An Alaskan Proposal. Beth Carpenter
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ones Clara was wearing. Besides, he wasn’t with Orson, so his opinion didn’t matter.
“I’d better get these logs to the fire.” Sabrina gathered up the wood she’d dropped and returned to the fire ring without looking back.
Whatever Will had done in her absence must have worked, because flames were licking at the wood. He stepped back. “I’ll light the grill and handle all the meat and veggie burgers and stuff. Okay?”
“Sure. What should I do?”
“Uh, well, I guess you just need to watch the fire and heat up the beans.”
“Sounds good.” Surely she could manage that. “Thanks, Will.”
He set up the grill close enough that he could talk with Amy while he cooked. Bushes and boulders partially blocked the view between Sabrina and the other two. That worked out well for her, because it allowed her to paw through the chest Will had brought and try to figure out what everything was without him watching.
The fire seemed to be burning nicely, so she threw a couple more logs on. The flames died down. Oops. Using a stick, Sabrina raked one of the logs toward her and the fire jumped up between the two logs. Okay, that looked good. Digging through the crate, she found a metal box labeled camp stove. Better and better. But when she opened the box, the contents held no resemblance to any stove she’d ever seen. She put it aside for the moment.
The crate held a dozen big cans of baked beans. Probably half of them were for the group tomorrow. Sabrina dug a little more and found some sort of metal circles surrounded by rings of silicone—trivets maybe—and something that looked like a manual can opener, except it didn’t have any handles. How was she supposed to heat beans without a pan? Eventually, she found some tongs but still no cooking containers.
She peeked around the rock. Will was whistling as he unpacked a bunch of stuff from an ice chest. She could ask him how the stove worked, but then he’d know she was a fraud. And if one person in the store knew, soon the whole store would, including Walter.
She picked up one of the cans. It was a metal cylinder, right? Just like a small pan. Why not just put the cans into the fire and let them heat? Once they were hot, she could take them out of the fire with the tongs. Yeah, that would work. And she wouldn’t have to deal with the camp stove. Problem solved.
She added more wood to the fire, careful to leave spaces between the logs for the flames. Then she set the cans of beans onto the coals near the heart of the flames. The labels caught and burned away, but the cans seemed stable. Now all she had to do was wait.
It wasn’t long before the main group returned, laughing and joking. Clara trotted over to Sabrina. “Sorry you missed out on the fun. Those Learn & Live guys are great. I’ll tend the fire and you can go do the equipment tryouts.”
“The what?”
“You know, where we try out all that shiny new equipment we’re going to be selling this season. Walter said to send you over. You’ll be working in one of the departments, so you need hands-on experience more than I do.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, the beans—”
“Sabrina,” Walter called, waving his arms. “Over here.”
“Don’t keep the boss waiting,” Clara said. “I’ll take care of the beans. Go.”
Sabrina went. Her coworkers crowded around the van, where Walter was handing out packages to everyone. The breeze kicked up again, and without the fire to warm her, Sabrina felt goose bumps rising along her arms while she waited her turn. Walter passed an orange backpack to a guy with a gray ponytail and picked up a long, thin nylon sack that appeared to contain something heavy. “Sabrina. This one’s for you.” She stepped closer and Walter leaned in so only she could hear. “Thanks for volunteering to help with the food. That shows leadership. But now it’s your turn for some fun. Here, this new tent design is supposed to make for a faster, more intuitive setup without compromising structural integrity. Give it a try and let me know what you think.”
“All right.” Sabrina accepted the nylon bundle and looked around. Where did this testing take place?
“There’s a flat spot over there,” Walter suggested, waving his hand toward a spot a little past the fire.
“Perfect. Thanks.” Sabrina smiled at him and carried the tent over. She waved at Clara as she walked by. Okay. A tent. Let’s see what she had to work with. Sabrina opened the drawstring at the top of the bag and dumped everything out. Hmm. A bunch of nylon, two short bundles of colored sticks, small metal sticks with hooks on the ends and...oh, instructions. Good. She grabbed the paper and looked at the picture. Step one: spread tent on the ground.
Clear enough. She unrolled the nylon and spread it in a neat rectangle. Presumably the heavier side was the bottom, and the net side went up. So far, so good.
Step two: assemble shock-corded tent poles. Was that stick in the picture the big one or one of the little ones? Another gust sent a shiver up her arms. She stamped her feet. It was hard to concentrate when she was so cold.
“Problems?”
Sabrina jumped and turned. Those blue eyes, watching her again. This was starting to get weird. “No, I’m just reading the instructions.”
He looked over the pieces she’d set on the ground. “Looks like it sets up just like the old design except they color-coded the poles, shortened the sleeves and used minicarabiners to make setup faster.”
Minicarabiners. Uh-huh. “Yeah, well, I’m approaching it like a customer who hasn’t ever set up one of these tents,” Sabrina said. “I want to make sure the instructions are clear, even to a novice.”
“I see.” His lips twitched into a small smile.
Sabrina couldn’t be sure whether it was a friendly smile or if he was laughing at her, but she suspected the latter. She made a point of turning her back to him while she read, shivering as she did. Maybe he would go away. “Shock cord? What the heck is a shock cord?” she muttered to herself. “Cielos, these pictures are confusing.”
“What did you say?” He was still there. “Cielos? What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Just something her grandmother used to say when she got flustered. Heavens. But he didn’t need Sabrina’s life story.
“Where’s your jacket?”
She gave up and turned to look at him. “I’m wearing it.”
“That’s all you brought?” He shook his head. “Where are you from, anyway?”
“Arizona. And I’m fine.”
“Scottsdale?”
“As a matter of fact, I used to work in Scottsdale.”
“I figured.” He unzipped his fleece vest and removed it. “Here, wear this.”
“What? No. I’m okay.”
“I don’t think you are. Shivering, mumbling, confusion. All symptoms of hypothermia.”
I’m not mumbling because I’m hypothermic. I’m mumbling because I’m annoyed. She thought the words but managed not to say them. Instead she repeated, “I’m okay.”
“Are you wet?”
“No. I was wearing a rain poncho.”
“Then you’re probably not hypothermic, but you’re obviously cold. Take the vest.”
It was tempting, but she hated to be in anyone’s debt. Especially someone who seemed to disapprove of her. “Then you’ll be cold.”
“I have a fleece jacket in the truck.”
Of course he did. The survival expert would always be prepared. Another cold gust convinced her. “Fine.” She pulled the vest over her sweater and zipped it