dinner he’d made for her and thanked him, for God’s sake. Susannah Stone was craftier than he’d thought. From a viewer’s perspective, he must look like a prize jerk. Bergman’s support of the charity would help him meet one goal, but he still had his career to consider. Wild Man would become a laughingstock if he got shown up in the woods by Susie Homemaker.
Instinct told him the only way to gain some ground was to get Susie on his side, but that didn’t seem likely, considering she’d crawled into an ice-cold tent to avoid sharing a warm fire with him. Every time he got near her, she bristled like a porcupine, and when he touched her, the look in her eyes made the snow seem warm.
His mind churned, keeping him from sleep. Should he continue to challenge her and hope when they filmed her segment of the show, he would look as good in her kitchen as she looked in his woods? Not likely. She had threatened him with an oatmeal facial, and he could feel his balls shrinking right now. Diaper changing? Ugh. Babies were dangerous. They didn’t do what they were told and got into all sorts of trouble. Hadn’t she also mentioned a dinner party? He felt the tie tightening around his neck like a noose. He only got dressed up for meetings and other unavoidable unpleasantness.
He shook off the choking sensation. Right now, she was beating him at his own game, so he had no choice but to beat her at hers. If that meant smiling while wearing a face full of goop, he’d do it. It couldn’t be harder than jumping out of an airplane or bushwhacking his way up a mountain, and surely he could put up with her kid long enough to win the hearts of viewers. If he had to learn to cook, so be it. One way or another, he would turn this show around.
…
Russ woke completely and instantly. He eased to a sitting position as he heard the juddering sound that had invaded his dream. What the hell? It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the tent. He reached for the electric Coleman-style lamp and turned it to low and then unzipped his bag and crawled toward the sound.
Susannah was sound asleep and crunched into a tight ball, lips pale, shoulders shaking, teeth chattering.
“Susannah?” He put his hand on her shoulder, and she moaned. Her bag was stiff and freezing cold. Shit. Was it wet? He should have checked her more closely before he went to sleep. Bone-dry, her goose-down sleeping bag had passed muster for their trip. Wet, it was a disaster.
“Susannah, wake up.”
“Too cold.”
“It’s gonna get colder if you don’t get out of your wet sleeping bag.”
“Sleeping bag is fine. Your book said so. There was a whole section on goose down versus man-made fiber,” she mumbled.
Thank God she’s coherent. “You must not have read the whole thing. Goose down won’t keep you warm if it’s wet. You zipped yourself into a freezer.”
Her eyes slitted open. “It’s all I’ve got.”
Her body was trying to warm itself up by shivering, expending energy she probably didn’t have after their strenuous day. She needed to get out of her cold bag, into appropriate layers, and warmed up. A frightening thought occurred to him. “You didn’t sneak the tequila into your backpack and have a nightcap, did you?”
“No!” Her offended tone was reassuring.
“Because you’d be even colder if you had. Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” He also wanted to see how she was moving. She didn’t seem hypothermic, but if she started stumbling around the tent like she couldn’t feel her fingers and toes, he was getting help. “Let’s head into the ranger station.”
Her eyes popped wide. “If you think I’m going to wuss out because my bed is damp, you’re nuts. I’d rather do jumping jacks all night.”
He reached for the zipper of her bag and pulled it all the way down to her feet. “Let’s see you do a few jumping jacks just to check your circulation, and we’ll go from there.”
“I’m fine.” She
Instinct told him the only way to gain some ground was to get Susie on his side, but that didn’t seem likely, considering she’d crawled into an ice-cold tent to avoid sharing a warm fire with him. Every time he got near her, she bristled like a porcupine, and when he touched her, the look in her eyes made the snow seem warm.
His mind churned, keeping him from sleep. Should he continue to challenge her and hope when they filmed her segment of the show, he would look as good in her kitchen as she looked in his woods? Not likely. She had threatened him with an oatmeal facial, and he could feel his balls shrinking right now. Diaper changing? Ugh. Babies were dangerous. They didn’t do what they were told and got into all sorts of trouble. Hadn’t she also mentioned a dinner party? He felt the tie tightening around his neck like a noose. He only got dressed up for meetings and other unavoidable unpleasantness.
He shook off the choking sensation. Right now, she was beating him at his own game, so he had no choice but to beat her at hers. If that meant smiling while wearing a face full of goop, he’d do it. It couldn’t be harder than jumping out of an airplane or bushwhacking his way up a mountain, and surely he could put up with her kid long enough to win the hearts of viewers. If he had to learn to cook, so be it. One way or another, he would turn this show around.
…
Russ woke completely and instantly. He eased to a sitting position as he heard the juddering sound that had invaded his dream. What the hell? It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the tent. He reached for the electric Coleman-style lamp and turned it to low and then unzipped his bag and crawled toward the sound.
Susannah was sound asleep and crunched into a tight ball, lips pale, shoulders shaking, teeth chattering.
“Susannah?” He put his hand on her shoulder, and she moaned. Her bag was stiff and freezing cold. Shit. Was it wet? He should have checked her more closely before he went to sleep. Bone-dry, her goose-down sleeping bag had passed muster for their trip. Wet, it was a disaster.
“Susannah, wake up.”
“Too cold.”
“It’s gonna get colder if you don’t get out of your wet sleeping bag.”
“Sleeping bag is fine. Your book said so. There was a whole section on goose down versus man-made fiber,” she mumbled.
Thank God she’s coherent. “You must not have read the whole thing. Goose down won’t keep you warm if it’s wet. You zipped yourself into a freezer.”
Her eyes slitted open. “It’s all I’ve got.”
Her body was trying to warm itself up by shivering, expending energy she probably didn’t have after their strenuous day. She needed to get out of her cold bag, into appropriate layers, and warmed up. A frightening thought occurred to him. “You didn’t sneak the tequila into your backpack and have a nightcap, did you?”
“No!” Her offended tone was reassuring.
“Because you’d be even colder if you had. Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” He also wanted to see how she was moving. She didn’t seem hypothermic, but if she started stumbling around the tent like she couldn’t feel her fingers and toes, he was getting help. “Let’s head into the ranger station.”
Her eyes popped wide. “If you think I’m going to wuss out because my bed is damp, you’re nuts. I’d rather do jumping jacks all night.”
He reached for the zipper of her bag and pulled it all the way down to her feet. “Let’s see you do a few jumping jacks just to check your circulation, and we’ll go from there.”
“I’m fine.” She
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