Love Finds You

Love Finds You - Part 13

Chapter 13

          "Is this where you guys would go camping?" Jen asked, looking around as Zack worked on getting a fire started.

Zack chuckled under his breath. "Hardly. Camping involves a tent and a fishing pole."

"And a fire pit and dirt and logs." Jen gestured to her surroundings.

Zack looked up at her, his eyes full of amusement. "Have you ever been camping?"

"I... well," Jen stammered, "I have heard of it and seen lots of movies and..."

"So, you've never been camping." It wasn't a question.

"Well, no. Not technically, but I'm not exactly a dirt and smoke kind of girl."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Zack pulled some things out of an ice chest.

"I don't really like dirty things."

"And yet you live in New York City," Zack laughed.

"I resent that," Jen told him. "New York is very beautiful, even if some areas aren't always clean."

"Nor is the air," Zack reminded her.

"I'm not talking about the air Zack. I'm talking about straight up dirt under my shoes, smoke in my eyes, bugs, and wild animals. What if we get attacked by wolves?"

Zack pulled a flat metal thing and a backpack from the truck bed. "There aren't any wolves out here sweetheart."

Jen felt a slight annoyance. He's using pet names now? Zack walked back to the fire with the supplies. She decided to try and enjoy the evening despite it being a little out of her comfort zone. She sat down on the log, brushing it off first to make sure there were no spiders or other creatures on it.

"You should have told me we were coming out here."

"You wouldn't have said yes if I'd told you."

She knew that was true, so she just ignored it. She rubbed her bare arms up and down. It was past nine o'clock now and the sun was all but gone. "At least I would have known to bring a jacket," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Zack turned to his backpack and pulled out a jacket; his jacket. Without a word he walked behind her and placed it around her shoulders. His hands lingered on her arms. "If I had told you to bring a jacket, I wouldn't have been able to give you mine," he whispered behind her.

Jen shifted as tingles from his warm breath by her ear traveled down her spine. Zack returned to the ice chest and pulled out a beer. He popped off the cap and handed it to her. She accepted without a word. As she sipped, she pulled the jacket a little tighter. It smelled like him and she discreetly breathed in the scent. Zack LaFaye may end up being a serial killer, con artist, and plain old pain in the butt, but dang, he sure did smell good. A few minutes passed before Zack finally spoke.

"Do you like brats?"

"Excuse me?"

"Brats, like bratwurst?" He held up a package.

"Oh yeah, hot dogs? They're okay."

"They aren't hot dogs; these are turkey sausage bratwurst. So much better than a hot dog." He opened the package and stuck one on the end of a metal poker stick, then he handed it to Jen.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" she asked, feeling sheepish.

"You're supposed to cook it over the fire." He put another on his stick and moved to sit next to her on the log. He lowered his brat over the fire and sighed as he got comfortable. Jen mimicked his motion and they sat there in silence, listening to the fire crackle. Every couple minutes Zack pulled his brat up to look at it, then put it back over the fire.