“A reasonable question,” Kelsey murmured.
“Yeah, well, I sort of, um, told him that I had a consultant. A local consultant. Someone who could help guide the project.”
Kelsey’s stomach fell somewhere below her knees. She realized then that she had been maintaining a secret hope that he was eventually going to beg her to be with him, despite all the obvious and rational reasons for them to stay apart. “And do I happen to know this mysterious consultant?”
Another pregnant pause. “See, that’s why I wanted to talk to you in person. It sounds awful like this, I know. But it made perfect sense at the time. He just kept telling me that someone from New York could never appreciate what he saw in his land. He asked me if I had hiked out there, or camped or fished or hunted—or done anything that might give me an appreciation for what I’d be developing. And I had to admit that I hadn’t, and I probably should. So I told him that I knew someone who would help me.”
“I like this Stagefeather guy more and more all the time,” Kelsey said, savage now that she realized exactly how she was going to be used. “And I like you less and less.”
His voice dropped. “Kelsey, you know how much the kids need me right now. If I lose this deal, I’m not sure I can look them in the eyes. Besides, I think I can do some good here. Herriot’s going to come after Stagefeather no matter what I do. If I can get him a good deal for his land, some kind of settlement in his favor…” He trailed off. She pictured him rubbing his eyes with a tired hand, just the way he had on Friday when he got home from his meeting with Herriot. “All I’m asking is for you to spend a little time with me, maybe give me some ideas for places I should visit or things I should do. I told Stagefeather I was going to take the kids camping out there this weekend and he said I could stop by and talk to him afterward. I thought maybe you could recommend somewhere for us to go.”
Kelsey barked a laugh. “You? Camping? Have you ever been camping before?”
“No.”
“There’s just a lot of Forest Service roads out there—no trails to speak of. How are you going to hike? Do you have any idea how to navigate in the backcountry? Can you use a compass? Ever looked at a topographic map before?”
“No. And no.”
“You’re going to get lost,” she warned. “You’re going to get lost, and run out of water, and the kids are going to be hot and tired and miserable.”
“As long as we’re being optimistic, can you also foresee me throwing out my back as I’m trying to piggyback Julia up a mountain while carrying a tent and most of our worldly possessions? Do you think Stagefeather would judge me if I brought an AeroBed camping?”
Kelsey closed her eyes. She laughed helplessly. “You’re a mess, Bencher.”
“I know. That’s why I need you.”
The words were too close to being exactly what she wanted to hear, and for a moment, something snugged tight and hard around her heart, and she had to stop to catch her breath.
“What do you want, exactly?” she asked.
“I suppose in the best case, I might convince you to come camping with us this weekend. Show us how it’s done. Take us on a hike. Explain how the hell you use a compass. Teach me what Stagefeather wants me to know.”
Heroin, Kelsey. Heroin.
“And in the worst case?”
He sighed. “You come over and we get out a map. You point out a few trails. We look at a website and you help me figure out what gear to buy.”
She shuddered. “You want me to point out things for you to buy? As in, you’d buy a brand-new tent, some hiking boots, and a camp stove and head out into the wilderness hoping for the best?”
“We won’t go far,” Ross said, his voice full of bluster and confidence. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Kelsey wandered into the kitchen. She stared at the stainless steel sink, full of bottles and pacifiers, a half-drunk cup of coffee and dirty plate on the counter. Marie must have really had her hands full today if she hadn’t managed to clean up after herself. Absently, she opened the dishwasher and started to load the dirty dishes.
“We’ll be fine,” he continued. Then, just slightly nervous, he added, “Don’t you think?”
She slammed the dishwasher door shut. Now he’d managed to trigger all her protective instincts. Her sense of responsibility. Her inner safety freak. “You,” she said crisply, “are an idiot. Do you really think I could let you wander around out there with the kids and no earthly idea what the heck you’re doing?”