Love in Maine by Connie Falconeri Page B

for trying to convince her that most
     people wanted just this or just that for quick satisfaction. That he wanted to use
     people like he used the tools of his trade. He couldn’t even use his own brain openly
     without feeling like he was a showy bastard.
    He turned off the radio and drove the rest of the way in silence, enjoying the slow,
     even rhythm of Maddie’s steady breathing. Especially the occasional sleepy hum and
     sigh.

CHAPTER 5
    “Are we here?” Maddie was groggy. “How long was I asleep?”
    She looked up at the bright sun reflecting through the tall trees that shaded the
     car. Hank turned off the engine.
    “Hey, did you have a good rest?”
    Maddie was slower and softer when she was just waking up. She hadn’t had time to marshal
     her resources, thought Hank. He reached out and caressed her cheek where she’d just
     lifted it away from the upholstery.
    “Yeah.” She put her hand over his. “It’s nice to wake up to you.” She closed her eyes
     again, still half-asleep.
    Hank felt something hot and slow slice through him, like an evisceration. He left
     his hand on her cheek—mostly because hers had trapped his beneath it—and it would
     have seemed rude to yank it away. But he wanted to yank it away.
    He cleared his throat. She released her hand and arched her back to stretch her neck
     and shoulders after being asleep in that awkward position. He stared at her chest
     and then opened his door and stepped out of the car. It was even worse when she wasn’t
     intentionally trying to mess with him.
    Walking to the back of the truck, Hank shook his head to clear the image of all that
     nakedness right there under that T-shirt and sports bra. He started undoing the ropes
     and bungees that held the canoe in place and then paused to watch Maddie let herself
     out of her side of the cab, leaving the door open. She bent down and stretched, placing
     her hands flat on the bed of pine needles—and her ass in the air—and then reached
     up as high as she could, standing on her tiptoes.
    She let her arms down slowly, then turned to look at him.
    “So how far are we going?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I thought we were going for some kind of deep-woods version of Camping with the Stars. I want the full military treatment. I can take it.”
    “You can, can you?”
    “Yeah, no girls on trip.”
    “What’s that?” He was back to untying the restraints. Maddie had leaned into the backseat
     to start unloading the tent and the backpacks and other gear Hank had brought along.
    She leaned her head out so she could see him. “No. Girls. On. Trip.”
    He started laughing. “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It’s an old family joke. I’m the youngest. I have three older brothers. And I am
     a girl.” She smirked and curtseyed. “As you can see.”
    He smiled. “Yeah, I see.”
    She leaned back in to get the canoe paddles, then shut the car door. “My older brothers
     used to go hiking with my dad, and when I was about ten or eleven I said I wanted
     to go, and my brothers started chanting, ‘no-girls-on-trip.’ So I’ve got a little
     bit of a complex, I guess.”
    Hank pulled the canoe out of the bed of the truck and flipped the gate back up into
     place.
    “Well, I like girls-on-trip, so we’re good.”
    She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “You make no sense to me, Henry
     Gilbertson.”
    He shrugged. “Oh well. Luckily I never promised to make sense to you.”
    She smiled, deciding not to get drawn into another nit-picky argument about semantics
     and who promised what to whom, and tried not to feel sad about promises that Hank
     didn’t want to make.
    “Okay, how should we portage?” Maddie lifted up her backpack. “Also, this is really
     light, so if you want me to carry the tent, I can attach it to the bottom of the pack.”
    “First of all, we are not going to portage the canoe. I am going to portage the canoe. And yes, tie the tent onto your pack and