The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) (20 page)

She was on the phone with a plastic surgeon in the
ambulance on the way to the hospital and by morning, I’d
already had surgery on my face.

I lift my hand now and feel the place where the
scar would have been. Instead, the skin is smooth and perfect, almost
no sign of the mistake I’d made when I was a little girl.

And they’d done the same thing a few days
ago when I crashed that car. Driving drunk is one of the dumbest
things I’ve ever done in my life. I could have died. I could
have killed someone else. I probably deserved to go to jail or to
have my license suspended.

But Tripp Wright’s daughter can’t have
a spot on her record like that. So they fixed it.

Money can fix almost anything.

But it can’t fix your heart. And it can’t
make you a better person.

I want what Mason wants. I want to be a better
person. The kind of person who appreciates what she has and who sees
the best in others instead of someone who automatically assumes
everyone has ulterior motives.

I stare down at the tent and know that if I give
up now and go home, I’ll spend the rest of my life under the
wings of my parents and their money. I’ll never really learn to
do anything for myself. I’ll never have the chance to really
know what I’m capable of.

And what is that going to teach my child someday?

I’m being pulled in two different
directions. I don’t want life to be hard. I like having money.
But at the same time, I don’t want to be the kind of person who
never really experiences life. I don’t want to live on a
pedestal anymore.

I bend over and take the first piece of metal in
my hand. I can do this, right? How hard can it really be to put a
tent together? I study the various pieces, putting myself into it. I
figure out which side is the bottom of the tent and spread it out on
the smoothest part of the ground. Then, I start putting the stakes in
the ground, tying them off. The ground is soft, so getting them into
the ground turns out to be a lot easier than I thought it would be.

The whole thing falls over on me twice before I
really figure out how it works, but I’m getting there.

I see the men by the fire have all turned their
chairs around to watch me and the woman with her red cup is still
standing there with that grin on her face. They might be getting a
kick out of this, but at least I’m not giving up.

By the time Mason comes back, the tent is more
than halfway put together. I’m sitting on the ground unraveling
the last part of the rope when he comes up. My hands are super dirty,
so I stand up and rub them against my shorts.

He’s got firewood piled up high in a stack
against his chest. I rush over to take some and after a brief look of
surprise, he unloads a few pieces onto my arms.

“Thanks,” he says. Then he notices the
tent. “Holy shit, you did this?”

I stand straight and proud. “Yep, all by
myself. I had a couple false starts, but it started making more sense
the further I got into it.”

“It looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Looks like you
got a lot of good firewood.”

“Should be enough for a couple of nights,
anyway.”

He dumps all the wood onto the ground near the
fire pit, then starts stacking them up in a neat pile. I go back to
finishing up my work on the tent while he gets a fire going. The sun
is starting to set in the distance and the woods take on a pink and
orange glow. I hear the crackling of several fires around us and as I
look out across the park, I can see at least ten different fires and
campsites with families, friends and couples all enjoying one last
vacation before the end of summer.

“I’m in shock that you pulled this
off,” Mason says.

He walks around checking the stakes and pushing
them down just a little further into the ground. He takes one
completely out and backs it up about an inch. “You want to make
sure the tension is nice and tight,” he says. “That way
the top of the tent is completely raised up. See?”

The side of the tent comes out and the fabric is
more taut. I nod, then stand back and take in the whole scene. “I
can’t believe I really did that on my own,” I say. I run
a weary hand across my forehead and smile. “I’m camping.”

He laughs and steps closer to me. He runs his hand
over my forehead and little pieces of dirt fall away. I make a face
and reach up to rub it clean, but my hands are so dirty, I think I’m
only making it worse.

Mason puts his arm around me. It’s the first
time he’s touched me since our argument. “No matter how
long I’ve known you, Penny Wright, you keep finding ways to
surprise me.”

“Dog me,” I say with a giggle, holding
my stick out toward Mason.

We’re sitting together on a large log Mason
brought over from the empty campsite next to ours. He takes a hotdog
from the cooler and spears it with the end of the stick. I hold it
over the fire.

“I haven’t had a hotdog since I was
little,” I say. “My mom never lets us eat stuff like
this.”

Mason puts a hotdog on his own stick and puts it
practically right into the fire.

“You’re gonna burn it,” I say.

“No I won’t,” he says, bumping
me with his arm. “Mine will just be ready faster. Yours is the
one that’s not going to be ready until midnight with as far as
you’re holding it up.”

I scoot a little closer to him, wanting to feel
the warmth of his body against mine. I regret not packing a
sweatshirt.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier,”
I say after we’ve been quiet for a minute. “I am just so
used to seeing you with other girls that I just assumed you were
flirting with her. I hope you can at least try to see it from my
point of view.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m
sorry I got so angry. I made a promise to you, though. No other
women. I’m going to stick to that, Pen. You have to trust me.”

I suck in a breath. Trust. That’s a very
tricky word, especially when it comes to Mason. I know he cares about
me and would do anything in the world to keep me safe. But when it
comes to my heart, he’s broken it too many times to count.

“I want to trust you,” I say. “But
at the same time, we’re doing something crazy here. At the end
of this, no matter how I feel, you can just walk away.”

“If that’s all you’re going to
think about this whole trip, then it’s over before it really
began, isn’t it?”

I look over at him. Shadows dance across his
features. Is he saying he’s wanting to give this a real chance?
I have no idea how I’m going to survive this when it’s
over. I think about raising a baby on my own and it’s almost
too much to take.

But how can I expect him to change in just a few
short weeks?

Maybe I’ve gotten us into an impossible
situation here.

He pulls his hotdog from the fire and studies it.
“Dammit.”

I look over and see that one entire side is burnt
to a crisp and I laugh. “Ha! Told you you’d burn it.”

I pull mine from the fire and look at it. It’s
a perfect brown all the way around. He looks over and before I can
stop him, grabs the hotdog off my stick and stuffs it into his bun
and takes a bite.

“Hey,” I shout. I drop my stick and
tackle him.

He falls to the ground, the half-eaten hotdog
still in one hand. I straddle him and put my hands against his chest.

“Give me my perfect hotdog,” I say.

“Or what?” He lifts one eyebrow and
even in the dim light of the fire, I can see his eyes are filled with
mischief.

“Or I’ll keep the sleeping bag all to
myself tonight,” I say.

“Well, that’s not an option,” he
says.

Under my hands, I can feel his heart racing as his
eyes search my face.

He drops the hotdog into the dirt and grabs my
hips. He lifts up and crushes my mouth with his, pressing hard
against me, exploring me with a hunger he’s never shown.

I respond with my whole body. I can’t get
close enough to him. He pulls me into his arms and I wrap my legs
around him. My hands run over his arms, his face, through his hair.

He parts his lips, drawing me in with his tongue.
Passion explodes in my core, and I want more. I want all of him.

I tug on his hair and grind my body into his,
feeling him growing excited through his jeans as he presses against
me. He groans and moves his kisses to my chin and neck. His hands
play with the hem of my tank top, then slip underneath, caressing the
skin on my back and at my waist.

I lean my head back, giving him access, but it’s
not enough. I pull his head back and take his mouth again.

Behind us, the fire roars. Sweat trickles down the
back of my neck and down the center of my spine.

“I want you,” he says, pulling away.
He’s out of breath.

“Then take me.” I meet his eyes. “I’m
yours, Mason.”

He stands, lifting me in one smooth, strong
motion, then carries me into the tent. He doesn’t even bother
zipping it back up behind us.

He lays me down on the sleeping bag, then lifts
his shirt over his head and throws it to the side. The light of the
fire flickers against the tent, illuminating the shadows around his
muscles.

His body is perfection and even though I’ve
seen it a thousand times, I want nothing more than to touch him
again. Consume him. Explore every inch of him.

I lean up, reaching for the button on his jeans.

He moans and I look up, meeting his eyes in the
semi-darkness as I unbutton, then unzip his pants. His eyes are dark
and full of need. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
seen. I’m addicted to that look. I’d let him break me a
hundred times as long as I never had to live without that look.

I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help
it. I love him. Tonight, I feel it more than ever.

Impatient, he finishes for me, pulling his pants
off and tossing them in a pile with his shirt. I touch the band of
elastic on his boxers and help him pull them down over his erection.
I’m instantly wet at the sight of him, needing to touch him and
feel him against me. But when I reach for him, he gently pushes me
back, delaying my touch.

I’m breathless, gasping for air, but only
needing him to survive.

My body burns for him. Exists for him. And when
his hands find me, my body trembles at his touch.

He undresses me with furious urgency, and in
seconds I’m laying under him, naked and begging. I writhe
against the ground, my hands reaching up to slip around his waist. My
nails scratch against his back, pulling him down until his skin meets
mine.

I open for him. Ache for him. And finally, he
lowers himself fully onto me, slipping inside. The first seconds are
full of a beautiful ache as my body stretches to receive him, then
welcomes him as he pushes all the way.

We move together with passion and need. A push and
pull that somehow feels different this time. I’m not sure if
it’s because of the way we opened up to each other or if it’s
from the excitement of being alone on this adventure, but we’re
more connected. More in sync with each other, our bodies moving to
meet each other’s needs at every turn.

And when he comes, he’s looking deep into my
eyes. The passion there sets off a firework of emotions inside of me.
Our bodies tremble together and I cling to him with the hope of the
last few years, wondering if maybe, for the first time since I’ve
loved him, he’s feeling something like love for me, too.

The next morning, I wake up in his arms.

All the times we’ve been together, we’ve
never actually slept together like this, and I want to enjoy these
first few moments before he wakes. I snuggle into the crook of his
arm and look up at his face. He looks so peaceful and perfect.

His dark blond hair is a mess, and I smile as I
think of how many times I must have run my hands through his hair
last night.

At some point in the night, he must have zipped up
the tent and pulled the sleeping bag over us. We’re still naked
and one of my legs is looped with his. I realize the best feeling in
the world is the warmth of his naked skin against mine.

Even if this can’t last, I think, it was all
worth it for this moment right here. For this one night we shared
when I felt love from him. Even if he never admits it or says it out
loud, I felt the stirrings of it, and I will never forget it as long
as I live.

His eyes flutter open and he smiles when he sees
me watching him.

“Morning,” he says. He kisses my
forehead and I snuggle my face against his chest.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Last night was amazing,” he says. His
voice is husky this early in the morning and it sends an electricity
through me.

“Yes,” I say. “If I had known
how much fun camping out in tents could be, I would have suggested
this a long time ago.”

He sits up a little. “Hey, that’s
right. You survived your first night in a tent,” he says.
“Penelope Wright slept naked in the great outdoors. No one back
home would believe me.”

I laugh and sit up, the sleeping bag slipping down
to my waist as I lift my arms and stretch. My body is a little achy
from sleeping on the hard ground, but mostly I just feel happy.

“You’ve got to stop that,” he
says.

When I look over, I see that he’s staring at
my breasts.

“Stop what?” I ask, playing innocent.

He groans and pulls me into his arms. “You
know what.”

He kisses me, but it’s not the same hungry
kind of kiss from last night. This is a soft kiss that says he’s
exactly where he wants to be.

“If we don’t get up now, we’re
going to lose the whole day,” he says. “Because I’m
never going to want to leave this tent.”

“Who says we have to leave?” I ask.

“Don’t tempt me,” he says. He
gets up and pulls his discarded clothes back on his body.