Rolling my eyes, I ripped the burlap off, then dropped in the tree. I watched him scoop in dirt around the roots until the hole was filled halfway. Then he poured in some water to, in his words, settle the soil and release any air pockets. I was allowed to shove in the rest of the dirt, crouching and sinking my fingers into the soft soil, patting it smooth around the edges.
Now, if I was gay, wouldn’t I be bemoaning the ruin of my manicure? Further proof. I’d never gotten one and had no plans ever to.
I kneeled there on the ground, arm brushing the smooth, warm skin of Kieran’s, as he built a soil berm to form a depression around the edge. He filled the depression with water several times but we couldn’t complete the whole thing because Molly was bogarting the mulch. I really didn’t know why the hell we needed mulch anyway.
I reached over for the water bucket, my shoulder pressing against his, our hands colliding. There was eye contact for the briefest moment, breath held suspended in my throat, and I watched that strong hand tremble infinitesimally before he clenched his jaw resolutely and steadied it.
Would he ever let loose? Did I even want him to?
Cursing under my breath, I stood up and surveyed our handiwork.
My tree was lopsided but it was in there. A sense of pride unfurled inside me. I glanced up at the clear blue sky, seeing a lone cloud skitter across the sun. Shit, with me out here, that cloud would be joined by others, darker and bigger ones, and rain would pelt us and ruin the whole weekend. As much as I didn’t want to be out here in the wilderness I also didn’t want this torturous experience exacerbated by rain.
There, I helped replenish your ranks, I thought. Or maybe I was beseeching. How about a temporary reprieve here?
In answer, that lone cloud soared away, becoming thin and wispy before entirely dissipating. Huh. Maybe Mother Nature had heeded my call, after all. Who knew you could bargain with the vengeful bitch?
Grinning, I returned my gaze to Kieran, finding he was watching me again. My breath caught, grin slowly slipping away. Those damn eyes, so blue, so intense, penetrated deep and gripped my soul in a crushing, bruising fist. His lips parted and I expected words to emerge but instead he shook his head and glanced down again. I hid my disappointment well.
Stupid disappointment.
We worked in silence, packing up the small shovel and scattering the leftover dirt around the trees, and each quick brush of our bodies was ratcheting up my awareness of the man. Ratcheting up my arousal, my horror and even my curiosity. I was on the damn brink. Of what, an orgasm or a fucking existential crisis, I couldn’t tell you. All I knew was that my throbbing, aching dick was weeping for a touch and I didn’t think my own would appease it.
After another of those tantalizing brushes of our fingers as we were both reaching for the burlap to dispose of, I finally had to ask, “Are you gay?”
His eyes flicked over but he remained infuriatingly neutral. “Are you?” he countered quietly.
I opened my mouth but swallowed the instant refusal I’d had formulated. It was garbled up in my throat, anyway. Somehow, any evasions or outright lies that worked on Molly and even myself wouldn’t work on Kieran. I met his impenetrable, icy eyes and the dreaded admission slipped free of its own accord. “I don’t know,” I whispered brokenly.
Fuck. That right there was really the crux of all my problems, wasn’t it?
******
My confession, however lame it was, hung over me the rest of the day. A dark, abysmal cloud threatening great bouts of rain far worse than any the sky could unleash. But every once in a while, my eyes would meet Kieran’s and no matter the distance, the constriction around my chest would lessen.
After a while I stopped looking over at him. Better to suffocate myself than allow him to relieve this self-doubt or insecurity or whatever the hell this was.
As full night descended, a chill settled over us, too, and Kieran quickly and efficiently built a fire. We huddled around and Molly made a bag of marshmallows materialize out of thin air, distributing them and some twigs. I attempted to roast my marshmallows but after losing six of them to the greedy flames I finally conceded defeat and flung my twig into the fiery trenches.
Just as I did that, this horrendous screech startled the silent night, save for the crackling of the logs and the chirping of nearby bugs. It sounded like a woman screaming bloody fucking murder.
I jerked upright, whipping my head from side to side, and I didn’t need a mirror to know my face had blanched and my eyes were as big as saucers.
“Coyotes,” Kieran explained softly.
Funny, his explanation didn’t settle my nerves. I remained tense, wary, my gaze skittering around the dark surroundings, the trees only silhouettes and somehow foreboding, their branches like skeletal appendages swaying eerily in the breeze. Reaching for me. Grasping.
I was beyond relieved when Molly announced it was time to turn in.
“Make sure you get rid of all the food out here,” Kieran said. “We don’t need bears sniffing around.”
My eyes widened. “B-bears?”
“Yeah, black bears,” Molly told me. “They have a keen sense of smell and a heightened memory for food. They’ll break into cars if anything even resembling food is inside. They can even recognize the shape of coolers.”
Um, gulp.
My gaze skittered around again, peering into the darkness, and when some leaves rustled it was like a fire was lit under my ass. I jumped up, shooting for the cabin in giant, leaping bounds, falling through the door. I do believe I broke some world records there. Cowardly Lion Syndrome in all its glory.
Kieran, Molly and Rick straggled behind me, and before I could get swept up staring at Kieran, I called first dibs on the shower. Snatching up my bag, I skedaddled up the stairs to the loft, enclosing myself inside the bathroom. There was a pretty rustic feel to the bathroom, a lot of earth tones, with a glass shower stall sporting about six showerheads. Pulsating jets and all. I nearly drooled.
Stripping, I powered up the jets, stepping beneath the scalding spray. Steam quickly fogged up the room, my skin nearly blistering, but I preferred my showers on the verge of giving me third degree burns. I didn’t feel clean otherwise. Interpret that however you wanted.
I bowed my head, dripping strands of brown hair hanging in my face and droplets clinging to my eyelashes, allowing the pounding jets to soothe all the kinks and knots bunching up my muscles. I felt the tension drain out of me, letting it gurgle down the drain with the water. The sweat, the tension, it all washed away. If only I could get rid of that stupid, unflagging erection doing an impressive ten-hut.
Groaning, I quickly lathered and rinsed, shutting off the water and toweling dry. Cinching the towel around my hips, I wiped off the steam on the mirror, meeting the blurry, distorted reflection of my own face. There was an unnatural flush to my cheeks from the water, my brown eyes impossibly wide. And was that an expectant gleam there? They fucking shined.