See Jane Fall (10 page)

Wait now, Jane
, she counseled
herself
.
There was a big difference between Ben and Lars.
She hadn’t seen it coming with Ben. It had shocked her to see him
switch gears to be with Samara; it had hurt her to watch him lose
interest so quickly.

She’d felt ashamed of herself—foolish—for
sleeping with him so impetuously, without a commitment, without the
safety of true regard. She had, more or less, recklessly
given
herself to Ben physically and emotionally. She
certainly would never be that stupid again.

But, benefitting from experience, the
situation with Lars
could
be different, couldn’t it? She
could engineer it differently in her head. Jane could take a more
modern, less emotional, approach with Lars. She didn’t have to
fall
for him, did she? She certainly didn’t have to sleep
with him. She could just enjoy his company and a light flirtation
before Samara arrived, with the full knowledge that he would turn
his back and walk away the moment her cousin blew into town. As
long as she knew that would happen, it wouldn’t hurt, right? If she
could anticipate it, she could brace for it. Be ready.

You might be modern, Jane, but you’re not
that modern. If you let him get close, you’ll take a fall when he
chooses Samara. That’s all there is to it. Better just stick to
business and not risk that long, hard fall. Business.

She looked over at him again, at the way his
tan, muscular hands gripped the steering wheel. Her fingers tingled
with the memory of holding that hand, the rough, calloused skin
under her soft fingers as he pulled her closer to the bison. Her
face softened.

It’s not his fault that you like and can’t
have him. You could be a little warmer, Jane. Player or not, he’s
been nothing but nice to you.

“Been a stressful morning,” she sighed,
taking her phone from her lap and putting it back in her backpack.
“Sort of nice not to have a cell signal.”

“I told you.”

“You did. I’ll have to believe you when you
school me on these things, Professor.”

He grinned at her, easy, amenable,
uncomplicated. It was part of why she liked him so much. “When it
comes to Yeller, I am pretty knowledgeable, missy.”

“Hmmm. That sounds almost like a dare.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Okay…how many acres in the park?”

“Two million, two hundred and twenty
thousand.”

“How many…waterfalls?”

“Five percent of the park is covered in
water but that includes an unknown number of waterfalls. Probably
hundreds.”

He knows his stuff.
She rewarded him
with a surprised smile. “How many different animals live in the
park?”

“Sixty-seven species of mammals…did you want
bird and fish life too?”

“You’re a
cocky
so-and-so! Um,
visitors!”

“That’s not a question, Jane. Are you asking
how many people visit annually?”

Jane rolled her eyes at him and he
chuckled.

“Three million, give or take.”

“Give or take what?”

“One cute, wise-ass chick from New
York.”

“When’s
she
getting here? She sounds
like a blast.”

“She
can
be.” He said this slowly,
without taking his eyes off the road.

Interesting. Okay. Maybe I deserve that
after this morning’s cold front.

“Those wise-ass New York chicks are often
under untold pressure, you know.”

“You forgot cute. I said
cute
,
wise—”

“I didn’t forget anything.”

“You
know
you’re cute, right,
Jane?”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t true.”

“All part of the service.”

“Nope, that’s my personal opinion.”

Jane had had just about enough. “You don’t
have to do that.” An edge crept into her tone.

He pulled over to the side of the road, put
the car in park and cut the engine, looking at her. “I don’t have
to do what?”

“You don’t need to butter me up. You don’t
need to flatter me. I’m the assistant. Let me school
you
here, Professor… I’m the girl that’s the
friend
, Lars. I’m
the girl you
talk to
about the girl you’re going out with on
Friday night. I’m the girl who tells you which restaurant to take
her to and what kind of wine she hopes you’ll order. I’ll even come
over beforehand and help you pick out what shirt to wear, and if
you forget your wallet while you’re out with her, I’ll jimmy your
bedroom window open, find it in the pants you wore yesterday and
drive it over to the restaurant. And when I hand it to you, she’ll
look at me like I’m nothing…and—”

“Jane.”

“What?”

“Stop talking.” In an instant he had
unsnapped his seatbelt, unsnapped hers, slipped one arm around her
waist and pulled her across the seat next to him.

He placed his hands on either side of her
face and before she could completely get her head around what was
about to happen, she felt his lips brush gently, but firmly, across
hers.

Her eyes closed, tearing up from the
unexpected sweetness of his reassurance, and as her lips opened in
surprise, she kissed him back. His fingers played with her curls,
tilting her face exactly how he wanted it, moving his lips with
more urgency.

She lowered her hands to rest her knuckles
on his thighs, and he moved his hands from her face down her arms
to her hips where she felt his fingers curl into fists along the
waistband of her jeans as the kiss deepened, as he slipped his
tongue into her mouth and pulled her closer to him. His tongue
plunged deeper, satiny and stroking, making her dizzy from the
contact, her breathing fast and fierce as her palms pushed down on
the iron muscles of his thighs.

Her heart pounded, her head was spinning,
her insides a swirling mess of longing and warning, feuding in the
overwhelmed territory between her head and her heart. She felt his
fingers graze the skin of her waist under her shirt, which made
goose bumps rise all over her body, somehow prompting her back to
reality.

“Wait.” Jane drew back, panting. She didn’t
dare look into his eyes, staring at her hands on his leg instead,
listening to the sound of her breathing, which was amplified in her
ears, heavy and ragged.

She unfurled her fingers and reached up to
touch the tender, hot skin of her lips with a tentative caress,
finally looking up at Lars. He was watching her, searching her face
with a frank, unapologetic, unwavering gaze. She read it quickly:
Hungry for more, but happy with what he’d just gotten.

He released her hips and smiled, reaching up
to push an errant curl back from her forehead before leaning back
into his seat. “You’ve got it all wrong, Jane Mays.”

No. You’ve got it all wrong, Lars
Lindstrom. You haven’t met Samara yet. You don’t know what I
know.
She stared at him, unsmiling, conflicted between her
growing feelings for him and the pain of loss she’d feel later.

“It is what it is, Minx. Sometimes it just
sneaks up on you.”

“What does that mean?”

He leaned over her to pull her seatbelt back
over her chest and she felt his breath hot against her cheek. She
closed her eyes, longing pooling again in her belly and making her
heart race.

“It means…you’re different,” he growled
lightly in her ear. “Come to the Labor Day fireworks in the park
with me tomorrow night.”

“M-more sightseeing?” she murmured.

“Nuh-uh.” He rubbed his stubbled cheek
lightly against her flushed one and she felt his breath hot on her
earlobe. “A date.”

She swallowed, distracted by a thick haze of
desire, her insides melting to liquid. Her pulse pounded in her
ears. “A date?”

“Mm-hm.” She heard her seatbelt click into
place and she realized he wasn’t in her immediate space anymore.
Her eyes popped open, confused, and he was smiling at her from his
seat, amused, delighted.

She straightened up, running both hands
through her hair. “I don’t know. I…”

“Such enthusiasm, Jane! You’d think you
didn’t like me one bit.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Aw, Minx. All evidence to the
contrary.”

“
So
conceited.”

“So adorable.”

Adorable! She grinned at him in spite of
herself. “So
forgiven
…again.”

“So…how about it?”

She shook her head, all resistance fading,
and her decision to be only friends thrown out the window with the
rest of her self-control. She surrendered.

“Yes. I will go see fireworks with you
tomorrow night.”
And we will have one sweet evening together
before Samara turns your head on Tuesday
. She thought of Ray’s
text, trying to hush her misgivings.
I deserve it. I do.

“Fireworks. Excellent.” He winked at her and
buckled his own seatbelt. When he turned the key, the car didn’t
start. He tried again, but it grated and crunched.

Lars looked at her, trying again, and smiled
when the engine finally turned over. “She’s temperamental
sometimes. Like a cute wise-ass I know from New York.”

And that time, because he said it so
sweetly, she didn’t argue.

***

Darn it,
she thought, walking over to
the Prairie Dawn that evening, she had meant to ask Lars how the
heck you play euchre. But with the entire day fraught with sexual
tension or packed with actual work, she never got around to it.

After he had kissed her and coaxed her out
on a date tomorrow night, they had turned on The Beach Boys
Endless Summer
and spent the remainder of the day singing
along, bonding over favorites (hers: “Surfer Girl” and “Don’t Worry
Baby” and his: “Fun Fun Fun” and “I Get Around”—
not
surprisingly
, thought Jane dryly, remembering Maggie’s words
about Lars having “an eye for the ladies.” They feuded over the
worst song on the album, which he said was “In My Room” and she
insisted was “Wendy.”

The locations Lars had scouted for the photo
shoot were inspired. They were all within about an hour of Gardiner
on the Grand Loop to keep travel time to a minimum, but they were
evocative, dramatic and beautiful, and would create a masterful
editorial, possibly Samara’s best yet.

The plan was to set out for one location
each day—a full crew from
Trend
, in addition to the
photographer, Samara’s team, Jane and Lars—on Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday of this week. They prayed that the weather would hold
each day, or the shoot would carry over into the second week. The
Trend
people had already been out two weeks before, scouting
with Lars until they were satisfied with the locations, so Jane was
really only taking pictures for Samara, per her request, so that
she could anticipate her surroundings each day.

Jane used her Nikon to take shots of each of
the three locations from different angles. The stark architectural
beauty of Sheepeater Cliff, made of basalt columns. Old Faithful
geyser, which proved
un
faithful in the short time Jane
visited, but for which she knew they would wait a full day to get
the right shot with Samara. Lastly, Lars had a chosen a spot on
Yellowstone Lake that he told Jane was his favorite.

As she took photos from a boardwalk that
separated Black Pool from Yellowstone Lake, Lars leaned against the
railing, looking out over the lake. Jane had lowered her camera to
watch him for a moment, to take in his worn, faded jeans slung low
on his hips, long legs and cowboy boots peeking out from
underneath. He had on a white golf shirt, stark against his tan
skin, which made his ice-blue eyes seem even more piercing. She
raised her camera and took a picture of him in partial profile, his
blond hair like burnished silver in the light of the afternoon sun.
He heard the camera shutter and turned to her with an expectant
look, a lazy smile tugging at her heart.

“What are we taking pictures of, Minx?”

“Can’t help it if you’re in my shot.”

He had tilted his head to the side then, and
she took one more: Lars smiling at Jane.

Later, in her hotel room, Jane was careful
to re-name and copy those two photos, and put them in their own
separate folder, called simply
Lars
. One day, weeks from
now, when she was home in chilly New York, she could open that file
and remember the warm sunshine of today, the way his lips had felt
when he kissed her, the fleeting sweetness of knowing he wanted
her, even though by then he would surely be long lost to her. She
could still have her memories, and the photos to prove that once
upon a time Lars Lindstrom really happened to Jane Mays and for
once in her life, Jane knew what it was like to be the pretty
one.

She opened the door to the Prairie Dawn and,
glancing at the teenage girl working at the coffee bar, searched
the room for her new friends. Upon finding them she did a double
take, because she was sure she was looking at Maggie, Paul and
Lars
, but a deeper look confirmed that while the family
resemblance was striking, she was actually looking at Maggie, Paul
and
Nils
, Lars’s older brother.

Maggie saw Jane and stood up, waving her
over.

“Jane! You made it! Grand!”

She made her way around the eclectic
furniture of the coffee shop to join them.

“Heya, Paul.” She grinned. “How’re things
with Miss Mystic?”

He smiled easily, winking at Jane. “I’ll
tell you all about it, Janie.”

She turned her eyes to Nils. “I’d know you
for a Lindstrom anywhere.”

“The New Yorker. Good to know you.” They
shook hands and Maggie went to get Jane a cup of coffee. Jane took
the empty seat between Paul and Maggie, facing Nils, who shuffled a
deck of cards distractedly.

“Lars doing a good job?” he asked her.

“Very good,” she answered. “Saw all of the
scouted locations today.”