Out of This World

right next to me, a thick, overgrown so-called alder thicket began to shimmy and shake, as if someone had turned the thing on vibrate.

Accompanying this was a series of undomesticated, ear-piercing whistles in different tones, reminiscent of C- 3PO from Star Wars having a bad day.

I didn’t think; I simply reacted, and threw myself at Kellan.

He caught me-barely-against his chest with an “oomph,” staggering back a few feet.

“Do you hear that?” I whispered, pointing with a shaking finger at the bush, which yep, was still rocking and rolling. “What is it?”

Kellan was still struggling to hold us both upright, but he let me burrow close, and after a moment, he cupped my head in a sweet gesture belied by his next words. “You’re not going to like it.”

“No?”

“It’s something terrifying.”

“My God.” I couldn’t handle anything else, I was sure of it. “What? What is it?”

“Big Foot.”

“What?”

“Okay, it’s not. It’s just two squirrels fighting.”

Lifting my head, I stared at him.

“They’re out-of-control squirrels, too. Wild. Vicious.” His voice had laughter in it. “Better run, Rach.”

I shoved free, and closed my eyes. “This is not nearly as funny as you seem to think.”

“A little bit, it is.”

I opened my eyes now, and glared at him. “Seriously? You have no idea how good running sounds. Running. I never run, Kel.”

He just kept grinning.

“Kel?”

“Yeah?”

I’d planned on saying something not very nice, but the truth was, I had no temper available because I was working on pure nerves. “What have I gotten us into?”

He managed to stop grinning and reach for my hand, and unlike me, he squeezed only very gently. “I don’t know. Why don’t we go find out?”

“Yeah.” I looked down at the boxes at our feet. “There’d better be cookies in there. Lots of cookies.”

Chapter 2

At least there really was a trail. We trudged along it, a sheer rock cliff on our right, a sharp drop-off on our left, at the bottom of which the river rolled and charged along its path. Some really loud birds squawked, as if scolding us for the interruption. Then a cute little squirrel ran out on a branch of a huge, towering tree and chattered at us.

“Oh, look how sweet,” I said.

He chirped again, and then chucked a pinecone at my head.

I ducked and screamed, and Kellan rolled with laughter.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if he’d hit me,” I said, pouting a little. “You’d be carrying my limp body!”

Kellan tried to stop laughing but couldn’t.

I huffed onward, and did my best to regain some dignity. But I’d like to point out, a quarter of a mile is a helluva lot farther than I could have imagined. Probably if I exercised, I wouldn’t be huffing and puffing and wishing for a box of cookies. But I didn’t. And I was.

But there was a trail. I grasped onto that fact, clinging to it like it was my fondest memory. It meant Jack had been telling the truth and, at the end of a quarter mile, we’d find the B &B.

And food.

And, God willing, a telephone, and even better, an Internet connection, which I’d use to find us a way out of here.

“How fast do you think we can get back home?”

“Not fast.”

“I bet I could call someone to come for us.”

“You’re not really going to chicken out that fast.” Kellan was right behind me on the trail, taking up the rear, which worried me.

What if we were being stalked by wolves or bears this very minute?

Or worse, the dreaded mountain cats?

Kel would get eaten first, and then I’d be all alone. On second thought, maybe being in front was a good thing. Still, I sped up as much as I could carrying my two large duffle bags and a box, which was filled with frozen meats. Yes, I’d peeked. This left Kellan with his single duffle bag and three boxes, all loaded with fruits, veggies, pastas and many more supplies, but no cookies.

I’d checked those boxes, too.

I really hated that Kellan knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t chicken out, that I would want to see this through. But that want was more abstract than actual. Because now that I was here, I was discovering a whole host of things about myself. Such as that it’s one thing to think of yourself as adventurous, another ballgame entirely to really be adventurous.

“I’m hungry,” I said.

“What, you missed that first-class meal on our last flight?”

Okay, in spite of myself, I laughed. My last boyfriend had been a leather-wearing biker guy from Santa Barbara. Mouthwateringly gorgeous. He’d been a doctor, too. Perfect, right?

Except for his utter lack of a sense of humor. In fact, he’d been something of an egotistical asshole, and in the end, I’d discovered I wanted more than hard pecs and a nice bank account.

Go figure.

Good things never last.

Dot claimed that was just an excuse to hold back, that I dated the wrong men on purpose, in effect sabotaging my own happiness to prove my own point.

Whatever. All I knew was that Kellan never went for the wrong women. No, he dated sweet, kind, peace- loving, tree-hugging, sensitive women who were his perfect complement.

But I couldn’t help noticing, none of his relationships lasted either. “Huh,” I said over the crack of various pine needles and twigs beneath my feet.

“Huh what?” Kel asked.

“I’m just wondering why you aren’t taken.”

“You mean because I’m such a catch with my high-powered job and buff bod?”

I didn’t look back, because I was still keeping an eye out for kamikaze squirrels, but I could hear the humor in his voice. I knew he didn’t make big bucks at Sea World, but he had a job that he was extremely passionate about and that had a certain sex appeal to it. And no, he wasn’t exactly a buff guy, not with his tall, lanky frame, but he had a great face and an easy smile that was contagious, and that a woman might pass him up made me mad. “You’re a catch, Kel.”

He let out a low laugh. “Okay.”

“You are.”

“Such a catch that you’re dying to nab me yourself, right?”

I was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question because one, he’d never made a move on me in all these years, and two, I’d never thought of him that way. I was spared from thinking that way now by the sound of my stomach growling so loudly, it startled a bird into flight.

“Feel free to tuck into that meat you’re carrying,” Kellan said, shifting the weight of all he carried. Not that he’d complained once.