“That’s not possible.” He joined her at the table. “I could lend you a hairbrush if you’re desperate and don’t think that’s icky.”
“After four years in the army, little seems icky anymore.”
He smiled. “Ain’t that the truth. Cereal for breakfast, I’m afraid.”
“That sounds so good. I’m ravenous. Something about fresh air.”
“The air’s fresher outside,” he joked. “It might make you even hungrier.” But he didn’t jump up immediately to get breakfast and she was grateful for that. She wanted her coffee first, and then maybe she’d be capable of helping him.
Feeling around in her pocket, she found a scrunchy and pulled her hair back from her face into a loose ponytail.
“I’m sorry it’s chilly in here, but I let the fire go out overnight.”
“We wouldn’t want a forest fire.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m fine, really.” She looked down at the arms of her shirt. “You must wonder why I’m always covered in paint.”
“Actually no. You’re an artist. Why, do you get asked a lot?”
“It annoyed my ex-boyfriend. Somehow that little black dress I tried to keep in the closet for important occasions always managed to get messed up like everything else. I joke that the paint jumps out of the tubes at me. Maybe I’m just sloppy.”
“Well, I’ve painted some. Not oil painting but other kinds. The funny thing about paint is that it seems to go everywhere, and you don’t notice it on your elbow, or the sole of your shoe, or wherever, until you’ve messed up something else.”
She flashed him a grin. “You do understand.”
“Yup.”
“If I catch it soon enough, sometimes I can get it out. But too often the pigment is a permanent stain anyway.” She shook her head. “I look for cheap clothes because I know that before long they’re going to be painting clothes.”
“That’s hardly a crime.”
“Well, it feels grungy when you look like you just stepped out of a recruiting manual.”
He laughed. “Only because I picked up my stuff from the dry cleaner yesterday. Besides, I have to meet certain job standards. It’s not always easy when I’m out in the woods for days on end.”
“I wouldn’t think so. Life was easier in some ways when we wore cammies.”
“Not if you were getting them splattered with paint, too.”
He made her laugh, and he did it so easily. She liked this man. She felt a sort of bond with him already, probably because they shared some background, but bond aside, she just liked him. He seemed to have a naturally upbeat nature, and if she had a choice, that’s how she wanted to be, too.
He finally got the cereal and a quart of milk from the truck and a couple cheap plastic bowls and metal spoons from the cupboard. The silence felt companionable as they ate and then washed up, this time in cold water.
“Let’s get you back to town,” he said as he rolled up the sleeping bags. “On the way I want to talk to you about the wisdom of coming back into Buddy’s vicinity to paint.”
“I thought I’d given you my opinion.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t press mine again.”
“Not a quitter, huh?”
“No more than you.”
“Dang marines,” she said, but not seriously. That just drew another laugh from him.
Sky was an appealing woman, and he liked what he’d seen of her personality so far. It troubled him, what had happened to her yesterday, for her sake. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to believe you had left all that bad stuff behind only to have it rear up without warning while sitting in a perfectly safe place on a warm, sunny day. That had to leave her feeling insecure.
So he could understand why she didn’t want to give ground to Buddy and his outsized paranoia. It would mean giving up something else, and of course she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to face things and get on with life.
And she was probably wondering if Buddy had been the cause of her slip at all. Two days later must make it seem unlikely to her.
He damned the fact that he spent so much time alone. It made him a dull conversationalist. He wasn’t one to just make conversation anymore. Maybe he never had been, but days spent alone in the company of the forest, days during which his only human contact might be radioing in to headquarters, had an effect. For the first time he wondered if it was a bad one.