a part of the spoiled little brat that is still pissed about not being able to get the new toy she wanted.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, standing up meet him face to face.
“Really? What’s not fair about it? That I paid for it before you did? That’s pretty fair to me. That’s how commerce works, you know?”
He was good with words. I had to give him that. Me… not so much.
“God, you’re an asshole,” I said simply, and turned away, headed towards the scraggly trees behind me.
“I’m an asshole with a pilot’s license. Which is more than you can say.”
I had a sigh of frustration, wanting to scream. I got up and turned my back on him, walking away.
“That's right, Mac. Go pout,” he said behind me.
I walked into the trees, not daring to look behind me. I walked aimlessly among the scrub spruce for a while, kicking up sand and debris. I heard him splashing back out into the plane, rummaging around inside of it. I so badly wanted to get back out there and yell at him. But I wasn’t sure what I could yell at him about.
I knew that even if I had have gotten the plane first, I would have done the same thing as he had. I would have taken it to a mechanic and had it serviced before flying out. But he had been right. Then what? It’s not like I could have flown the thing.
I really am being a bitch.
The thought hurt, but there it was plain and simple. I looked up to the sky, hoping to calm myself, but it did no good. The night was cloudy and only a few stars shined through. As I tried to gather myself, I heard the door to the plane slam shut. This was followed by more small splashes. I looked back towards the plane and saw Jack walking up to the beach with a duffel bag in his hand.
He had taken his shirt off and had it flung over his shoulder. God, why couldn't it be a dark, moonless night? I watched him from the trees as he opened the duffel bag. He took out a small hand towel stained with grease and oil, using it to wipe himself down. He then pulled a dingy tee shirt out of the bag and slid it on. I watched closely, feeling slight depressed when his chest and abs were covered by the shirt.
It didn’t matter how much I hated him. The man looked good with his shirt off. He looked like a fitness model, almost. Watching him, I was again struck by the sensation that I had seen him somewhere before.
He continued to dig through the duffel bag and as he did, my curiosity (and, I like to think, my common decency) drive me out of the cover of the trees. I walked slowly to the area where he was going through the bag.
“Can I do any—,”
“No,” he snapped. “You keep pouting. I’ll make sure we stay warm.” Jack motioned to the woods, not looking at me.
I bit my tongue at the remark I found wanting to creep out of my mouth. I watched as he took out a small kit with a lighter, bandages, and bottles of water. It looked like some crude little survival kit.
“Did you pack all of that?” I asked.
“No. Mr. Tanner did, a long time ago. He said he always kept it on board in the event of a crash.”
“Smart.”
Jack said nothing. He was still shivering. Although he had swapped shirts, his pants were still soaked. The thought was in my head before I could stop it…wondering what he might look like if he decided to take those off to dry.
A spike of heat ran through my body at that. It was particularly prominent within an area of my body that had seen very little action in the last two years or so. I shivered. I wanted Jack.
“You really want to help?” he said, pulling me from my erotic thoughts of us together.
“Yes.”
“Go back into the trees. Find some wood. Nothing big… just broken branches. Something to start a fire.”
I gritted my teeth. “I know what sort of tender we need for a fire,” I said flatly. “I own a sporting goods store.”
He shrugged and I thought I heard a mumbled “whatever,” as I turned and headed back for the woods.
As I gathered up wood for kindling and then kicked aside some larger fallen branches, I kept glancing back out to