“Okay. You have a couple of options. The camp has restrooms. They are a fair walk from here, or you can pee in the woods.”
“Pee in the woods? Aren’t there critters in there?”
“Yeah, they have to have a home, Cate.”
“So, like pee in the woods. What if I’m peeing in the woods, and a snake jumps up and bites Louise?”
He clamps his lips together and it’s so obvious he’s trying his best not to laugh. I let him know. “Don’t you laugh at me, Drew McKnight. I’m scared to pee in the woods and I hate snakes. Louise does too.”
“Louise loves my snake, Cate.”
I punch him in the arm. “That’s not fair. This is real. I have to pee and I’m afraid.”
“Right. I’ll go with you and ward off any wayward snakes that might be thinking of jumping up and biting Louise. How’s that?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What about other varmints, like rats and ’possum?”
He slowly inhales and clamps his lips again. Then he stands, holds out his hand, rifles through a bag, and pulls out a roll of toilet paper. He turns on a flashlight and leads the way into the woods.
When he finds the perfect spot, he says, “Here.” And turns his back while I squat to pee. But in my haste, I do something really stupid. I yank my jeans down and leave on my unders, so I pee my pants. “OH NO!”
“What?” he spins to face me.
“I just peed my pants!”
“How’d you do that?”
I explain and he drops the flashlight as he doubles over laughing. Now we have to hunt the flashlight and I’m stumbling around trying to get my jeans off without getting my pee on them.
“So you peed on your ‘unders’? I’m not sure what’s funnier. You peeing on yourself or the fact that you call them unders.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s what my mom calls them so I just sort of inherited the term.”
“I see. So, unders then.”
“Yeah. Shit! Did you find the flashlight?”
Laughing, he says, “Yeah.”
I get straightened out and decide to walk back to the tent bare-assed so I can clean myself up appropriately. Drew laughs all the way back and I can’t blame him.
“Can anyone see me like this?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, the water spigot is behind the tent so it blocks the view. Here’s some soap and a washcloth if you want to clean off.”
“Thank you for being so prepared.”
“Eagle Scout.”
I grumble and become the speedy cleaner-upper and am back in my jeans in no time.
“I cannot believe I did something so dumb.”
“Uh, I’d have to agree.”
Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake to hear all kinds of noises—growling, scratching, and other creature sounds.
“Drew! Something’s trying to tear up our tent!”
“Huh?” a sleepy Drew asks.
“There’s something outside of the tent trying to get us! Wake up!”
“It’s nothing. Probably a raccoon. Go back to sleep.”
He conks back out, leaving me to fret, awake. Of course, the giant, man-eating animals threatening to shred our tent and eat us alive resume their activities. I know there are dozens of them right outside of that flimsy piece of fabric that affords me zero protection from the monstrous beasts. I pull the sleeping bag over my head, as if that will help. But the noises grow even louder.
“Drew! Wake up! I think there’s a grizzly out there!”
He sits straight up in the tent and his head wobbles around like one of those old timey bobble headed dolls. I think he’s still asleep. So I grab his arm and shake him.
“Waaakkkeee uppppp! There’s a bear out there!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Something is trying to eat us alive!”
One hand rubs his eyes. “Jesus. Cate, nothing is out there, other than pesky raccoons or maybe skunks.”
“SKUNKS! WHAT THE HELL!”
Immediately, I scramble for the tent exit. Only there’s a problem. I’m still zipped in my sleeping bag, and it’s one of those mummy styles that narrow at the feet. In my crazed state, I try to stand, but end up taking a three-inch step and face plant in the dirt right outside the entrance to the tent. Now, I’m frantically trying to get up and run from the so-called grizzly bear or skunks that threaten to eat or stink me to death. My arms flail and I can’t do anything because of the stupid sleeping bag. Two arms grab me and haul me backward into the tent. I’m a mermaid out of water, wrapped in downy fluff, thrashing around like a madwoman. That is until a strong and sexy body traps me under it, grabs my chin, and plants a searing hot kiss on my lips. Heat replaces panic, and my arms stop flailing and find their way around his neck, fingers winding into his thick waves. What’s that mewling? It’s only after he lifts his mouth off mine that I realize it’s me.
“Much better,” he says. “There is no bear, sweetheart. You’re perfectly safe in here with me. What do I need to do to prove it to you?”
“I-I don’t know. I’m really scared.”
“I know and I don’t want you to be. Let’s have a look around outside. Would that make you feel better?”
“Maybe,” I say, my voice squeaking.