Page 14 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
He shook his head. “There’s a bigger station just south of here that’s easier to get at from town. Since there hasn’t been a forest fire on this side of the ridge in years, no one comes up here but me.”
“Why would you have to come here?”
“For my job. I make sure all the outposts in the county are in good shape. Basically, that the power still works and the pipes haven’t busted. Jess and Silas came up with me once to go hunting, but that’s about all the traffic this place has seen in five years.”
His definition of “good shape” was different from mine, but at least I was hidden. When he’d said that I’d be off the grid, he hadn’t been kidding.
“There.” He stood from the floor and swiped the wood bits off his hands. “That should keep us warm tonight. Let’s head on out to the biffy and then I’ll set up your cot.”
Outhouse? No, thanks. “I’ll just hold it.”
He bent low and captured my hand, pulling me up from the chair. His tug was gentle but firm. I was going to the “biffy” whether I liked it or not.
“Fine,” I grumbled. I needed to pee and would be even more uncomfortable if I tried to hold it all night.
He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked across the room. My fingers looked dainty and childlike in his meaty grip. Nabbing a flashlight from the kitchen counter, he led me into the night, pulling me behind him as he followed a narrow footpath toward the outhouse.
The foul odor hit me when we were five feet away and my free hand flew to my nose.
Just get in and get out. Pee faster than you’ve ever peed in your life.
Beau dropped my hand to open the door and handed me the flashlight. Breathing through my mouth, I stepped into the small wooden room and lifted the lid on the hole.
“Oh my god.” I gagged. “I’m in an outhouse.”
I set down the flashlight, hovering over the seat to do my business. Mortification turned to horror when I realized that Beau could definitely hear me peeing. Men were so lucky. I’d kill for the ability to pee standing up right now.
I finished, foregoing the nasty toilet paper by the hole and yanked up my leggings before bursting out the door, walking back to the outpost as quickly as my ankle would allow.
Behind me, Beau chuckled.
“I’m so glad you find this entertaining.”
“Don’t get all riled up. I’m not trying to torture you.”
But torture was exactly what this was. The back of my throat started to burn as my eyes filled with water. A hiccup escaped and I swallowed hard, forcing down others. I’d never felt so embarrassed. Anton had beaten away most of my self-confidence this morning. I’d been holding on to one last remaining sliver but Beau’s laughter at my outhouse reaction had just shredded it to pieces.
“Hey,” Beau said softly, clamping a hand on my shoulder and stopping me on the trail. The heat from his broad chest was at my back. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, just the situation. I’m used to this type of stuff and I’ve never really been around someone who wasn’t. I apologize if I hurt your feelings.”
I was grateful for his apology but it did little to lift my spirits. He saw me as a foolish city girl who would never fit into his raw and rugged world. I was the spoiled princess who required indoor plumbing and a dirt-free abode. He was the rough and tough guy who would be the only man standing after a zombie apocalypse.
Of course he would laugh at me. Of course he would pity me. I was ridiculous here.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can we just go inside? I want this awful day to end.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Sure.”
Back inside, he worked quickly to set up a metal-framed camping cot and roll out a thick canvas sleeping bag for my bed. From my duffel bag, I tugged out the pillow I’d borrowed from Felicity and pressed the fluffy down against my face. Her familiar scent brought back the lump in my throat. The floral smell would soon be replaced with campfire, the clean white cotton soon smudged with dirt. The good tainted with the unfamiliar.
I contemplated changing into pajamas but quickly dismissed the thought. I barely had the energy to sink onto the cot and toe off my shoes. Tucking myself into the sleeping bag, I burrowed deep, taking a few long inhales of Beau’s woodsy scent, which lingered on the red flannel lining. Hugging my pillow tight, I watched as Beau laid out his own sleeping bag on the floor.
“Don’t you have a cot? Or a pillow?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Silly me. Mountain men didn’t need trivial things such as cots and pillows.
Beau stoked the fire one last time before settling into his bedding and crossing his arms behind his head.
