Little Miss Lovesick (4 page)

Matt backed up a couple steps as the fire burned higher. I nearly fell over in my haste to get out of his way. The contact I was trying to avoid happened anyway when he reached down and clasped my wrist, pulling me up. “Why don’t you move back a step. The fire’s going to be hot soon.”

Soon? The calluses on his hand tickled the inside of my wrist. I think the fire is too hot already. I was torn between trying a little flirting per Emily’s suggestion or backing up and getting away, far away. My not-yet-healed heart made the decision. I pulled back.

“Looks like you’ve got it going, so…I’ll just see if Emily needs any help.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before Emily called, “Oh, I’ve got it under control here. Matt, you need Syd to help you with anything else?”

Matt tossed another couple pieces of wood on the fire and backed up a little more. He looked over his shoulder at me and said, “Wanna help make some hot dog skewers?”

“Sure. What do you want me to do?” I tried to sound cheerful, easy-going, not at all intimidated by his presence or the fact that he was asking me to help with something I was clueless about. Hot dog skewers. How hard can that be? I could keep a comfortable distance between us. It’d be fine.

He pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and took a long, green stick from a pile on the ground. Unfolding the knife, he grabbed the end of the stick and, with a few clean hard swipes, had a perfect skewer for hot dog roasting and marshmallow toasting.

“Okay?” He smiled and handed me the knife and another stick.

I gulped and took the knife very carefully from him. Concentrate on the task at hand. Don’t think about his smile. I have a task. I can focus. This is good. I took a swipe at the stick. Not bad. I can do this.

I glanced up as Matt happened to look my way. He smiled. I smiled back. If a butterfly flaps its wings in your stomach, will there be a storm?

I looked back at the stick I held and took another swipe with the knife. Yes, concentration is good. The stick is looking fine. Just have a little knot here. Careful. I’ll cut it the other way.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Matt lean over, grab another log, and toss it onto the fire. The muscles in his arms were amazing.

I pressed too hard with the knife. It hit the knot and went flying along the wood toward my hand. Matt turned to me just as I nearly cut my thumb off.

“Whoa, there!” He jumped toward me and grabbed both of my hands in his, holding the knife hand away and looking closely at the thumb I nearly lost. “You okay?”

He’s quite a bit taller than me and he’d bent down to examine my hands for blood and missing digits. His face was very close to mine. I looked for the telltale ring around his irises that would prove he’s wearing blue contacts.

“Fine. I’m fine.” I felt like I was stuttering. “There was a knot.” I held up the stick, but I was still looking in his eyes. No contacts. Real blue eyes. I felt his hands holding mine
.
Tha
t
was contact. I pulled away. After all, I didn’t know this guy. He could be a total lunatic.

He’s not a lunatic, he works her
e
, said a Voice.

Remembe
r
The Shining, said another.

Patty knows him, so he must be safe.

But I don’t feel safe. I feel like I’m being slowly electrocuted
.
That Voice certainly had the right of it.

Matt let go of my hands and stood to my left, explaining to me how to safely sharpen the end of a stick with a knot in it. But there were too many other Voices and I couldn’t concentrate. I pulled the knife down the end of the stick and hit the knot again.

“Hold on, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Before I knew it, his right arm was around my back and holding my right hand. His left hand covered mine and he moved the knife smoothly over the wood.

I’d always wanted Dirk to teach me something in a romantic gesture like this. Like what you see in the movies. A man’s arms around the woman he cares for, showing her how to swing a golf club or swing a tennis racket or…

Or sharpen a hot dog stick. Oh geez, he smells good. I closed my eyes for a moment. Like sunshine and spices and…and fire. Matt shifted his weight. I could feel his entire body behind me. His breath moved my hair, which tickled my ear.

“You see?” he said. He moved the knife again, my hand still held in his.

Should I say no so he’ll stay
?
The Voice in my head seemed logical to me.

I know he was just helping me sharpen a stick without cutting my hand off. I know that. But i
t
fel
t
like being held. And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been held. I don’t know if I moved closer or he did. But as the knife continued to move up and down the stick, I felt his body wrap around mine. I closed my eyes again, feeling content for the first time in months.

The knife stopped moving. I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. A bolt of electricity raced through my body. He must’ve felt it, too, because he pulled away suddenly with a surprised look in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “And, uh, that’s how you, uh, yeah…”

CHAPTER 4

I’D LIKE to say that the next day, the first day of fishing lessons, I showed no ill effects from playing with fire the night before. But the alarm went off before the sun rose, and Em and I were talking until only a few hours earlier. One particular subject dominated the conversation, a subject that I was about to spend a good part of the day with again.

What I really wanted to do was hide under my pillow and let the world take its course without me. As appealing as that sounded, I didn’t want anyone to think I had in any way been affected by — well, by anything or an
y
on
e
. Besides, Em was right. I’d spent too much time crying in bed the last few months. Today was the second day of my plan to heal myself if it killed me.

I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, splashed cold water on my face — very cold, which woke me up a little — and felt my way in the darkness to the porch. Shelley was dozing leaning against a beam and Patty looked asleep in the rocker. Emily followed me out a minute later, looking a bit more awake. We sat down on the porch steps to wait for Matt.

Em and I both wore new khaki shorts with cargo pockets. Emily — of course! — insisted on buying them at Dunham's Sports when we bought the sleeping bags. I was trying to decide if I was just tired or if it was too cold for only a T-shirt. Surely it would warm up soon. I checked to see if Em wore a sweatshirt.

“Do you have makeup on?” I asked, thinking I was too tired to see straight.

“No,” she said. “Just some mascara and eye shadow.”

“Right, just what’s absolutely necessary for pre-dawn fly-fishing.” I didn’t have it in me to put on makeup before dawn on vacation. I could just see myself sticking my eye with a mascara wand.

She leaned her head on my shoulder and said, “Shut up” as she closed her eyes.

I saw movement in the morning shadows and watched Matt materialize. I didn’t even realize there was ground fog until he walked through it. With a little imagination, he reminded me of Aragorn in th
e
Lord of the Ring
s
movies, coming to save his people. The thought made me smile.

Matt caught me watching him — I was probably the only one with my eyes open so it couldn’t have been difficult — and mistakenly thought I was smiling at him. He smiled back. I blurted out “Good morning, Aragorn” in a tired mumble. I have no filter when I’m tired.

He winked at me. “Morning. Ready to go fishing?”

I grunted. “What, we don’t look ready to you?”

“I think,” he said, sitting on the porch next to me, “that you ladies stayed up past your bedtime last night.”

Yeah, stayed up talking about you, Mr. Stud Muffin. I pretended indifference to the nerve endings firing throughout my body. I could feel the heat radiating from him and thought I should probably go get a sweatshirt because it felt really nice.

“You mean, this morning. We stayed up past our bedtim
e
thi
s
mornin
g
.”

“Ouch,” he said with a mock pained expression.

Without moving from my shoulder, Emily mumbled, “It had to be done. That’s what vacations are for. That’s what girlfriends are for.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad I don’t have one because I, for one, got a wonderful night’s sleep and I’m ready to catch some fish.” He nudged my knee with his.

Emily sat up and yawned. Patty and Shelley stretched and ambled down the steps.

“Anyone else coming?” he asked. He started distributing the fishing poles that I hadn’t noticed were leaning against the porch railing. He must’ve brought them down earlier. Wow, talk about an early riser.

“Wait for us, we’re coming.” Tracey and Janice came through the door, rubbing their eyes and pulling their hair back.

“This morning,” Matt began, “we’re starting late because I need the light to show you how to tie on the flies. It’s pretty overcast right now so it’ll be hard to see, but we’ll manage. Tomorrow, I’ll be down here at five for anyone who wants a good shot at catching some big fish.”

“We’re going to be here at five sharp,” Emily whispered to me amid the groans of the other women.

Like I’m really going to get up at 4:30. On a Sunday morning. So glad this is only a weekend trip. I’m going to have to go back to work to recover.

“The poles I’ve given you are based on your height, so try to hang on to the same one. At Patty’s suggestion, I decided to have you all use artificial lures instead of live bait, so there’s no reason not to learn how to tie on your own flies.”

Memory of the movement under the plastic lid yesterday whizzed through my mind. Yuck. Why did I come on a fishing trip without even thinking about whether I would enjoy fishing?

To get away from thinking about Dirk.

Oh yeah. Well, speaking of not thinking about him…

“There’s a lot of fish in our little stream,” Matt continued. “I hope I can help you each catch a few. But trust me, they aren’t going to jump up and volunteer to be your dinner.”

We all chuckled. An image of a fish that looked like Horshack fro
m
Welcome Back Kotte
r
popped into my mind. “Oo, oo, oo! Pick me! I want to be your dinner!” I released a tired giggle. Emily looked at me and mouthed “What?” I just shook my head.

“All right. Ready to have some fun?” Matt asked.

“You’re excessively chipper this morning,” said Shelley with a yawn. “I think everyone else is sleepwalking.”

“Well, the fish are awake and they’re hungry. Let’s go get some breakfast, ladies.”

We followed Matt down a path behind the lodge. I tripped twice on the way. (I was tired, and it was dark. I’m no
t
tha
t
clumsy.) The third time I tripped, I nearly landed on my face. Matt turned around just in time to grab me and set me back on my feet.

“You okay?” He didn’t let go of my arm.

“Fine. It’s dark.” I tried to pull free.

Matt glanced at the women behind him. “No one else seems to be having problems.”

Emily piped up from behind me. “That’s because we’re using Sydney as a guide. We’re walking wherever she doesn’t.”

I started to slide on loose pebbles and grabbed his upper arm with my free hand. I pulled myself close. Oh man, he smelled good.

“What the heck kind of shoes are you wearing?” Exactly how I wanted to start Day Two of my vacation. I ignored him. Besides, they were the most comfortable sandals I owned.

Yeah, but you never thought about smooth leather soles on a slippery gravel trail, did ya?

“Sydney, didn’t you bring any sneakers?” Patty asked. “Do you need to borrow some other shoes?”

“I tried to tell you,” said Em.

“I’m fine.” I turned in her direction. And slid a couple inches on more loose gravel.

“Don’t let her fall, Matthew,” Patty said in her “mom” voice. “I’ll have to talk to Ted about this trail.”

As I got my feet under me, I once again tried to pull away. Matt interlaced his fingers through mine.

“Oh, no you don’t. Hang on or I’ll carry you.”

“Yeah, right,” I snorted under my breath. I was too tired to be polite, and too nervous I might fall into the river and never be heard from again to risk letting go. Besides, his hand was warm. It was surprisingly chilly out for June. But then, we couldn’t have driven much farther north without ending up in Canada.

A short walk brought us to the stream, flashing and gurgling in the early morning light. Along the bank stood silvery birch trees. Soft, green ferns grew thick on the forest floor. The morning calls of robins and chickadees filled the air. I breathed in the smell of earth and water. Mm, thank you, God.

Matt stopped at a wider area of the bank and showed us how to tie on the flies. I can’t express how relieved I was t
o
no
t
have to use “live bait.” Ugh! Then he showed us how to cast.

“What you’re going to do is bring the rod back in a back cast, then forward — that’s the forward cast — a couple of times until the line is just long enough to toss the fly gently onto the area of the stream you think the fish are at. Watch.” Matt demonstrated as we watched carefully. The fly landed with barely a ripple.

I tried not to be impressed. He made it look like he wasn’t even trying. I guess that’s what you want in a fishing guide, though, someone who knows how to fish. I yawned.

After a couple of demonstrations and a few questions, we spread out along the bank. I tied the lure Matt had given me onto the line and studied it for a moment. “It looks like chicken feathers,” I said.

“Mine looks like a dragonfly, only smaller,” said Emily, holding it up for my inspection.

As we each practiced our casting, Matt walked up and down the riverbank giving pointers and encouragement. I yawned as I cast the rod back, forward, back, and release. I pulled the string, wire
,
lin
e
(whatever, I a
m
s
o
tired) back in for another practice cast. Someone please remind me why I’m doing this again. With someone like Emily for a best friend, how were we not at a spa resort right now? Still sleeping.

“Matt, when you’re done, I need some help,” called Emily.

I watched her for a moment. “I think you’re doing great. Better than me.”

“Thanks, but I really want to learn how to do this right so I can catch some fish.” Emily frowned as she re-cast her line.

Matt went over to help her. Em concentrated on what he was saying, then cast a few more times. Finally, she smiled and nodded. Matt smiled at her, then looked over at me. My stomach took a dive. Must be hunger. Yeah. I need breakfast.

I went back to fishing. Don’t look at him. Pull the line in. Back, forward, back — I shivered really hard and broke my very little concentration. I messed up the line, catching it in my hair in the process.

A chuckle near my left ear made me shiver again.

“A bit tangled up, eh,” Matt said as he pulled the line from my hair. I’d forgotten to pull it into a baseball cap and my hair was a wavy brown mess. I should’ve brought my straightener, camping or not.

I tried to joke around. “I shivered and lost my aim. Now I understand why all the stores sell flannel shirts. Even in June.”

“Well, you caught us in a warm spell this week.” He straightened out my fishing gear and handed it to me.

Then he started unbuttoning his shirt. I shivered again, trying not to watch him and watching anyway out of the corner of my eye. Holy cow, what was he doing? I dug my fingernails into one palm, the hands-full approach to pinching myself. Ow. I was either awake or having a disturbing dream. A wonderfully disturbing dream.

He took his shirt off and put it around my shoulders.

“Hey, what — no, I’ll just go back and get a sweatshirt.”

He pried my fishing pole out of my hands. It wasn’t difficult since I could barely feel them. I just stood there, torn between letting him be the gentleman and insisting on my independence.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said quietly. “No wonder you cast into the woods instead of the stream.”

Point taken. I’d let him play gentleman for now, but tomorrow I’d remember my hoodie. Matt helped me get my arms into the sleeves as I tried to figure out what drugs I’d taken the day before. I must’ve been on something to agree to Emily’s flirtation plan. It had seemed logical enough when Matt wasn’t around. But when he stood so close… How could this be happening? This drop-dead gorgeous hunk in a white T-shirt and jeans was dressing me (okay, unusual in a sexy dream) in his flannel shirt (another point to make one wonder about one’s ability to imagine well) while half a dozen women looked on curiously.

Okay, good point. Not sexy exactly, but nice.

Really nic
e
, sighed Little Miss Lovesick.

Matt buttoned his shirt up to the last button, then turned the cuffs back so my hands showed through. I tried to focus on gratitude not attraction, but holy smokes, his hair smelled good. I shivered once more even as I felt ridiculously warmer. I didn’t know what to think about his attraction thing. I hadn’t spared more than a glance for another man since I met Dirk four years ago.

“You’re going to get cold.” I eyed him again. Soft white cotton wrapped around his chest. A chest that I could clearly see was amazingly muscular. More than work-out-at-the-gym muscular.

He chuckled softly, moving closer, lighting all my nerves on fire. “I’m an All-American red-blooded boy. I think I can take it.”

The last time my stomach felt this way was right before I threw up, the month after Dirk the Jerk dumped me, when I drank too much wine and ate too much Ben & Jerry’s ice cream trying to drown my sorrows.

“You okay now? Ready to try again?” He placed my hands correctly on the pole.

No, I a
m
no
t
ready to try again. All I wanted in the whole world was to be a wife, eventually a mother, and have a home of my own. One occasionally decorated with unexpected flowers from a doting husband. But I didn’t know how to try again. I’d made a serious error in judgment when it came to the character of the man I loved. How could I trust myself not to make the same mistake again? Especially when I didn’t know where I went wrong. But being around Matt, oh, I wish
I
wa
s
ready to try again.