Page 105 of First Bride to Fall
…
Nell grumbled and set the smelly frying pan aside to soak. Then she washed and dried the sticky pot for the grits. She’d hoped to avoid cleaning for Grant today, but oh well. These were just some dishes, and she wasn’t going to let him best her over this. He’d made the meal anyway, so her cleaning up afterward was actually an equitable division of labor. It would have beennicerif they’d agreed to it beforehand, but they hadn’t.
She wasn’t so sure about her camping assignment today, or what he intended to gain from it. He clearly believed that setting up camp would overwhelm her, but no, it wouldn’t. She was smart and determined and really good at learning new things. She’d chopped wood, hadn’t she? And she’d liked it. She’d probably like camping, too. Maybe she’d never do that with Grant after she got him to dump her, but at least she would have learned another skill. And improving her skill set felt good! Made her more confident that she could tackle anything. Even going off to England to marry Aidan if it came to that.
Grant was still determined to get rid of her. But she wasn’t leaving until she was good and ready. And she’d be ready whenhesaid the goodbyes. She was tougher than she looked. If Grant was going to double down, then she was going to triple that. No. Quadruple. Quintuple. Grant might be missing the Q in his Scrabble game, but Nell fully had her wits about her.
She’d had him so on the spot with her Robby questions this morning, she wished she’d captured a photo of his face. He’d been totally cornered, trapped by his own lies, and yet he’d been far too stubborn to tell her the truth. Grant Williams wasn’t the only one around here who could hold his ground. She could, too.
Her gaze roved over the heap of camping equipment piled up near the sofa, landing on the tent bag. It seemed larger than it had first appeared now that she knew it slept six people. He’d obviously tried to make this as hard on her as he could by selecting an enormous tent. But that was okay. The tent came with instructions, so that was good. She had them spread out on the kitchen table and had been looking them over after Grant had gone. The tent setup did appear rather complex, but she was used to intricate work with her knitting. She could do this.
She tidied up the kitchen, deciding to leave the frying pan for later. Once she got the tent knocked out, she wouldn’t need to start the campfire or make the hot dogs until closer to dusk when he was due to return. That was hours away, and she’d have loads of free time before then. That would give her a chance to take care of the pan, relax, and wrap up her knitting. Grant’s hat was almost done, although she doubted very seriously that she’d be giving it to him at this point. He surely didn’t deserve all the love she’d put into it, but maybe some lucky buyer on Etsy would.
Operation Ditch Me had come with a lot more baggage than she’d anticipated, but step by step she’d been unpacking it all and staying her course. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Grant’s face when he got back and noticed the set-up tent and a campfire glowing. How long could he possibly keep this up? He seemed more and more guilty over his absurd requests, like he was secretly regretting his scheme. Well, good! Let his regret build up a little higher, to the point where he’d admit what he was doing and apologize for it.
And if he wouldn’t? That was fine, too. No way on earth did she want to have a future with him any longer. He’d totally blown that chance.
She dragged all the camping stuff into the backyard, but unlike Grant being able to haul everything at once, she had to make three trips. Four, if you count the fact that she carried the camp stove and its small butane tank separately. She had this irrational fear of dropping the butane tank so it exploded in flames. She’d already set off the cabin’s smoke alarm once; she didn’t need to catch the entire building on fire, despite the fact that she’d joked about that with Grant earlier. She understood now that had been a lame joke.
There! She finally made it. The day was crisp and clear and only a tad chilly, so she was warm enough in her cardigan, not needing her jacket as an extra layer. She undid the bedroll and unrolled the sleeping bag on top of it. Hmm, that’s funny. There was only one bedroll and a sleeping bag, and not two of each. Maybe that didn’t matter, since this was just for practice. In any case, the sleeping bag would give her someplace to sit while she figured out the tent setup.
First, though: campfire.
She hunted around by the edge of the woods, locating several mid-size stones. She hauled them over, forming a ring near the bedroll. Then she went back into the woods, picking up sticks.
If she had been camping with Charlotte and Misty, this would have been her number one pick for a job: stick-gatherer. She dropped them all in a heap in the center of the rock ring and then went over to the woodpile, searching for bigger pieces. She selected a few and dumped them on top of the twigs.
She wanted to have it lit and burning cheerily when Grant returned. If she had trouble getting it going, she could always use the camp stove for the hot dogs. Assuming she could hook it up. She stooped to examine it. Hmm. Didn’t look too hard.
The tent, on the other hand…
She stared at the massive amounts of overlapping metal poles that she’d dumped out of the tent bag and onto the ground. The tent itself had tumbled out, too. Its material was lighter than canvas, maybe nylon or something similar, and it was dark green.
She stretched it out on the lawn.
It was enormous. Maybe fifteen feet across. Whoa.
The diagram she’d studied on the kitchen table showed it came together in a hexagon shape. It had little mesh windows, a big zipper door with a flap thingy you could prop up in front of it like an awning, and cool LED lights in the ceiling.
But wait.
Nell hunted around on the ground and lifted up some poles.
Next, she peeked under the bedroll.
The instructions. Where were they?
…
When he reached the stream, Grant slapped his forehead. He’d been so intent on his interactions with Nell he’d forgotten his cooler. That infuriating woman. He could not let her get the best of him. He’d never drive her off successfully then. If she got him so twisted up in knots that he accidentally confirmed what he knew she suspected, she’d just dig in her heels and stay.
And this washiscabin. His domain. He owned it. At least, until yesterday. Now he wasn’t sure who was getting the best of whom in this tug-of-war contest. He was certain about who was going to arise victorious, though. Him. He was a man with a plan. All he had to do was continue acting on it—without Nell’s interference with her coyly playing along like she was so cool with everything. Seriously. She’d never survive today.
He returned to the cabin as stealthily as he could and stole through its front door. The kitchen had been neatened up except for the large frying pan he’d used for the fish. That sat soaking in the sink. He spied Nell through the glass panel in the back door sitting on the bedroll. She kept picking up different tent poles and staring at them before setting them back down.
Grant chuckled.
She’ll never figure that out.
