Chapter 14 Colton

CHAPTER 14

Colton

I'M SHIVERING WHEN I come up for air, clinging to my Stetson to keep it from floating away. Riley sputters beside me as she attempts to stand in the muddy creek. Her hair is plastered to her head, her face is smeared with dirt, and her clothes are sopping wet. She seems perfectly fine, other than being a bit waterlogged.

Brushing my hands over my face, I shake off as much water as I can, but it soaks into my pores and latches on.

"This is unbelievable," Riley huffs, and spins away, dragging herself toward the edge of the creek pool. She looks like a zombie as she eases her way through the muck, her hair stringy from the water and her gait uneven. I follow in my own lunging way, hauling myself toward the edge, slowed down by mud and soaked jeans.

Getting out of the water is one thing, but figuring out how to get out of the creek bed is another. There's a pretty steep slope back up no matter which way you look, and with the recent rains, it's not much better than a mud pit.

Dammit.

I can't believe this happened. I should have known better than to let Riley stand by the edge of the shelf. This is why I can't afford to be distracted out here. Someone might get hurt.

"Okay, Colton," she says, spinning around in a circle to take in our surroundings. "Now what?"

Maybe we could swim out? But the current's heading away from the camp, and I have no idea how long we'd be in the water before finding a suitable exit point. And what if she's not a strong swimmer?

We could try hiking upstream in the shallows along the edge of the creek. The creek bed is fairly wide here, but it could narrow or disappear altogether farther up, leaving us in a worse situation than we're in now.

I suppose we could always stay put and wait for someone to come find us. Although, it could be a long while before anyone notices we're missing. Once the sun goes down, it'll get pretty cold, especially with our wet clothes.

"Well?" she prods.

I respond with a shrug. "I'm not sure."

"You seem sure about everything else," she mutters.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"Um," is all I can manage.

She crosses her arms and stares up at the ledge. "I'm not afraid of worms, or bugs, or wildlife, like you think. This isn't my first time fishing. Grandpa Bob would even call me a decent angler. And no matter what you think, I'm not some stupid, helpless girl who only cares about shopping or whatever it is that makes a Prairie Princess a Prairie Princess. Probably the only thing you have right about me is that this"—she holds out a mud-coated arm and gestures in large sweeping circles—"is pretty much the last place on earth I want to be right now."

A cold drop of water glides down my back. "For the record, I don't exactly want to be stuck here, either," I say, wiping some more muck from my face.

"You think I'm upset about this?" She points to the mud at her feet and shakes her head. "Why, because our little dip potentially ruined my new hiking boots?"

This feels very much like a trick question, where I'll be wrong no matter what answer I give, so I roll my shoulders and keep my mouth shut.

"I hate these hiking boots." Riley kicks her toe against the shoreline. "They rub against my pinkie toes, and I don't even want to think about the blisters I'll get now that they're soaking wet. What I'd really love are my broken-in Salomon X Ultra hiking boots with a Gore-Tex lining, but those are wherever my lost luggage is." She steps forward until we're toe to toe. Hair is plastered to her forehead and there's a smudge of dirt on her cheek that I'm tempted to wipe clean. I'm not sure I've ever been so captivated. Her pupils shrink as she glares at me. "I've done plenty of camping, and hiking, and fishing," she continues. "But, to you, I'm just the helpless ditz from California with the new hiking boots trying to break them in on the trail because I couldn't be bothered to plan ahead, right?"

I blink, dumbfounded.

Riley stares at me for a moment, the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes practically blazing. "You've got nothing to say?" She somehow manages to toss her hair like it's not weighed down with frigid creek water. "Nothing at all?"

I sense another trap.

This is not…

I don't…

She tosses up her hands and steps back. "You really are tall, dark, and irksome," she says.

"Wait, what?" I ask, finally able to find my voice.

Riley ignores me as she attempts to scramble up the slick bank like a mountain goat. She plants her foot on the embankment and reaches to pull herself up. The mud gives way beneath her toe and she slides down a foot or so. Her second try, she makes it only a yard farther before sliding back down again.

"You should try grabbing hold of the roots," I suggest, which earns me a glare.

"Excellent idea," she says in such a sickening-sweet tone, I have to resist the urge to cringe. "Why don't you try it?"

"Fine. Maybe I will."

"Fine."

She stands next to me with her hands on her hips while I assess my climbing options. Once I have the route mapped out in my mind, I scramble up a small slope that leads to a steeper incline. I manage to make it only slightly higher than she did before I start to slip, but this time, more of the embankment gives way. Twisting, I tumble into her, tangling our legs and knocking her into the mud beneath me. My hands sink down beside her head as I try to push myself off her, but as the muck oozes between my fingers, our faces get closer and closer.

There's a moment when our eyes meet and her gaze softens, and I think maybe it could be nice to lean down and see if her lips are truly as smooth as they look. It's been on my mind since the raccoon incident. I hesitate for a moment and the hard glare returns.

"You idiot," she snaps, attempting to push me off her. But the mud acts like rubber cement and the best I can do is roll us onto our sides.

"Me? What did I do?"

That earns me an epic eye roll. "What did you do?" she asks, her pitch increasing with each word. "What did you do? As if you don't know."

But she doesn't actually tell me what I did that has her so pissed at me. It's not like I purposely caused the edge of the embankment to crumble beneath us. I didn't plan on ending up in this mud pit fit for a hog. If she's still so bent out of shape over the Prairie Princess comment, I doubt any amount of apologizing would fix it. But then again, wouldn't a Prairie Princess blame me for something completely beyond my control?

"I don't," I insist.

She winces and closes her eyes, and I belatedly realize she might be injured. "Are you hurt?"

"There is mud seeping into places mud should not go," she says through clenched teeth.

I do my best to keep from having dirty thoughts, but…mud.

Getting free of the mud is no easy feat. I struggle to my knees, then ease up to standing, lifting victorious arms over my head when I'm finally upright.

"Impressive," she says, staring up at me from her semi-reclined position. "Nine points for difficulty and ten for execution. You really know how to stick a landing."

"Was that a joke?" I reach down to haul Riley up, and her fingers intertwine with mine. I don't miss the way our palms press together or how nice it is to hold her hand in mine.

Then I wonder if I smacked my head on the way down. I release her like she's a hot potato and attempt to brush some of the mud off my butt, but stop when I realize I'm only making it worse.

"Prairie Princesses never joke," Riley says, straightening her shoulders. But there's a bit of a smirk building on her lips and a glint in her eye. Standing there, with dirt splattered all over her face and her hair slicked back, she's prettier now than she was the first time I set eyes on her. Which makes no sense, since she's an absolute mess.

Hell, I feel like I have whiplash.

Riley brushes her hands over her arms and shivers. She turns back to the monumental hill we have to climb. Not particularly high or dangerous, but as I found out in multiple ways just now, it's a slippery slope nonetheless.