Free Stay With Me by Carolyn Astfalk Page B

the park before and knew that this wasn’t out of the
ordinary. Because of their elevation, the clouds were closer and heightened the
storm’s intensity.
    “It’s just a thunderstorm. It’ll pass.”
    Her bag rustled as she shifted onto her side to
face him. Despite the fact that it had cooled, even inside the tent, she
wrestled her arm out from her twisted sleeping bag and groped for his hand.
Lying on his side now, too, he took her hand in his and held it lightly,
rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.
    Lightning flashed, followed immediately by another
loud crack of thunder. They were right in the thick of it.  Her hand tightened
around his.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “Yeah. I like thunderstorms, but this one is
fierce, and it caught me off guard.”
    For a half hour or more they laid awake, their
hands squeezed together, talking only about the storm and whether it was
letting up. By the time the thunder had stopped and the rain had diminished to
a steady patter on the tent, Rebecca’s soft, even breaths told him she had
fallen asleep.

 
     
     
    6
    Crash Into Me
     
    Chris didn’t know which had woken him—the sunlight
streaming through the skylight, the birds chattering in the treetops, or the
persistent rustling outside the tent. Maybe it was the faint odor of skunk
lingering in the air. After studying the shadows of the leaves, twigs and other
debris the night’s storm left on the outside of the tent, he looked at Rebecca,
who faced away from him now. Sometime during the night their hands must have
separated.
    He pushed down his sleeping bag and crept to the
tent door, careful to make as little noise as possible. After unzipping the
door, he slipped into his unlaced boots and stepped around the side of the
tent. He discovered the source of the rustling: a fat raccoon. It nudged aside
the base of the tent, searching for something.
    Chris kept his distance and waved the raccoon off.
The last thing he needed was to wake Rebecca and have her pepper him with
questions about raccoons, rabies, and God forbid—menstruation.
    “Shoo, shoo. Get out of here.”
    “Chris?”
    Uh-oh. “I’m right out here. Just a pesky
little varmint.” He shooed the masked rodent one more time, and it scurried off
into the weeds.
    Chris went back into the tent to find Rebecca wide
awake. She had rolled back over so that she faced his empty bag.
    Sleep had mussed her wavy brown hair, making it
look even fuller and giving her a natural, slightly-untamed look. Her wide,
brown eyes looked like matching pools of melted milk chocolate. The sleeping
bag silhouetted the gentle slope from her feet to her hips, the dramatic dip of
her waist, and the rise to her shoulder. She took his breath away and had him
rethinking his whole “no fooling around” promise.
    What would it be like to wake up to that every
morning? He doubted he’d ever get to work on time again. Chris didn’t know if
he could manage a coherent conversation or whether he should even try. It would
probably be better if he left.
    “Everything okay?” She tilted her head as if it
would help her understand, but it just made her hair fall from her shoulder to
her bust line.
    Sure, everything’s fine if you
think spontaneous human combustion is okay. “Yep...Just, uh, a...” He jerked
his thumb toward the side of the tent. “A, uh, an animal. Got rid of it.” He
forced himself to look away and slipped back out the door. “I’m going to get
some dry wood and start a fire for breakfast.”
    ***
    Rebecca shoved down her bag and folded her legs in
front of her. She pulled a hair ribbon from the pocket on the tent wall,
dragged her fingers through her hair, and pulled it back into a messy ponytail.
    Nothing like having a cute guy that you’re falling
for see you first thing in the morning. That should dispel any illusions he
might have about her. With her wild hair, tired eyes, and oily face maybe he
wouldn’t notice her worn, baggy, makeshift pajamas. She