“Some of us don’t enjoy being covered in dirt.” I give him a sweet smile, folding my arms.
“You planning on picking it up?” He nods to the tarp.
“Well, obviously. I wasn’t going to justleaveit here.”
Thought about it.
It’s Jack’s turn to fold his arms, looking all smug. “Then do it.”
How dare he make that sound so attractive?
The thing is, retrieving the tarp might prove problematic. I should have done it before getting all strapped up. But now that Marigold’s on my back, the squatting required to pick up the tarp won’t be pretty. There will be grunting. Possibly cursing. And a lady has to keep it classy when everything is working against her aesthetically, especially when I already look like a wet gremlin.
Forcing my sweetest smile, I keep my eyes fixed on Jack and step closer to kick the side of the tarp, sending it wafting into the air. With the confidence of a magician executing apre-planned trick, I reach up and catch the tarp, just before the darn thing drops a cloud of dust into my eyes. Jack watches me sputter and blink away the grit as I attempt to refold it, but I catch the tiniest hint of a smile on one side of his mouth, despite my temporary partial blindness.
Yup. I’m going to enjoy having him around.
I silently return to the path, Jack following close behind.
“So you’re undercover today?”
“What were you taking pictures of earlier?” he probes, ignoring my question. He does that often. I’ll have to address that once we’re officially friends.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And I was getting a photo of my backpack.” All my effort is going into talking without sounding like I’ve just birthed a baby, even though I’m pretty sure we haven’t even walked four miles.
Jack is silent, lips pursed in thought, so I take it as permission to speak. “So if you’re undercover, that would mean you’re investigating something…”
I come to a sharp stop, gripping the rock wall beside me so Marigold doesn’t send me toppling over as I twist around, and Jack barely avoids crashing into me.
“Wait…” My head rears back, brows dipping. “You’re followingme? Like, I’m your stakeout assignment?”
The idea that this man legitimately suspects nefarious activity on my part is so laughable, so outrageous, yet I’m stunned silent. Little old me?
“You can’t be serious,” I scoff when he doesn’t reply right away, my anger rising. This trip was for proving I can finish something, and maybe processing some childhood trauma, but certainly not for convincing a stupidly handsome man that I’m not a criminal.
“And what exactly do you suspect I’ve committed,Jacques?”
“Jack,” he corrects, his jaw pulsing. It bugs him when I do that.Good.
But my nostrils flare as I try to stifle a giggle. I can’t even stay mad at him.
“Look, either tell me what I’m being accused of, or let me be on my way. Make a definitive statement.”
Is it bad that I hope he does the former? I’m not ready to part ways. And I haven’t committed a crime, so there’s no real harm, right? I can work through my trauma and get through this hike successfully with Jack by my side.
“We should carry on.” His finger does a twirl, gesturing for me to pivot and resume hiking.
My eyes narrow before I give in, but only because I still need to pee and there’s another restroom coming up.
“You have a girlfriend, Jackson?”
“What made you decide to do this hike?”
“So you get to ask questions, but I don’t?” I snort. “Answer mine first, Detective.”
His sigh drifts over the scuffle of our feet on the path. What caused the heaviness he walks around with? There’s something hidden beneath all that gruffness, and I want to find the best, prettiest shovel and dig it out.
He doesn’t answer this time, either. And as much as I wanted a quiet, solo adventure, the silence kind of gets to me. My brain is used to busyness, since I fill my time and head with little projects and social media content, as well as the occasional half-hearted attempts to complete my assignments for my sports journalism major.