’t have to say anything, because she unzipped the other sleeping bag and spread it out over both of them. He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  “When I asked you what kinds of things people did at night while camping,” she said, scooting her rear end against him, “you never mentioned this.”

  Laughter burst out of Alex’s chest, the first time in a long time he could remember honestly feeling it so deeply. When she joined in, the throaty sound—or maybe the curve of her round bottom pressed so close to him—caused another shot of desire to ricochet throughout his body.

  He lifted her curly hair and kissed the nape of her neck, and then neither of them were laughing.

  * * *

  Despite making love for most of the night, Alex lazily woke up to the sound of chirping birds and the promise of a stunning sunrise. Charlotte was still asleep, or at least pretending to be, so he left the tent first thing to make use of the bushes and then start a fire. The smell of the camp smoke mingled with the cool, crisp mountain air and Alex took a deep breath, feeling more at home in this natural environment than he ever would in some fancy house.

  Not that anyone was offering him a fancy house.

  The unmistakable sound of shuffling and movement from inside the tent let him know that Charlotte was awake and reminded Alex that it would be a long day if she was feeling uncomfortable about what they’d done last night. He didn’t do well with tension or awkward silences, which was why he didn’t do serious relationships. Though he was always up-front with the women he casually dated and sometimes went to bed with, he’d never really stuck around once the sun came up.

  But when she emerged with her sleepy eyes and tousled hair, Alex couldn’t resist pulling her in for another kiss. He caught a glimpse of her smile before she pressed her hand over her mouth and mumbled that she needed to brush her teeth. So at least they’d gotten the initial embarrassing morning-after pleasantries out of the way.

  They both tended to their respective grooming needs, then met back at the campfire, where Alex gave her an even more thorough kiss and she responded with as much heat and passion as she had last night. There was nothing uncomfortable about the way she fit in his arms and then there was the fact that making out was way easier than talking. But as much as he wanted to spend the morning wrapped up with the beautiful and sensual woman, there was plenty of work around camp that needed to be done. When he finally pulled himself away he asked, “Can I make you some coffee?”

  “Why don’t I make you some?” she responded, matching spots of pink coloring her cheeks. “I’m not used to having anyone else cook in my kitchen.”

  Alex looked around at the small fire pit and the plastic tote bin of cooking supplies. “Your kitchen? My, aren’t you territorial.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and smiled unapologetically. “Mine. Mother Nature’s. Doesn’t matter. It gives me a sense of purpose and it’s one of the few things I’m good at out here.”

  “Actually, there’s something else you’re pretty good at,” he said, then nodded toward the opening of the tent.

  He expected another blush, but instead she replied, “That’s nothing compared to my coffee,” then grinned.

  Alex doubted anything could be better than what they’d done in that tent, but he was too busy enjoying this confident side of her. He sat back on the log and watched her dig through the bin of supplies and pull out a stainless steel percolator. Her movements were precise and decisive as she used bottled water and the fancy coffee grounds she must’ve packed for the trip. The only drawback to watching her work was seeing her use her smartphone to take pictures, since it reminded him that this wasn’t supposed to be some relaxing sex-filled vacation. It also reminded him that he’d crossed a line last night—a couple of times—when he would’ve preferred to go on forgetting that he was supposed to be acting in a professional capacity right about now. But there would be time enough for recriminations later. As long as he didn’t let things go any further.

  Man, he needed a healthy dose of caffeine if he was going to manage an ounce of common sense around this woman.

  The aroma coming from the percolator was enough to bring him to his knees and he watched as she deftly poured coffee into two tin mugs, then staged them on a tree stump next to a few loose pinecones. Charlotte bent down and snapped some more pictures. Just when Alex thought he was going to have to wrestle the phone away from her, she stood and handed him a cup before joining him on the log.

  “Still no service,” she said, wiggling the electronic device before setting it down between them. But she didn’t look as worried as she had yesterday. In fact, she looked well rested and well loved. Her face was tilted up toward the clear sky, which was still tinted with shades of orange and pink and her smile was as pure as the sunrise. “It’s even more beautiful out here today than it was yesterday.”

  He picked up her phone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. She held her coffee in both hands, blowing on it before taking a sip.

  “Taking a picture of you.”

  She shifted her cup and ran some fingers through her hair. “Why?”

  “Because I just realized that you were the one behind the camera yesterday, which means there aren’t any photos of you. Your readers might enjoy seeing exactly how gorgeous you are first thing in the morning.”

  “Trust me,” she said, pointing to the messy curls piled on her head. “Nobody wants to see this.”

  “I want to see it,” he said simply, then tapped on the shutter button.

  She rolled her eyes. “I bet Martha Stewart never gets stranded on a river with her hair all a mess and no make-up.”

  “Well, if she did, I bet her coffee wouldn’t be half as good as yours.” It was true. The taste was bold with layers of rich flavor and a smooth finish. He would’ve said as much but he didn’t want to sound like a pretentious snob.

  “I’ll tell her you said so. If I’m ever lucky enough to be in the same room as her.” She leaned over and pressed her lips on his quickly. “You do wonders for my ego, you know.”

  Warming up, Alex smiled. “I also bet Martha Stewart’s kisses aren’t half as good as yours, either.” Then he pulled her in for another make-out session.

  Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and with the fresh shot of caffeine traveling through his bloodstream and the thumping of his heartbeat, Alex realized they might go for round four out here in the wide open. Wait. That wasn’t his heartbeat. That was...

  He broke away just as a helicopter rose above the copse of trees behind them.

  Charlotte jumped up, knocking her cup over and frantically waved her hands above her head. “We’re down here,” she shouted several times, and Alex was too choked up with annoyance over the timing of the Forestry Department’s arrival to point out that the chopper pilot couldn’t hear her.

  He dug his booted foot
into the still-damp ground as if he were one of the kids on his little league team who’d been tagged out at second base. He wasn’t ready to be rescued yet. They’d only had one night together, and once they returned to civilization, all of this would be over.

  “Why are they just hovering over us like that?” she yelled. “Don’t they see us?”

  “The clearing is too small for them to land. They’re probably holding their position so that the rest of the rescue team knows where we are.”

  Just then, a Polaris RZR broke through the bushes. The all-terrain vehicle was splattered with layers of mud and Alex guessed the Forestry Department had spent quite some time yesterday evening looking for them. Commodore was strapped into the passenger seat and, with his perpetual frown and his arms crossed over his stocky body, looked almost disappointed that they’d found them so early in the day. His grandfather loved the thrill of a good search and rescue mission and it hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours yet.

  Alex recognized the driver as one of the fish and game wardens and waved as they drove up. The relief on Charlotte’s face was obvious, and as soon as the men asked them what had happened, she turned into a chatterbox, talking a mile a minute. Which was good, because Alex wasn’t ready to quit pouting just yet. A couple of forest rangers in another off-road vehicle pulled up, along with Scooter and Jonesy, two old cowboys and volunteer firefighters, riding in on horseback.

  What was once their serene and romantic clearing in the woods was now the center of a damn party. The obnoxiously loud helicopter finally flew off and Alex started taking down their tent, the routine work distracting him from answering questions and thinking about how excited Charlotte was now that all these people were here—how eager she was to get away from him. A walkie-talkie crackled to life and a ranger spoke into the thing before passing it to her. At the sound of her friend’s voice on the end, the strong woman he’d just spent the night with burst into tears.

  Suddenly, his gut dropped with guilt. What kind of selfish jerk would mope around like he had, wishing they could’ve stayed out here another day? Of course she was worried about her children and her magazine article and her perfect life back home. And he couldn’t blame her.

  Alex just wished he could’ve held on to her a little longer.

  Chapter Five

  The all-terrain vehicle was like a golf cart on steroids and their ride through the forest of towering pines was rocky and unsettling, each jarring bump playing havoc with Charlotte’s nerves. She was harnessed into the backseat beside Alex, and when they hit a small boulder, she grabbed his leg and clung to him. He stroked her hand and she relaxed her fingers enough for him to lift her palm up and place it in his own.

  Her emotions—along with the ATV—bounced all over the place. Seeing that helicopter had flooded Charlotte with relief. Then, when the off-road rescue vehicle showed up, she’d been brought to tears. Logically, she’d known all along that she had been perfectly safe with Alex and that eventually someone would find them. But Charlotte hadn’t been fully convinced that all was well until she’d heard Kylie’s voice crackling through the walkie-talkie. That was when she’d known the ordeal was over and that she’d get to see her children again soon.

  A couple of older gentlemen on horseback offered to stay behind and clean up their temporary shelter, and Charlotte and Alex were whisked away—back toward civilization. Yet, holding hands with her stiff and stoic river guide in the back of this off-road machine, she also realized that their return meant their short-lived love affair was over. A small part of her heart deflated in disappointment because she’d likely never see him again after this.

  For the past twenty or so minutes, the only sound she’d heard was the revving engine of their souped-up rescue vehicle. Then, as they approached the ranger station, the wailing of a siren caught her attention and she spotted several white news vans. Alex’s firm grip around her fingers was slightly reassuring, but he still didn’t say anything. And, really, what was there to say?

  “What’s with all the cameras and reporters?” she shouted, trying not to flash back to the worse day of her life. Five years ago, she’d come home from the park one day, pregnant and with a one-year-old in tow, to a similar scene surrounding her stately family home. But that time, her husband was being led away in handcuffs.

  The driver yelled over his shoulder. “Press found out a couple of people went missing last night and they’ve been camped out here to report on the rescue mission.”

  “But we were gone less than twenty-four hours,” Alex finally spoke up. “That’s not exactly newsworthy.”

  Commodore huffed. “It is when the editor of Fine Tastes magazine starts calling all his news cronies.”

  Oh, geez. Charlotte should’ve known Neal would’ve jumped on the opportunity to sensationalize this story. She scanned the crowd for her boss and anyone else from her magazine crew. However, her eyes didn’t get far after landing on a tall redheaded woman heading their way, two little girls running in front of her.

  “Mommy!” Elsa cried the second the driver stopped. The six-year-old launched herself onto Charlotte’s lap.

  “Peep! Peep!” Audrey shrieked. Her younger daughter held one arm akimbo and the other curved upward.

  “She thinks she’s a teapot,” Elsa said, and rolled her eyes. “She won’t come up here unless you lift her by her handle.”

  Charlotte gave her older child another tight squeeze before unstrapping herself and climbing out. She picked up Audrey, who was prone to imagining herself as inanimate objects and then going into such deep character, she refused to talk. “A teapot, huh?”

  “Peep,” the little girl said before collapsing into a fit of giggles as her mother tickled her. She pulled Elsa in for a three-way hug, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. Charlotte had tried not to let her own imagination get away from her, but in the past twenty-four hours, there had been several times when she worried that she’d never see her sweet children again. She kissed their round cheeks and stroked their matching brown hair, drinking in the scent of their watermelon-scented shampoo.

  An ambulance was backed up and a pair of medics rolled a gurney over to them. “Did you get hurt, Mommy?” Elsa asked, her big hazel eyes wide with fascination. Her oldest was overly curious and Charlotte didn’t want to give the child any reason to worry.

  “Nope.” Charlotte kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Mr. Russell kept me perfectly safe and sound.”

  “I just bet he did,” Kylie Gregson said, her tone a little too smug, her smile a little too knowing. The tilt of her friend’s perfectly arched brow caused a thread of guilt to coil around Charlotte’s stomach. Certainly it wasn’t that obvious that she and Alex had done more than just sleep in a tent together.

  “Who’s Mr. Russell?” Elsa asked. “The guy with the little stick in his mouth?”

  “That’s Commodore Russell,” Kylie explained. “The younger Mr. Russell is his hunky grandson. Come on. I’ll introduce you to them while the paramedics take a look at your mom.”

  “Peep, peep, peep?” the little teapot called out.

  “Audrey wants to know what hunky means,” Elsa translated, loudly enough for Alex and the rest of the news cameras to hear, as she and her sister followed a laughing Kylie.

  Charlotte, wishing she could sink into a hole to escape her embarrassment, allowed the female paramedic to assist her into the back of the ambulance. Although she felt perfectly fine—physically, at least—the enclosed vehicle would provide a small amount of privacy so she could make her emotions—if not her hair—presentable again. She answered the medic’s questions and was surprised to find that her blood pressure was a bit elevated. Her pulse was also above normal—although whose wouldn’t be in this situation?—and she was starting to get hungry, but otherwise, Charlotte was perfectly healthy.

  “We’re goin
g to give you a ride to Shadowview,” said the woman, whose name was Garcia, according to her ID badge. “It’s the nearest hospital.”

  Charlotte shivered and tried not to think about her appendix surgery when she was eleven years old. Her daughters had been born at a state-of-the-art birthing center, and besides attending a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new reconstructive surgery wing named after her mother at Bay Area General, she avoided hospitals at all costs. The thought that she might be admitted—and separated from her girls again—caused a knot of panic to wedge in her throat. “But I feel fine,” Charlotte explained.

  “And you look fine. But it’s procedure to run some tests and have you screened by a doctor, just in case.”

  “Is Mr. Russell going, too?” Charlotte hoped her voice didn’t sound needy.

  “You mean Alex?” Garcia was an attractive woman, and since she was from the same small town, it would only be natural for her to be on a first-name basis with the guy. But that didn’t stop Charlotte’s scalp from prickling with a sense of jealousy. All she could manage was a nod.

  “Yep. He’ll have to get medically cleared, too. In fact, since you’re both able to walk and sit on your own, we’ll probably transport you together, if neither of you mind.” Garcia looked past her. “And speak of the devil.”

  Charlotte whipped around so quickly, she knocked her elbow into the defibrillator case mounted beside her. Alex stood at the open back doors, the other paramedic next to him.

  “You got room in here for one more?” he asked.

  “As long as it’s you and not your cranky old grandfather,” Garcia said, then extended her hand to help pull him up into the rig. “Commodore still hasn’t forgiven me for making him wear that oxygen mask after he competed in the log-rolling contest at the Lake Rush Lumberjack Games last year.”