time,” Grant said, grabbing a blanket and tucking it around them.
Sometimes Grant could be so sweet, Jami thought as Toby leaned against her while Grant regaled them with camp-tales, edited for her six-year-old’s ears. In an odd way, it felt as if they were a family.
Eventually, Grant slid his arm around Jami, scooting close to her as they watched the firelight. Flames from the campfire flickered and flared, dancing with colors from blue and violet to scarlet and orange to yellow and white. Shadows grew to move eerily in the firelight, spooking Jami and her sleepy boy. Several times in the middle of Grant’s storytelling, she and Toby jumped as the fire cracked and popped or when they heard an animal skitter through the brush.
Despite the enthralling tales delivered in a skillful manner, Toby gradually nodded off, resting against her breast.
“Time for bed,” Grant announced, steadying Jami by the shoulders as he stood. He stretched and yawned, seeming enormous in the play of light from the campfire, his startling shadow even larger as it cast on the dome tent behind them.
Toby blinked open his eyes at that moment, then screamed and pointed at Grant’s elongated shadow, which to a child could be terrifying.
Jami jumped, then pulled her son tighter into her arms. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s just Grant’s shadow.”
“Looks like a grizzly,” Toby defended, his voice trembling along with the rest of him.
“Close,” Jami whispered, aware that Grant was equally as dangerous in a totally different way.
“I resent that,” Grant retorted playfully, boosting Toby up for a big hug. “This is a bear hug. Since you accused me of being a grizzly, you owe me one.”
“I like bear hugs.” Toby giggled, nuzzling against Grant’s broad chest and clinging tight.
Jami swallowed a lump in her throat as she again witnessed the bond between her son and Grant. How would the child respond when they were ripped apart? When Grant returned to his bachelor life and walked away?
“Be careful, Toby,” Jami admonished, schooling her emotions. “You’ll get Grant all sticky.”
“I’ll clean up the dinner mess, if you take charge of this one,” Grant said with a deep chuckle as he handed Toby over to his mother. “I’ll heat some water in a pan for you.”
“No need.” Jami took hold of Toby, but quickly lowered him to the ground. He was growing so fast and was much heavier now. “I have hand sanitizer and moist wipes in my bag.”
Grant mocked, “On melted marshmallow?”
“We’ll manage,” Jami muttered under her breath, guiding Toby toward her pup tent. Why did Grant have to challenge every decision she made? She’d cleaned worse messes off Toby before and certainly without Mr. Carrington’s help. Without anyone’s help. She didn’t need advice or intervention when it concerned her son.
Thank goodness they were returning to the lodge after breakfast in the morning. After wasting a half box of wet wipes cleaning off Toby, she’d be lucky to make it through the overnighter before her supply ran out. Maybe she should have accepted Grant’s offer of heated water.
“Here you go.” Grant appeared at the entrance of the dome tent offering a bottle of water.
“You read my mind?”
“I didn’t think wet wipes would be practical when you two brushed your teeth. Oh, I added some logs to the fire to give you more light.”
“Thanks.” Quickly, they were ready for bed and she tucked her sleepy one into a sleeping bag.
“Mom, Grant’s stronger than a bear, isn’t he?” Toby drowsily asked, eyelids fluttering closed.
“Maybe,” Jami replied, kissing her son’s now lemon-scented, but clean, forehead. “So don’t worry about bears or anything.”
“Okay,” Toby mumbled, scooting lower in the sleeping bag. “But I don’t have my dream-catcher.”
“Grant will keep you safe,” Jami whispered, knowing the words she spoke were true. Why had she insisted on sleeping in the pup tent? She glanced at the stack of camping things filling her spot and sighed. Too late to change her mind.
Isolated and alone in the stuffy, limited space of the dark pup tent, the tiny beam from her key chain light flickering around the interior like a panicked firefly, Jami held her breath. She identified the chirping crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and possibly frogs croaking, but many other sounds echoed through the night. Unidentifiable sounds.
Unaccustomed to such a state of nervousness, Jami twisted in her sleeping bag on the hard ground trying to get comfortable. How could a grown woman let a few cries of wild animals alarm her? Ugh. She was such a city