Free Scarlet Fever by April Hill Page B

in the sex department. They'd made love twice more in the night, and the second and third time, he'd taken his own sweet time about it. Anne had learned several new positions, as well as some dirty words in Gaelic and, when she'd finally fallen asleep after the third go-round, she'd been so exhausted and sated and sore, her final thought had been she'd never wake again.
    But she did, and discovered that the snow must have stopped not long after it started, as there were no more than three or four additional inches on the ground. She knew that the stable weather meant he’d be packing up to leave camp, after all. And to leave her . That was why he’d fixed up the cabin. So she’d be warmer, and safer, not to seduce her. Had that been an accident? Something he never intended?
    Trying not to cry, she crawled into the front seat of the cockpit, and began sorting through the pile of bags he’d stored on the floor during the “redecorating.” She was rummaging through her smaller suitcase, hoping to find her makeup bag, when her fingers touched an unexpected item that brought a smile to her tear-streaked face. It was a minute cardboard box, labeled Top Notch Grille, Good Food, Great Booze. A tiny, completely-full box of matches.
    Breakfast! Maybe nothing but outdated canned bacon and applesauce, but hot. And hot tea, from slightly mildewed teabags. A feast fit for a king and queen.
    Under the belly of the plane, and beneath the ripped tarpaulin, she found some of the junk Geoff had removed from the back. Dry firewood, without the risk of running into Mama bear and her kids.
    She had the fire going and the bacon already sizzling when he stepped out of the plane and into the fresh snow. He looked around, then stomped his feet to test the depth, and her heart sank. He was going to leave. Today.
    When he approached the fire, he was smiling, but she knew the smile was for her benefit. He was doing his best to put a good face on a rotten situation.
    “All right, what’s your secret?” he asked, pointing to the fire. “Or have you been practicing rubbing two sticks together?
    She reached into the pocket of her parka and pulled out the little box of matches.
    “Merry Christmas! Oh, do you say Merry Christmas in Canada?”
    “We do, but we usually start saying it three months from now.” He took the box she handed him. “What’s this?”
    “A very early Christmas present.”
    He slid the box open, and grinned. “Well, that answers my first question. Next question, and be careful about what you say. How far did you have to go from the plane to find the wood?”
    “It was under the plane,” she said brightly. “With all the crap you tossed out. It burns great, too.”
    “Yes, I should think it would, but in the future, would you mind not using the furniture to cook with?”
    “What?”
    “That box you’re burning was going to be our new dining table. Now, we’ll have no table, and only one chair.”
    She frowned. “Chair? Are you talking about that other old box? The broken one, with the?”
    He rolled his eyes heavenward. “So much for gracious living." He reached down and selected a wooden slat from the small pile that remained.
    “I’m getting spanked for this?” she asked innocently.
    “No, I suppose not. It was an accident. Besides, if that should become necessary, the canoe paddle will probably do a much better job.”
    Anne gulped. “You don’t mean the short paddle, do you? That crummy old thing that went with the inflatable boat? With all those patches? That leaked?”
    “You burned the canoe paddle, too?”
    “Why would anyone need a paddle, if they didn’t even have a boat?” she asked sweetly.
    He pulled her up, and used the wooden slat to deliver two quick swats to her rear end. The two blows were apparently test swats. The third one wasn’t.
    “ OW-W-W! *#&$(^*$#*! You goddamned son of a…”
    “Say it, and I add another twenty,” he said. “Minus the long-johns and the black lace