Family + Camp (working title)

Chapter 22 Part 1: Digesting

"I know I don't know you that well," Cash's voice floated from behind her. "But you look like you're thinking pretty hard."

His words made Nell aware that she was frowning. Immediately and without her meaning to, the frown deepened. "This is just the way I always look."

"No, it's not," he said, walking over to her, hands in his shorts pockets.

Nell let go of the frown in semi-fake surprise. "I thought you just said that you don't know me that well."

Cash dropped his hands from his pockets and raised them up in a shrug. "I know people, though. You've got the thoughtful thing going."

She laughed. "It really wasn't that deep. I was trying to decide if I should go back to my house and get my bike. But if I go home, I will probably fall onto my bed and start snoozing."

"Really?" Cash said. "You're probably the only one feeling this way. That lunch fueled me up."

"Really?"

"Hell, no. I want to curl up in the sun right over there and start cutting logs." He pointed to a particularly sun-dappled spot on a picnic bench between two trees. "I could lie right on that table and just go for it."

"It is great spot." Nell checked her watch. "Only fifteen minutes left before the meeting."

"Is your dad a stickler for punctuality?"

"He's—hey are you trying to get trade secrets from me?"

"No!" Cash's cheeks suddenly flushed. It happened before her very eyes. She had genuinely embarrassed him! But there was always truth behind embarrassment. Perhaps he had thought about it. Perhaps he had considered getting cozy with the boss's daughter in order the get the inside scoop. In order to do better.

Nell didn't care that he felt uncomfortable. "You're blushing. You're guilty."

"I am not! I mean, yes, I am—I mean, no, I am not guilty."

She sighed. "It's okay. You're not the first to try and use me for my connections."

"Oh my god—" He put his face in his hands.

Nell took pity on him. She reached up and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm just messing with you. I really don't care what your motivations are."

He dragged his hands down and away from his face, but he didn't look too upset. "I don't have any motivations." His voice was calm, but she didn't buy it.

"Okay," she said, now trying to appease him. Appeasing was not really Nell's thing. Stirring things up was more her style. But she liked Cash. At least, she wanted to like him. "I believe you. Sort of."

"I get the feeling you're a ball-buster."

"Do you want to go sit on that table?" she said. "I'll go with you."

Cash nodded. "I really do."

They walked over to the sunny spot. The day was hot, but the table had some shade on it. The trees really did keep things cool. Nell imagined all the oxygen they were generating.

She scooted onto the end of the table and lay back. Her sunglasses were tucked into the collar of her T-shirt—she almost never went anywhere without them—and she put them on. Closing her eyes behind them, she gave a nice big sigh.

"Um, what are you doing?" Cash's voice floated above her, close to her face. She did not open her eyes.

"I'm digesting."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"But you took my spot. The table was my idea."

"It was a brilliant idea," she murmured. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Where am I supposed to go?"

Nell held up her hands for a moment before letting them drop onto her belly. "Wherever you want. The bench. The ground. Next to me. It's all good."

She could sense his hesitation. And then, there he was, scooting onto the table top. But instead of lying next to her, he lay down from the opposite end of the table. Because he was taller, longer, the top of his head at her elbow. She could smell the clean washed fragrance of his blue cotton T-shirt, and the underlying smell of his own body, the sweat that had formed from whatever this morning's exertions had been. It was not an unpleasant scent.