Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (26 page)

“I can carry this if you can get the wine and
the rest of your stuff,” he said, getting up from his kneeling position on the ground.

He’
d purchased a box of Almaden chardonnay. It was going to make it easy to carry.

“I should be ok
ay,” I said.

I picked up the wine and
my bag and followed him as he started out across the desert. It wasn’t easy going because the terrain was uneven, and by now, the sun was starting to set. I tried to follow the path he was choosing as best I could, but there were rocks, cactus, and sage bushes scattered about, pulling at my jeans and my tennis shoes. The items I was carrying were becoming awkward. I didn’t know how Ryan was carrying all that he was, so I was relieved when he found the campsite quickly. With moans of relief, we set everything on the picnic bench.

“Whew
,” he said. “Glad we didn’t have much further.”

“Me to
o.”

I collapsed on the wood bench as
Ryan pulled out two cups from his backpack and set them on the table, he opened the wine. He tipped the box, squeezing the nozzle, and filled our glasses.

“Here
,” he said with a smile, handing me a glass.

“Now the fun be
gins,” I said, looking at the pile on the table. “I didn’t think the wine was heavy to start, but the cardboard got to cutting into my fingers.”

I took a sip as I surveyed our site; the wine was surprisingly cold and tasted crisp. There was a single picnic bench, a small fire pit, campsite barbeque, and a flat sandy spot for a tent. The surrounding area was like what we had just walked through. It wasn’t exceptionally private, but there didn’t seem to be many people in the campground.

“It’s nice,” I said.

“I’ve never been here,” Ryan said “just seen it from the air, thought it might be fun. Didn’t think it was quiet as far as it was.”

Ryan patted my leg and I looked into his eyes.
Butterflies be still.

“It wasn’t bad, just awkward with no direct path and carrying all this stuff,” I chuckled.

Chapter 32

Ryan managed to set up the tent quickly while the stars were just starting to appear in the sky, and then he worked on starting a small fire with pieces of wood he’d rolled in his sleeping bag. I finished unrolling both bags and got our pillows and clothes into the tent, which I then zipped closed before I came back to the table and sat down.

I watched as he fanned the fire and finished unloading his backpack
. He pulled out steaks that were obviously marinating in a plastic bag, potatoes wrapped in foil, and a bag of salad fixings.

“Are you grilling the steaks on the fire
?” I asked, wondering how he was going to do that.

“No
, I brought some briquettes,” he said, holding up a baggie-full.

H
e put the foil-wrapped potatoes into the fire pit close to the fire. The briquettes he fired up in the campsite barbeque. I was pretty impressed at what he had put together. Besides paper plates and utensils, there was a small Tupperware container with butter and sour cream; he even remembered salt and pepper. It filled me with whys; that he had put so much thought into making this special.

While we waited
for the briquettes to burn down, we sat as close as we could to the fire although the bench wasn’t very close; it was chained down so we couldn’t pull it closer. I watched the fire blaze, the smoke twisting and swirling into the cool night air. Fires outside always had a special smell, something that made me think of freedom. Darkness encased us in our little circle of firelight and out of the corner of my eye I could see it play on Ryan’s face.

“
Are you cold?” he asked, quickly rubbing my back as if it would warm me.

             
I stiffened and moved away slightly; he got the message. It was hard not to remember his touch, to long for it,
if only things could be different
.

             
“A little, I have another sweatshirt I can put on, but I’ll wait until I feel colder,” I said.

             
Our conversation thus far had seemed a little strained, like we were stuck in transition, not really lovers, not really friends.

             
“Did you actually go to Luke’s boat that night and spend the night?” he asked.

             
“I did,” I answered flippantly. “Where else would I have gone? I wasn’t driving home. He took me sailing the next day, and I swam in the ocean.”

             
“Where did you sleep?” he asked cautiously.

             
I turned to look at him. I saw in his eyes what he was really asking.

             
“No, I didn’t sleep with him. Luke’s a great friend, but not my type, whatever that is. I did get naked in front of him, though. Not the first time either,” I bragged.

“Enlighten me
,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

             
“I like getting naked and climbing up on the main sail, lying against it, feeling the sun and the wind,” I explained.

             
The smell of the sea and the wind in my hair had made me feel the same looseness as the smell of the fire and watching the smoke drifting towards the stars. Almost as if the enormity of nature made my problems seem small.

             
“You don’t really do that, do you?” he asked.

             
“Yes, I do. Have you ever known me to be shy?”

             
“No,” he said, thinking a minute. “How does Luke feel about that?”

             
“How would you feel if a naked girl got up in your sail?” I laughed.

             
Ryan shook his head as if to clear the image and got up to start the steaks and get the rest of the dinner ready. His silence made me think that he didn’t particularly condone my behavior. I didn’t feel any need to explain further so I just watched him.

             
“Shit, I forgot the salad dressing,” he said, annoyed when we sat down to eat.

             
“It’s fine, Ryan. This looks great,” I complimented.

             
We ate and talked, keeping it mostly neutral: about flying, school, Christmas at my folks. Ryan kept the fire going as long as he could with the wood he brought. We didn’t have a light source so it got very dark as the fire died out. It made it easier to see all the stars that blanketed the clear, cold sky. I pointed out some of the constellations that I’d learned about in astronomy.

“See that,” I pointed. “It’s Orion’s Belt.”

“What Orion’s Belt?”

“See the three stars, boom, boom, boom, right in a line?”

Ryan leaned into me to sight my finger.

“I guess,” he said.
“What’s it supposed to be?”

He was close enough I could smell his Neutrogena body wash.

“The belt of Orion, a hunter’s belt. It helps you find Orion.”

“Hmm,” he said
putting his chin on my shoulder.

The wine was making him bo
lder, and me more relaxed and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“Let me fill your glass,” he said reaching for my empty cup.

I handed it to him and our fingers touched briefly. He picked up the box of wine tipping it to help with the flow. I pointed out more constellations some he could see, some he couldn’t, and we laughed. A sound that was welcomed by me, it relaxed me, like the old days with Ryan. The fire was almost out.

“S’more?” he asked.

“I’d love a s’more.”

Ryan
had one metal skewer, and we roasted a few marshmallows in the dying embers of the fire. His first attempt to get one cooked just right fell into the fire and went up in flames reminding me of a night that Mathew had stolen my perfect s’more. Prompting me to think about my terrible luck with men.

We leaned back against the picnic table our legs stretched toward the fire pit in order to feel the last of the warmth.
As we talked and laughed Ryan got closer to me and we finished the box of wine.

“Ok
ay, I’m cold now,” I complained.

He pulled me to him
, again rubbing me in an attempt to ease the chill. Where I’d pulled away several times before, I didn’t, I just relaxed against him.

             
“Can I zip the sleeping bags together? It will make it warmer when we get in bed,” he asked.

             
“Of course it would,” I giggled.

             
As the evening had progressed and our mood had lightened I somehow thought this might happen. Earlier my resolve had been that there was no way and I wanted to feel that now, but I didn’t.

             
“No, I mean, you could sleep in your sweats, but if we’re next to each other, there’s body warmth,” he defended.

             
He grinned at me, his face hard to see in the dark. A face I wanted to reach out for, lips I wanted to kiss. I could feel the wine.

             
“I don’t care, Ryan. If you want to zip them together, zip them together. I’m sleeping in my sweats,” I relented.

             
He gave my thigh a gentle squeeze as he stood, before he went to the tent, unzipped it, and got in. The flashlight beam bounced around the inside of the tent, and I heard the zippers being unzipped and then silence. I could see his partial silhouette as he tried to zip the bags together; I figured it was hard due to the light and his consumption of wine.

“Having trouble?” I chuckled.

“No, I’ll get it.”

I pulled the metallic bladder of wine out of the box and was able to let
a bit of air in, enough to get another small glass out of it. I pictured the night in Carmel by the cypress tree, with flimsy plastic glasses, and then water glasses in our room in Santa Barbara; our trip back south without Karen.

             
“Remember when you slept in your sweats,” I teased from the bench. “Santa Barbara, when you were seeing Karen. You acted like I was going to attack you. Like Karen was going to hang around and be faithful to you.”

             
I saw Ryan flip the bags around, the flashlight throwing shadows from inside the tent, and continue trying.

             
“I didn’t think you were going to attack me. I wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same bed since I was seeing her,” he said.

             
I thought about saying something mean about getting comfortable with the Sharp family, both daughters and their mother, but I decided against it. I could torture him in worse ways.

             
“What is taking you so long?” I asked, getting colder by the minute.

             
“I don’t think the zippers on our bags are compatible, I can’t get them zipped,” he said.

             
When his words registered, I laughed, hard.

             
“It’s not that funny,” he said, coming out of the tent.

             
“I can’t help it. Even our sleeping bags aren’t compatible,” I laughed.

             
He put his hands on his hips and glared at me and I could tell he wasn’t finding the humor.

             
“Come on, Ryan, it’s pretty funny. Not compatible,” I burst into a fit of laughter again.

             
“Let’s go to bed,” he sighed.

             
“Let me get my sweats on first,” I said, heading unsteadily to the tent.

             
It was a small dome tent, so I had to lie down to squirm out of my jeans and get my sweats on. I pulled off the tops I had layered over each other and took my bra off, and then I put my sweatshirt back on. I wanted to crawl into my bag, get warm, but he’d layered the two bags together anyway. I knew he would probably try and kiss me so I took my toothbrush back out to the table. Ryan had a small jug of water and I stood by the table and brushed my teeth. As much as I didn’t want to use the pit toilet one more time I needed to. When I got back, he was in the tent inside the sleeping bags. I crawled in.

“It’s freezing
,” I said, balling my arms in front of me and shuffling my legs to get warm.

             
Ryan moved closer to me and massaged my back through my sweatshirt.

             
“Getting better?” he asked after a few minutes.

             
“Yeah,” I said, “thanks.”

             
I could feel the blood seep back into my arms and I relaxed them, possibly seeing an invitation he moved closer to me.

             
“Ryan, thanks for dinner, for the plane ride over, all of it,” I yawned. “It’s been fun.”

His hand slipped under my s
weatshirt while he continued to rub my back. I didn’t say anything. I moved closer to him. The reasoning part of me said
let it stop there
, but the emotional part of me said
let what happens happen
. He leaned in and kissed me softly and the butterflies took flight swirling up close to my heart.

“
Ryan,” I whispered.

I knew all my determination to
not let this night become another best friends with benefits was going to go right out the window.

             
“I know what I said. But I feel different right now. Maybe it was the image of you naked in the sail. It bugs me that you got naked in front of Luke, that he could look at you like that,” he said holding me to him.

             
I giggled, remembering Luke watching me, his expression so void of emotion, like it was something he saw every day.

             
“If you only had
friend
feelings, you wouldn’t feel like that,” I said softly, but boldly.

             
He kissed me again, this time more intimately, his tongue seeking mine, his lips soft and open. When he pulled away, I brought his hand around to my breasts. He kept massaging, just like when he’d given me a chest rub, the day I stopped by his place from the beach. I wondered if he was afraid to make it intimate afraid I might stop it if it was.

             
“So was this the plan, entice her with a plane ride and camping, dinner and wine, get her drunk, and take advantage of her? I guess the part you didn’t anticipate were the bags not zipping together,” I teased.

             
He kissed me again for a long time. I knew already, if he moved forward, I was going with him. He pushed my sweatshirt up and pulled it over my head slowly while he covered me in kisses.

“Um,” Ryan murmured.

My resolve to not go down this road was now overshadowed by the little piece of hope I’d held onto deep down. If he wanted me, I knew I wanted him. I regretted not having the willpower to say no, and worried where this might end, hoping it meant that he’d changed his mind about
us
. He rolled on top of me as he continued to kiss my lips, my face, even the tip of my nose.