Chapter 13: Chapter Twelve

The crew was asleep and Ginger should have been, too, but the bed in her tiny camper wasn’t made for someone in a relationship with memory foam. She tossed and turned, jumping at every sound even though she and the crew were far more secure in their campers than the women were in their tents. Davis still hadn’t heard from Jenna, but it hadn’t stopped Ginger from outlining the case she’d make to Marlon to let America’s sweetheart out of her old contract for another chance at the one she let get away.

Just because it had never been done before didn’t mean it was a terrible idea. And just because it was a decent idea didn’t mean it would work. Still, it could be the exact thing she needed to get Elliot’s head back in the game and coax a promotion-worthy performance out of him.

After all, he’d been head over heels for Jenna. She was everything he’d ever wanted—he’d said as much multiple times in several interviews filmed throughout the course of last season. Only a moron would have believed he was interested in anything else. Surely with Jenna back, he and Ginger could both get what they wanted—different, but equally satisfying happily ever afters.

Plus, if she didn’t do something major, someone would walk in on her feeling him up in his Hacienda guesthouse if she was ever stupid enough to go into it alone again. And forget promotions—she’d be out of a job.

In the woods she’d had a true sense of how her control was slipping. The limo ride two nights ago had been one thing—they were completely alone, but she was back at work. Today, morals had wavered, and goals had been strongly reconsidered in the space of time it took him to run his hand up her side. She couldn’t take another chance like that.

Wide awake and on edge, she rearranged her pillow again, but as she rested her cheek against the cool side, the sight of a man coming through the door made her scream. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly blood-curdling. It was one of those strangled screams she tried for in dreams that was never loud enough to get anyone to come help her.

“Shh. Shh…it’s me.”

Goose bumps rose on her entire body at the sound of Elliot’s hushed voice. No. Uh-uh. No way. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out!”

“Who do I need to talk to to get a copy of my contract?”

Her head jerked like he’d struck her. “Excuse me?”

“You? Or do I need to go above you?”

She had a PDF of it in her email inbox somewhere, but she’d walk through the woods naked before she would let him see it while they were in the middle of production. Why the hell couldn’t he focus?

“Can I turn the light on?”

He fumbled along the wall in search of a switch. She bolted out of bed. “Don’t! Someone will see.”

“Will you relax? It’s two in the morning. No one’s up.”

“You are. I am.” Saying the words put her in mind of one thing only. But more importantly, why did he need to look at his contract?

“I can’t sleep.”

“And you think your contract is gonna fix that?”

“It’s a start. I want out of this. This was a mistake.”

“Whoa. Hold up.” Ginger switched modes from sheet-clutching to smooth-talking. This happened every season—someone threatened to walk. Granted, it had never been Ginger’s responsibility to talk the actual star out of it, but Marlon gave her this job for a reason. “Let’s go for a walk. We’ll talk it out. I know this environment can be stressful, and the demands on you are way different this season, but we can get through this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a look like she was trying to sell him a used car. “We can’t even talk to each other like humans.”

Her hackles rose. She’d be damned if she wasn’t totally capable of managing a charged situation. She’d known Elliot would be a handful even before he reached into his pants in the limo, so she was ready for this. If he wanted to be heard, she’d listen. If he needed reassurance that he was in the right place doing the right thing, she could give him that, too. If he wanted the promise of a happy ending—she’d move heaven and earth to get Jenna back on the show, even if she had to break Jenna and Eric up herself.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she offered again. “You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. Deal?”

“If you get me a copy of my contract.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but first…?” She gestured toward the door.

“Fine,” he mumbled.

In her flannel pajamas, she slipped on her UGGs and pulled her hair into a bun. Thinking twice, she put on her sweatshirt, too. The more clothes the better.

As she approached the open door and looked out into the black night, she paused. Well, froze. It was a hells cape of unknowns out there. “Maybe we can talk here.”

He ran a hand up his face and through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. “This was your idea. We can walk down to the creek. It’s private.”

“What creek? I haven’t seen a creek. Like how far away is it?”

“I got on a zip line today. You can take a walk in the woods. I have a flashlight.”

“There are bears out there.”

He snorted a derisive laugh. “Bears sleep, too.”

She shook her head. Adamant. “I can’t. I refuse to become that girl.”

“Forget it. I’m going back to my tent. I’ll talk to Matt in the morning.”

“Hang on.” She hurried to her suitcase, opening a plastic shopping bag and taking out the can of bear repellant she’d bought on the drive into the woods. She met Elliot back at the door. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“What is this?” He wrenched the can out of her grasp and shined his flashlight briefly on the label. He chuckled. Handing it back, he said, “No bear in his right mind would come after you.”

She took it as a compliment.

With his flashlight off, and their way lit only by the glow of the dying fire, they walked fast across the soft forest floor, sneaking into the line of trees, away from dark tents and campers.

Once their trail was lit only by moonlight, Elliot turned on the flashlight, the beam illuminating a branch Ginger had been about to trip on. “So what’s going on? Why are you stressed?” she whispered. Everything out there was so quiet, each tiny sound boomed like a thunderclap. She was nearing a state of perpetual freak out. Part of her wanted him to shine the beam into the woods so she’d know nothing was lying in wait, but the other part of her was terrified he’d illuminate a pair of glowing red eyes.

“Who said I’m stressed?”

“You barged into my camper at two in the morning. I assumed something was weighing heavily.” She needed to cut the sarcasm, but in this business, it was a survival mechanism.

“I like to know what my options are,” he said.

“Options for what?”

“Going home.”

She pushed back a tree branch near her forehead. “Look, if you’re pissed at me, I get it. I know I can come across harsh, but if you tell me what you need from me, I’ll make every effort to do better. You want me to be nicer, I’ll be nicer—you want me to keep my distance, I can manage that, too. I want this to work, Elliot. For you and for me.”

He stopped walking so suddenly she nearly smacked into his back, but she caught herself and halted behind him. Slowly he turned to face her. “I’ll be honest. If I’d known you’d be producing me, I wouldn’t have come until they made other arrangements.”

It was a real slap in the face, and it stung. For a moment, she was struck silent. Scrambling to control her reaction, her brain processed his words in several different contexts. He could have meant she was a shitty producer, and he never wanted to work with such a hack; or maybe he meant he was so wildly attracted to her he couldn’t bear being in a room with her without wanting to totally ravish her, or, more realistically, he could have meant their relationship was complicated to navigate given the fact they’d fucked in a hotel room once when they’d both had no one to answer to.

It was probably the latter. And it was a sentiment she sympathized with. “Fair enough,” she said. “But we’re here now, and we’re both adults. I think we can make it work if we’re clear on what we want from each other.”

She’d pat herself on the back for that one later.

“What we want?” At the same time he asked, he ran a finger down her neck, stopping where the hickey was.

She slapped his hand down. “Yes, but I need you to stop touching me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He held up both hands in surrender and kept walking. Like a dumbass, she kept following him.

“I’d think after the other night what we wanted was pretty obvious,” he said.

The bold reference to their most recent off-screen shenanigans did its part to totally fluster her. “That’s not a fair—I tried to—You wouldn’t—Look. You were practically jerking off right in front of me. What was I supposed to do, pretend like it wasn’t happening and talk about the schedule?”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t an option.”

It was so freaking infuriating that he insisted on calling out her part in all this. Like he bore no responsibility whatsoever. Like he had no clue how hot he was—or how irresistible.

She brushed a leaf out of her hair and made a decision to own her part. He was right. He’d stopped when she’d told him to, but she’d gotten turned on, and shit happened. The only thing she could control anymore was that it never happened again, or worse.

So why was she still following him?

He had the flashlight.

It was perfectly reasonable.

The trees parted, and the creek glistened before them. If she hadn’t been so conflicted, it might have been pretty. Instead, she glared down at the rippling stream of water, resenting its perfection.

Elliot sat on the rocky shore, his legs crossed beneath him like a kid at a campfire. He let the water flow over his hand, between his fingers. The sound of the creek did its part to drown out the random forest noises.

Ginger stood and focused on the way the moonlight bounced off the ripples of water.

“Nice, right?” he asked, after a long moment of silence.

“Sure.”

“I still want to talk about the contract, but I never got a chance to thank you for what you did at the zip line. I never would have done that if it hadn’t been… Well, you get the idea.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed. She’d been proud of them together, and it was nice of him to acknowledge her efforts.

“It was no sweat. You were fine.”

“I thought Michelle was the only person who could make me do something like that.”

“Why Michelle?” Ginger asked, her curiosity about their relationship brimming over the edge.

“We’ve been through everything together. She’s the only reason I came back here.”

Surely not the only one. No one was that convincing. “Were you ever…?”

“Yes.”

She’d been about to say “more than friends.” Either he’d read her mind or completely misunderstood.

“When?”

“High school.”

“Only high school?”

He nodded.

“That was a long time ago…” she said.

“You don’t believe me?” He sent a devilish grin her way.

“Are you over it?”

He huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah. It was definitely a phase.”

Somewhat mollified by the tone of his response, the nagging jealousy receded. “Interesting you’ve stayed so close.”

“She was the one who drove my mom to rehab,” he said quietly as he continued to stare out at the water. “She knew me and my sister couldn’t do it…we’d cave…fall apart. Something. Michelle took care of everything. But you know—it didn’t stick, so…” He tossed another stone into the creek.

“When was that?” Ginger asked.

“I was a senior in college. Anyway…that’s why Michelle. We’re connected.”

The word was like a fist to the chest. Connected. Ginger had shared a womb with her sister and yet she felt like the most disconnected girl in the world. No one got her. No one even liked her. Respected, sure, put up with, yes. But she’d spent her entire life trying to do things her own way, trying to explain to other people—her sister, her family—why the way she thought about school or life or her dreams made just as much sense as their ways did, and she’d been dismissed so many times she’d stopped trying to explain herself. Why bother? They’d already written her off as a misfit.

She always thought she had something to prove to all of them, but maybe what she was really looking for was what he’d said—a connection. God, why was she letting him get to her like this? She refused to succumb to self-pity. Focus was paramount. She had to keep it together or her entire world would fall apart.

“Well, I’m glad I helped you overcome a fear.” The zip line was a safer topic. “But if something like that happens again, it has to be one of the women who helps you.”

“Right.”

“Cause you and I aren’t a thing.”

“Okay, Ginger.”

“Christ, I mean how many options do you need?”

“Don’t even start,” he said.

“Contract loopholes aside, you signed up for this. You wanted it.”

He pitched another rock into the stream before shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. Hunching over, he stared out at the water.

“Are we just gonna sit here?” she asked.

“You’re not sitting.”

“It doesn’t look comfortable.”

He scooted away from the edge of the water, to a place that was more grass and dirt than rock. He patted the ground beside him.

She hesitated.

“I won’t bite,” he said.

The marks on her neck and breasts said differently.

He glanced up at her, his hair falling across his eyes, grazing the tops of his cheekbones. His beauty put a catch in her breath. “Humor me,” he said. “You said you’d do whatever I needed. Do your job.”

When those words had left her mouth in the guesthouse, she’d had no idea he’d be throwing them back in her face so often. Against her better judgment, she set down her can of bear repellant and sat, but silence descended swiftly and oppressively.

“Anybody stand out to you today?” she asked, in a pathetic attempt to make conversation.

He gave her a long look full of exasperation but didn’t say anything.

“I still like Cassie. And Hannah,” she offered.

“Shut. Up.”

“Just trying to help.”

He sighed. “It’s not. Helping.”

She pressed her lips together to keep her mouth closed. Her body hummed with his nearness. Her entire right side filled with light and heat. The whole scene should have been relaxing her, not putting her one step away from falling off a cliff. The situation sucked. Her job vs. Elliot. She couldn’t have one thing without sacrificing the other, and sitting next to him, alone in the woods, far from any prying eyes, the choice was impossible. She wanted his hands on her so much she could have screamed.

“Did you need me to apologize for the other night?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.” He let out another breath, and the moisture of it formed a small puff of steam in front of his mouth.

She shivered.

He added, “You could apologize for some of the shit you’ve said since then, but it’s not a deal breaker.”

“I’m not gonna disagree, but none of it was intended to maim or kill.”

He chuckled, halfheartedly. “Guess I’ll take it.”

“I’m sorry if I…” The apology trailed off, falling flat. She wasn’t sorry. Even if being with him had been wrong, it was hard to regret doing something she’d so much wanted to do.

He turned to face her. The moon lit his face with a glow, like dawn before the sun fully rose. “If you what?”

It had only been minutes since he’d looked in her the eyes, but it was disconcerting how she’d missed it—his dark and singular attention. The rush of his direct stare went straight to her head and elsewhere. “This has to stop,” she said, more to herself than him.

He swallowed before taking a breath to speak. His eyes tightened at the corners like his own thoughts hurt to think. “I don’t know if I can.”

Something about the look on his face inspired something deeper than lust inside her. The ache in his words seared her deep. An urge to soothe it overwhelmed her, and all her bravado dropped away. She felt terrible for distracting him. He hadn’t come here to get tangled up with her. “I never should have gotten in that limo with you. I knew it wouldn’t end well.”

“No. It had to happen. I told you I can’t get my mind off you.”

Though the words ignited her insides, she fought with every ounce of strength she had left, but it didn’t amount to much. His presence was kryptonite. “Elliot, I swear to God, if you don’t fulfill your contractual obligation, I’ll sue your ass myself.”

“I know what I’m doing.” He moved in, turning his body toward hers and reaching across her opposite hip to pull her closer. “Trust me.”

Her inner scaffolding shuddered and threatened to collapse. If he kept talking like that, there’d be nothing left to hold her up anymore. “Elliot. Fuck.”

He nudged her nose with his, drawing her mouth into the perfect angle for a kiss. “You know you won’t be sorry,” he whispered.

“Yes, I will be. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Regrets are for opportunities lost—not the chances you take.”

Her morals and misgivings took another round of shots from the firing squad of Elliot’s nearness. This wasn’t going to end well, either. He smelled like a campfire, and everything in her wanted to curl up next to it. Which had to be pretty obvious because she was clutching the hem of his thermal shirt like it would save her life in this career emergency.

They shared a few more panting breaths, the anticipation building as her heartbeat quickened. A slight brush of their lips did the trick of demolishing what was left of Ginger’s will to resist. She bridged the minuscule gap, sealing their mouths together. The heat of his lips was like fire next to his cool cheeks. It was the only way to get warm, and so she sank more deeply into it.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in, the possessive slide of his tongue against hers obliterating every ounce of sense in her head. Her body took over, a victim of the tidal wave of want crashing through her. But as the intensity of their kiss continued to build, their breaths heated and rushed, want seemed too small and imperfect a word to describe what she was feeling. This was a craving so profound she couldn’t even conceive of denying it. Her mouth sought his, demanding more. His response was equally aggressive.

A second later, she was flat on her back with her head grinding into the dirt from the force of his kiss. Desire turned her insides to liquid as he climbed on top of her, sliding his rigid cock between her thighs. Goddamn this guy!

Her need to have him inside her was intense, undeniable, and impossible. They couldn’t do this.

She didn’t know how to stop.

He reached for the waistband of her pajama pants.

“No—condom…” It was all she had—a dangling thread of a reason.

He devoured her neck with a wide-open mouth. “I have one.”

With her last hope for a decent excuse effectively gone, she was secretly relieved. But she had to keep this simple. Kissing him like he was her dream come true wasn’t doing either one of them any favors. Switching gears, like a desperate animal, she gave his pants a firm downward shove with both hands.

“That’s how it’s gonna be?”

“Take it or leave it,” she breathed as she ran her hands up the back of his shirt.

He followed her lead, her baggy pants not offering much more than she was in the way of resistance. Dropping back onto her with a thud that took her breath away, his tongue found hers again. She grabbed hold of his ass, fingernails digging and trying to draw him in, keep him close. “You sure this is what you want?” he asked.

“You’re asking? Seriously?”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

Shifting her hips to the right, she caught him, stealing his hesitation right out from under him. Helpless, he groaned as he filled her with his length. When their hips collided, his mouth separated from hers. Their foreheads met and the steam of their breath mingled in the air between them.

“Goddamn. Okay,” he panted. “Did you want me to put on the condom or not? Jesus.”

“In a minute.”

Emotional and romantic, it wasn’t, but they hadn’t come out here for any of that. They’d come out here to fuck. Period. There was no use denying it or trying to pretty it up. Ginger didn’t need it to be pretty.

His hips rolled and thrust as he raised his head. Blinking her eyes open, they met his. Though he was inside her, as close as he could be, he still seemed so frustratingly unknowable. Arching off the ground, she clenched around him, drawing him back to his full depth as he shuddered and groaned. It was the sexiest sound, putting a clench deep in her heart. She wanted more of it. More of him, even if those were truly unacceptable feelings to have while engaging in career-ending sex, and yet…

When his mouth crashed into hers again, it was game on. Whatever spiritual moment had been trying to brew dissipated as his hips picked up speed and power, pounding her body into the dirt. He was literally fucking her on the forest floor, and she was about to come in the great outdoors.

“Squeeze me tight,” he whispered.

Closing her legs, she clamped down hard, focusing on the here and now, the physical. Her body responded with pure pleasure at how dirty this was—how naughty they were together. So bad.

“Fuck,” he grunted, having to move in harder. The added friction heated her up. She gripped him by the face as her mouth tore into his like she was addicted.

Just because they were having real sex didn’t mean anything, right? It didn’t have to ruin the show. It was a pressure valve release. Human nature. And it felt so good.

He pressed in deeper. She gasped and scratched at his shoulders, both overwhelmed and unwound. “Wait—wait—oh—oh God…I’m gonna come, Elliot.”

“So—Fuck the condom?”

She gripped his ass and forced him to be still in a last ditch bid for some control over what was going on inside her body. The way he filled her and her increasingly intense need for some kind of release finally reached a tipping point when he groaned in frustration. The guttural sound pushed her over the edge. Her climax jolted her, a cry choking out of her as she trembled and clenched around his cock. Her lower body tensed with tiny spasms, but before her orgasm even had a chance to wrap itself up—before she could ride out the maddening pleasure, he pulled out. “Elliot?”

The sound of his groan had been intense, but the rip of a foil packet was the noise she craved in the worst way.

He settled himself between her legs with the condom on, his tip nudging the place where she still ached to have him. “You have zero chill,” he said.

He was right. She was out of control, but it was far too late to care.

A hand on his bare ass, she guided him inside, gasping as he filled her again.

He sighed, long, drawn out, and shaky. “You feel unreal.”

She’d never heard that one before. It totally worked.

His mouth drifted over hers, and everything in her strained for it. But then she had some out-of-body vision of them, deeply kissing in missionary in the middle of the woods, and it was too intimate, too romantic—too much like making love.

She refused to let herself go there. She turned her head, lurching with her entire body. He took the hint, rolling them over to put her on top. She rose, creating some distance between their faces. With her eyes shut tight, she rode his lap. Slowly at first, then picking up speed, her hands braced on his tense chest muscles while his fingers drove themselves deeper into her butt cheeks.

The sounds coming from her weren’t cute anymore. They were grunts and rapid pants, and she bit her lip to keep from waking every animal in the forest along with the entire cast and crew.

Neck arched, she turned her face to the sky, and he jerked his hips upward, driving deep. The stars blurred as another orgasm obliterated her insides, causing her to quake around him. He let himself go, too. Holding her ass tight against him while his cock throbbed, his release pulsed inside her. His broken groan echoed off the trees before she lost her balance and landed in a heap on top of him, loving the blissful endorphins and hating her traitorous body with equal measure.

After making some minor adjustments, Elliot moved them both onto their sides, cradling her close. With his mouth right next to her ear, his breaths sounded like the roar of the ocean.

The sex was perfect. Untamed. Feral. Hot. But the way they lay afterward was exactly the way they’d ended up on his hotel room floor so many months ago where she’d held his hand against her stomach and begged him not to go anywhere.

And he hadn’t. She had.

But this night in the woods, she didn’t want to go back to her trailer. She wanted to keep getting dirty with him for as long as they both could take it.

Instead of any of that, because none of that sounded like the Ginger she knew or aspired to be, she said, “You should go for the virgin. You can train her up just how you like.”

“Fuck you.” He nudged her nose with his, surprising her with a soft kiss. His hand on the back of her head pressed her in closer, letting his tongue delve deeper.

She couldn’t resist. His mouth was so warm, and he tasted so good.

“Maybe she can teach you some restraint,” she said when he took a break to breathe.

“Can you even imagine me with a virgin? Fuck.” He rubbed his hand over her still-bare ass, circling and squeezing, grinding the dirt in only to brush it off.

She hummed, her eyes closing at the decadence of it. His touch melted her, same way his words did, hinting at an intimacy between them that couldn’t exist with anyone else there. She knew him better. More. “Elliot, I can’t lose my job. Not like this.”

“I’m not gonna let you lose your job. We’ll be careful.”

“We’ll get caught.”

His hand stilled. He blinked. “Wait—are you considering doing this again?”

Was she?

Goddamn, she was. He’d caught her in a moment, and she still wanted him in the worst way imaginable. But it could mean the total and complete destruction of everything she’d ever held dear. She licked her lips and averted her eyes.

“No, no, no, no—don’t think about it too much. Stop.” He grasped the back of her head, forcing her to look at him. His face ruined her. “We can do this. We need this.”

No. This could never happen again. Look where they were—right out in the open where anyone could have found them half-naked and damn near lost in each other. She forced herself to move, pull up her pants, and sit.

He did the same. “You know, if something’s about to happen for the last time, you should mention that before it starts,” he said, his tone somewhat scolding.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. You keep acting like I’m all calculating and have my shit together when it comes to you, when what you should notice is I’m a complete mess and—I don’t know—maybe act like a gentleman for once.”

He let a short, disbelieving laugh escape. “I guess I could try that. If it’s what you want.”

The remaining dirt in her underwear made sitting gross and uncomfortable. She shifted to her knees. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Can you focus now? Have you gotten what you need to get out of your system? Can we finally move on?”

“I don’t know. Can I get a copy of my contract?”

Jesus, they weren’t back to that, were they? “You don’t seriously still want to quit, do you?”

He gestured toward the woods, in the direction of the campsite. “What I want isn’t back there.”

“You have no idea what you want, Elliot. That’s why you’re here. So someone can pick for you. Just let us help. You won’t leave here unhappy. I promise.”

He scowled like she had no idea what she was talking about or if she was even capable of doing her job. It was borderline insulting, but also, in light of their circumstance, kind of understandable.

Still.

“I came here knowing exactly what I wanted,” he said.

She flipped a stray hair from her cheek with a jerk of her head. “Oh yeah? What was that?”

“A wife. A life. Something real.”

She blinked at the conviction in his voice. “Then what are we doing here?”

“I want you more.”

“Well, congratulations. Because you managed to do the one thing that made that impossible.” She was about to stand, but he took hold of her wrist, keeping her on the ground.

“I wanted you first.”

No, he hadn’t. He’d wanted Jenna first. Ginger had been the backup. She still was because no one here was allowed to sleep with him yet. She worked to keep a lid on her flaring temper. “We need to get back,” she said tightly.

“It’s just a contract, Ginger.”

There was an urgency in his voice and in his gaze rooting her to the earth. “It’s my job, Elliot.”

“A job is just a job,” he insisted.

It was probably pretty easy for someone who looked like he did and fit in so well and was desired by all the world like he was to say a thing like that to a person he’d barely scratched the surface with. When was the last time he’d had to prove to someone else he was worthy of the skin he’d been born in? She refused to let his pretty face and his scrambling heart get to her when everything she’d ever worked for was on the line.

“It’s not that simple,” she said to close the subject. “Let’s see where things go, okay?”

“With us?”

Thankfully, her producer hat was back on, although the fit was more awkward than before. “With the show. I have every confidence in this process. Especially for you. These women are amazing.”

“Ginger, I swear to God…” He hung his head in frustrated doubt.

She lay a hand against his cheek, urging him to look up “Trust me. Okay?”

Their eyes met and held. Desire and a pain reminiscent of her angsty middle school crush filled her chest, putting too much pressure on her heart.

“Okay,” he whispered.

The urge to kiss him again was so strong it almost did her in. She beat it back, finally forcing herself to stand. “We really need to get back now.”

They didn’t talk as they made their way through the woods. At first the silence between them seemed appropriate, until it became overwhelmingly noticeable. But by the time Ginger thought of something she could say to break the tension, the dying campfire glowed through the trees.

Probably for the best. She was only going to mention bears again.

And rightly so because as she squashed the thought, a rustle of leaves to their left caused them both to freeze in their tracks. Elliot’s flashlight beam swept the tree trunks, and Ginger let loose a squawking noise as the hulking form of a man took shape in the glow.

“Ginger—Christ—what the fuck!” Matt sounded as freaked out as she was.

At first, relieved it was only Matt, she had a moment of breathing easy, and then she gasped because it was Matt. And she was clearly not alone, and she still had leaves in her hair and there was no reason to be alone in the woods with the star of the show in the middle of the night that wasn’t really, really bad.

Elliot, to her horror, took a step closer to her, his body crowding her left side as he loomed behind her.

Without thinking, she patted a hand over her hair. So many leaves…

Matt approached silently, taking stock of the two of them, the light from his own flashlight examining them both the way a detective would examine a crime scene. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned casually against a tree trunk, taking a drag from a lit cigarette.

Ginger couldn’t help it. “You’re smoking?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He pointed at Elliot with the lit end of his cigarette. “You’re fucking him?”

On the spectrum of vices, Ginger may technically have had more to explain. She veered in another direction with it. “Of course not.” Her voice dripped with indignation and a hint of derision. “I was looking for him.”

“I wandered off,” Elliot added. Not helpfully.

Matt wasn’t buying any of it. He shined his flashlight beam directly at Ginger’s neck. Reflexively she reached up to cover the fading hickey.

“He’s back now. I’m going to bed.” She beat a path out of the woods and into the clearing of the campsite.

The men followed, shutting off their flashlights so as not to alert everyone that some major shit was going down. “We need to talk,” Matt mumbled.

“Not tonight,” she hissed.

His tone left no room for argument. “Now.”