Follow A Wild Heart (romance,) by Bobby Hutchinson Page A
Authors: Bobby Hutchinson
Tags: General Fiction
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to be married."
Logan gave a humorless laugh. It had hurt, Brenda's rejection. "Unencumbered, was the word she used. I was mad and hurt and sorry for myself for quite awhile, but now you mention it, I know we'd have ended up a statistic in short order if we'd gotten married."
"Do you think you ever will?" The question was out before she had time to wonder how it sounded. "Get married, I mean?"
"Yes." He sounded absolutely positive, and he swiftly turned the tables on her. "And you?"
There was a long pause. It was something she wondered a lot about, but didn't figure was too likely. "I don't know. I doubt it sometimes." She deliberately turned it into a joke. "I'm getting pretty old, you know. There's Danny, and now there's Mort. I figure he's the tiebreaker. How many guys do you know who would live in the bush with a twelve year old who hates to bathe, where there's no electricity to shave with and a moose calf who eats wool socks?" She skipped the underwear.
He figured he knew one for sure. But he was also pretty certain it might be a mistake to say so quite yet.
"Here's the turnoff for the state park," he said instead. This early, the parking area Logan drove to was still half empty when they reached it, and Lake Itasca shimmered in the morning sunlight. With the feeling of coming home that natural settings, lakes and woodlands always gave her, Karena slid out of the car.
"Stiff from sitting?" He loved watching the pure pleasure wash over her features as she looked around and stretched her arms over her head in an almost pagan gesture of pure joy.
"A bit. Isn't it great here, the air and the birds?"
"Yes, especially great this morning, having you here to share it."
His compliments made her shy, and she walked over to where a sign gave facts about the Mississippi River, which originated here at Itasca Park. "It says here the name Itasca means true source," she remarked.
"The Mississippi starts here as a little stream flowing from the lake," Logan confirmed. "Hard to believe this same stream is the mighty river that winds its way to the Gulf of Mexico. The big joke, of course, is that you can walk across the Mississippi here without even getting your feet wet, as long as the water level's this low." He grabbed her hand and hurried her along beside him. "C'mon, let's do it. You can tell your grandchildren you waded across the Mississippi with me."
There were rough stepping stones in the shallow stream for that very purpose, and Logan took her hand and carefully guided her across and back as if she were breakable. Karena marveled at how protective he was.
"Wouldn't want you falling in," he said, solicitously holding her around the waist, and Karena suppressed a grin. Balancing on a rolling log on water should be good training for walking across a couple of flat rocks, but if Logan thought she needed help, why protest? She couldn't remember a man being protective of her since she was about two years old, and it felt surprisingly good.
Still, she supposed it was hard for a man to feel protective about a woman who could hurl a double-bladed ax at a tree, hitting it with uncanny accuracy each time. She was glad suddenly that Logan hadn't attended last night's events. It felt wonderful to be treated as if she were fragile.
"Let's walk over by the lake. It's so clear this morning, isn't it?" she enthused, and he nodded and took her hand.
It felt nice to have her fingers linked in his large, warm hand. Her own hand, which was anything but dainty, still fitted inside his comfortably. She'd noticed that detail yesterday.
The pastoral setting was beginning to have its effect on her, easing away the tensions of the past few days of too many people, too much noise and the pressure of competition. Karena tipped her head back, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sky, drawing into her lungs the clean fresh air, the invigorating smell of water and woods, the heady delight of being in an environment she loved.
"This
Logan gave a humorless laugh. It had hurt, Brenda's rejection. "Unencumbered, was the word she used. I was mad and hurt and sorry for myself for quite awhile, but now you mention it, I know we'd have ended up a statistic in short order if we'd gotten married."
"Do you think you ever will?" The question was out before she had time to wonder how it sounded. "Get married, I mean?"
"Yes." He sounded absolutely positive, and he swiftly turned the tables on her. "And you?"
There was a long pause. It was something she wondered a lot about, but didn't figure was too likely. "I don't know. I doubt it sometimes." She deliberately turned it into a joke. "I'm getting pretty old, you know. There's Danny, and now there's Mort. I figure he's the tiebreaker. How many guys do you know who would live in the bush with a twelve year old who hates to bathe, where there's no electricity to shave with and a moose calf who eats wool socks?" She skipped the underwear.
He figured he knew one for sure. But he was also pretty certain it might be a mistake to say so quite yet.
"Here's the turnoff for the state park," he said instead. This early, the parking area Logan drove to was still half empty when they reached it, and Lake Itasca shimmered in the morning sunlight. With the feeling of coming home that natural settings, lakes and woodlands always gave her, Karena slid out of the car.
"Stiff from sitting?" He loved watching the pure pleasure wash over her features as she looked around and stretched her arms over her head in an almost pagan gesture of pure joy.
"A bit. Isn't it great here, the air and the birds?"
"Yes, especially great this morning, having you here to share it."
His compliments made her shy, and she walked over to where a sign gave facts about the Mississippi River, which originated here at Itasca Park. "It says here the name Itasca means true source," she remarked.
"The Mississippi starts here as a little stream flowing from the lake," Logan confirmed. "Hard to believe this same stream is the mighty river that winds its way to the Gulf of Mexico. The big joke, of course, is that you can walk across the Mississippi here without even getting your feet wet, as long as the water level's this low." He grabbed her hand and hurried her along beside him. "C'mon, let's do it. You can tell your grandchildren you waded across the Mississippi with me."
There were rough stepping stones in the shallow stream for that very purpose, and Logan took her hand and carefully guided her across and back as if she were breakable. Karena marveled at how protective he was.
"Wouldn't want you falling in," he said, solicitously holding her around the waist, and Karena suppressed a grin. Balancing on a rolling log on water should be good training for walking across a couple of flat rocks, but if Logan thought she needed help, why protest? She couldn't remember a man being protective of her since she was about two years old, and it felt surprisingly good.
Still, she supposed it was hard for a man to feel protective about a woman who could hurl a double-bladed ax at a tree, hitting it with uncanny accuracy each time. She was glad suddenly that Logan hadn't attended last night's events. It felt wonderful to be treated as if she were fragile.
"Let's walk over by the lake. It's so clear this morning, isn't it?" she enthused, and he nodded and took her hand.
It felt nice to have her fingers linked in his large, warm hand. Her own hand, which was anything but dainty, still fitted inside his comfortably. She'd noticed that detail yesterday.
The pastoral setting was beginning to have its effect on her, easing away the tensions of the past few days of too many people, too much noise and the pressure of competition. Karena tipped her head back, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sky, drawing into her lungs the clean fresh air, the invigorating smell of water and woods, the heady delight of being in an environment she loved.
"This
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