“That sucks,” she lied. It really didn’t suck much at all. Had Dane given her the most private campsite on purpose? Was he going to meet her tonight?
Pete gestured at the woods. “You want to walk the same way until we hit the creek?”
This would be the last time she’d have to deal with his aggravating self, at least. So she plastered a cheerful smile on her face and didn’t even look back at Dane. “Sure thing, Pete.”
TWELVE
She ditched Pete on the far side of the stream. He’d offered to follow her to her campsite and help her with setting up, but she’d been a little affronted that he thought she needed his unasked-for help and had chased him off with a few cheerful encouragements that he should set up his own camp. She was glad he was gone, though. Pete was just underfoot too much, was too eager, too chatty, too everything. He was a nice guy—cute in a geeky sort of way and well off, but her mind was laser-focused on Dane.
The silence left behind by Pete’s departure was pleasing. Without him in her ear making small talk, she was able to relax and enjoy the day. She’d given up on stressing over Dane. If he showed up tonight, great. If he didn’t, well. If she couldn’t keep him interested long enough for phase two of her revenge plan, then it wasn’t meant to be.
Picking up a piece of firewood, she frowned to herself at the thought.
Jeez, where had the laissez-faire attitude come from? She’d come out here to destroy a man in the most cutthroat manner. She was blatantly using him for her own ends. When had she gone from “Destroy Dane and everything he touches” to “Oh well, it is what it is”? That wouldn’t do at all.
She stopped for a minute, picturing the photos on that horrible cheap website with “Casanova” flashing in some poorly animated gif. The looks she got in town. The snickers. The awkward conversations at the town get-togethers. Her mother’s total mental breakdown. The old familiar pain began to burn in her belly, filling her with an angry reminder of what she was doing here.
She was here to destroy a man. So she’d ended up sleeping with him. It didn’t mean that she had to change course. And it didn’t mean that she had to have feelings for the man. She didn’t.
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
Scowling to herself at the traitorous thoughts, she scooped up a few likely branches as she walked. Her camp was easy to find—there was a nice clear spot with a small red flag stuck into the ground. The creek was a short distance away, the trees were tall, and the area was secluded. Nice. She set down her wood, her pack, and set to work. The first task for the day would be a fire. Once she had it going, she could begin the next task—a shelter. That would be a bigger project, as she needed to make it big enough for two. Just in case. Food was last on the priority list, since it would probably involve leaving camp, and she wanted to stick around, just in case Dane showed up.
When he showed up, she amended. He’d said he’d come by to check how her “survival day” was coming along. No sign of him yet, she thought as she laid the wood in a pile for her fire, but it was early.
After an hour’s hard work she’d produced a fire with a spindle and bow and was oddly pleased she was able to do so. You couldn’t make a fire every time with rubbing sticks, but she’d been able to do it today, and that was a nice feat. Wouldn’t Dane be impressed? She fed it more kindling to build the flame, and when it was nice and healthy, she added a few small logs to the fire. Then she set to work on her lean-to. She took her time, the task requiring a lot of work, a lot of trekking back and forth, and tending the fire.
First she had to build the A-frame and lash it together. When it was solid, she made a lattice of small branches on one side to form the windbreak, and then continued to stack tree branches on it, shoving dirt high against the bottom edge to ensure that nothing could crawl under. Then she worked on laying some soft pine branches as a bed, and spread her spare hooded sweatshirt down over the branches. After that was done, she stood up and wiped her brow, exhausted and surprised at how much the tasks had taken out of her.
There was still so much to do—she had to catch dinner or go foraging, boil water for her canteen, gather more wood for the fire…She eyed the creek, then eyed the sun, low in the sky. She’d do that stuff after she had a nice rinse off. If Dane showed up—when, she corrected herself—she didn’t want to be sweaty and exhausted. She wanted to be fresh and sexy.
She stripped and took a quick dip in the stream, letting the water refresh her spirits and ease her aching muscles. She quickly dressed in her last pair of cute, clean panties and her last bra—a delicate pink set edged with black lace, just enough to make it girlish with a naughty side. A quick glance around camp told her that food wasn’t going to magically spring forth, so she sighed and grabbed a stick that would make a likely fishing pole. The creek had had a few deeper, slower-moving areas with overhanging branches, which were the perfect spots for fish to hide. She would have the best luck there.
She fished for two hours (with frequent trips back to her campsite to check on her banked fire) but by the time the sun was going down, she’d caught nothing. Well, she’d eat tomorrow.
It didn’t matter, really. She could survive on her own—she had fire, a shelter, and she could eat some grasses and nuts. She had water to drink, and a fire to boil it over. She was set. She wondered if the other students had had as much success as she had.
After a moment, she gave a rueful smile and decided they probably had. Dane was a good teacher.
When she returned to her campsite, she knelt next to the fire and adjusted the logs. The bushes behind her rustled. Miranda whirled, startled. Was Dane finally—
But no. To her surprise, Pete emerged from the woods, sweaty and unkempt. A smear of dirt bisected one cheek, and he held a fish strung through a small branch, carrying it toward her camp.
Well, hell. She glanced around uneasily—was Dane not coming? Was she going to be stuck entertaining Pete all night?
“Hey, Miranda,” Pete said cheerfully. “I brought you a fish.”
“Pete, what are you doing here?”
He looked confused that she wasn’t greeting him more happily. “I brought you a fish.” And he raised it in the air, as if it weren’t obvious. “Just in case you weren’t able to catch your own.”
Irritation flashed through Miranda, but she quickly tamped it down again. He meant well, even if he managed to insult her with everything he did. “Thanks, Pete, but I’m good. I don’t want your fish. We’re supposed to be surviving on our own, remember? No help from the others.”
He looked surprised at her rebuke, as if it had never occurred to him that he’d need to do stuff on his own—or that she’d be capable of handling herself. “Oh. I see. Well, I just thought I would help.” He gave her a wounded-puppy look. “Sorry, Miranda.”
She sighed and forced a smile to her mouth. “It’s a sweet thought, Pete, but don’t you think you should get back to your own campsite with that fish before Dane drops by? You want to pass the course.”
“Oh, he’s already dropped by,” said Pete casually. “I’m guessing he’s already stopped by the others, too.”
“Oh?”
He gave her a knowing look. “Miranda, I’m not stupid. I know what’s going on between you two. I think we both know where Dane’s last stop is going to be tonight.”
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, her breath disappearing. “What do you mean?”
He gave her a wry look. “Come on, Miranda. I’ve seen you and Dane sneaking off to be together this week, and I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him. I just want to tell you that you’re going to get your heart broken. He’s not interested in a relationship.”
The constriction in her chest relaxed a little, and she felt absurdly like laughing. Was that what he was worried about? That she might be used by Dane and would need a bit of rescuing by a white knight? Generous of him, but totally incorrect.
She was being the user in this relationship.
“That’s very nice of you, Pete, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
“It’s not right,” Pete said, a hint of peevishness in his voice now. “He shouldn’t be sleeping with clients. I’ve half a mind to go and tell his partners what he’s been up to.”
Alarm shot through her body. He couldn’t do that. If anyone was going to ruin Dane’s career, it was going to be her, dammit. And just the thought of Pete messing things up made her nerves fray. “Pete, please,” she said softly. “I would prefer if no one knows but us.”
He looked unconvinced.
“For my sake?” she said, turning on the charm and moving forward to touch his arm. She swung her hair a little, mentally wishing she could punch him in the face for even suggesting such a thing.
He looked at her and licked his lips, then sighed. “I won’t say anything, Miranda. I just…I wish you were interested in me, not him.”
She smiled and leaned forward, impulsively kissing him on the cheek. “I wish I was, too.”
He turned his head into her kiss.
She recoiled. So much for her goodwill toward him. She pulled away and smiled tightly. “You should go back.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m going.”
With arms crossed, she watched him leave her campsite, still carrying his fish. She wouldn’t miss him when this week was over. The only one she’d miss was Dane.
The thought made her breath whoosh out of her lungs.
Miss Dane?
Ridiculous. She was here to destroy the man.
Really? Good Miranda said inside her mind. Because you seem more interested in sleeping with him than actually getting revenge.
Damn. She hated Good Miranda. Especially when that sounded closer to the truth than she liked. Confused by her own feelings, she moved toward the fire and tossed another log on.
Did she like Dane? Really? Or did she only like playing with him? Where had her hate gone? She had been brimming with it earlier this week, and yet now she couldn’t seem to muster it.
There was no question that the two of them were compatible together—every time he touched her, her entire body exploded into feeling, every nerve ending singing with delight. No question that he knew how to touch her and what she wanted in bed. But relationships weren’t built on that, and she didn’t want a relationship with the man. She wanted to make his ass sorry for what he’d done to her nine years ago, and then shake the dust of this small, annoying town off her boots. She wanted to leave the Boobs of Bluebonnet behind. She wanted a life that didn’t involve Dane Croft.
Didn’t she?
And yet…she stared down at the camp around her. She’d worked hard this afternoon to make her camp perfect. Her fire was roaring, her shelter done, and he’d find no fault with it. She’d tried extra hard this week so he wouldn’t think of her as lazy. She’d never complained, even when she was dripping with sweat. She wanted him to like her, too.