Michelle put her phone in her purse, adjusted her Marc Jacobs—letting the strap rest more comfortably on her shoulder—and read over the single sheet of paper she’d been given as instructions for this survival course.
The first part of the day would be spent in the classroom, learning from lectures. After a break for dinner, she and her class would take their newly learned skills and apply them to the wilderness. She glanced at her cute booties, jeans, and airy blouse and felt good about the adventure to come. She’d followed directions from her closed toe shoes to bringing only a small bag of necessities that the instructions stated “you can’t live without.”
With a final breath and determination on her face, she walked into the classroom and prepared herself to walk out as a goddess of adventure and independence.
“No way are you sticking me with this,” Dex Young said, trying really hard not to punctuate his words with a giant middle finger to his boss. Gage was more like his drinking buddy, but whatever.
“You just have to do the outdoor wilderness survival part tonight. I taught the class already,” Gage said.
“Then why the hell don’t you finish teaching this damn day in the wilderness? This was your grand idea to get more people in the community involved.” Dex liked Gage, they were friends, and yeah, he was the head of the North Carolina Search and Rescue sector, but this whole novelty “day in the life of a wilderness guru where you get taught how to make fire” was not what Dex had signed up for. He was actually good at what he did and didn’t want to teach a group of glorified tourists how to fashion a tent from tree limbs.
He’d been there, done that, and it was always the same. A bunch of rich people looking for something to talk to their friends about later. “I survived in the wild!” they’d say, and Dex always wanted to vomit, because seriously, braving the wilderness didn’t come with four-star campers or sangria by the fire. A fire that Dex always had to make for the upper-class assholes, because rubbing some sticks together would get their precious hands dirty.
This whole damn thing was a nightmare, and he hated it.
“I told you I’m not doing this bullshit ‘adventure for the one percent’ explorations anymore.” These outings gave him migraines, and after last week’s Millionaire’s Club, he was certain a tumor was forming behind his right eye. One more yuppie looking for “an experience,” and Dex would claw his face off.
“Look, Chloe called me, and she needs me home tonight. So suck it up, and teach the class. It’s only for tonight. Don’t kill anyone or let them die, and you’ll get your hours.”
Shit, his hours. Well, he couldn’t argue against that point. Not if he wanted to keep his damn job.
Dex had been doing search and rescue for years, and he was due for recertification. He’d been out of town a lot on missions, but now that the summer was coming to a close, he was back home for the long haul. He had to log eighteen hours of “training” for his job. At the very least, this stupid class would count for something.
“I get my hours doing this and you’ll sign off, so I can be done with the recertification?”
“Yep,” Gage said and slapped Dex’s back. “The group is a small one, but they’re meeting at outpost twenty-seven on the edge of the forest in…” He glanced at his watch. “Now. So you better get moving.”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” Dex grumbled.
“Love you too, bro.” With that, Gage took off.
Dex got in his truck, checked his rucksack, and drove to the outpost. When he got to the small cabin, he stopped and looked around.
Nature. He was surrounded by nature.
Which was why the lone woman bending over in what had to the be the tightest jeans he’d ever seen, looked out of place and fucking amazing all at the same time.
And I didn’t think nature could get any better…
He was wrong. One look at that A+ ass and long legs and damn, nature got a hell of a lot better.
“You with the wilderness group?” he called, walking up behind Perfect-Ass Barbie.
She stood up straight and turned to face him. Christ, he thought the back was a sight, but the front was even better. She was tall and trim and had some sexy curves that defied logic. A pile of red hair was secured back tightly, and her wide blue eyes put a Carolina sky to shame.
“I think I am the wilderness group,” she replied, then bent down again to flick a leaf off of her black heeled shoe contraptions. He couldn’t really call them boots; rather, some pretty imitation of what real hiking boots were. No, he didn’t know what the hell was on her feet, but they sure weren’t practical. With all the straps and laces and what had to be a solid four-inch heel, he didn’t even know if they were functional.
“I was told there was a group,” he tried again.