The beginning of the high school senior superlatives list was a veritable homage to Sara: Prettiest, Best Eyes, Best Smile, Best Hair, Best Figure, Most Likely to be in a Movie, and—especially baffling to teenage Jane, who shared a room with spiteful Sara—Best Personality. Indeed, Sara’s true nature asserted itself privately. Her early insecurities at Jane’s unexpected intrusion in her life imposed an unfortunate edge to Sara’s demeanor that foreshadowed the demanding, difficult woman she’d become. Had, in fact, foreshadowed the international supermodel, Samara Amaya.
Jane, who barely bothered looking in the mirror by high school, wasn’t exactly jealous of Sara, although she had many wistful moments wishing she was prettier. Alas, she was assured by her uncle’s sympathetic glances that her own looks would always fall short beside Sara. It was the way of things. It was Jane’s world.
And she knew without a shred of doubt that her cousin would choose Lars to be her “local flavor” of the week, just as she had with Ben Abaz on the Egypt shoot. So, here was the million-dollar question: Could Jane just enjoy today and tomorrow with Lars, and be okay if he turned his back on her once Samara Amaya arrived? Could she risk the hurt to her heart? Could she bear watching Sara take what had been hers for a few short, sweet days?
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 Sara; 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 Sara 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…um…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, Professor?”
“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, Just-Lars?”
“Nope, that’s my personal opinion.”
Jane had had just about enough.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, an edge creeping into her once-playful 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 you’ll—”
“Jane.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
He unsnapped his seatbelt, unsnapped hers, slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her across the seat next to him. Placing his hands on either side of her face—and before she could completely get her head around what was about to happen—he brushed his lips softly against 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 over hers as she arched her back to get closer.
She lowered her hands to rest her knuckles on his thighs, and he skimmed his fingers down her arms to her hips where his thumbs curled into the waistband of her jeans as the kiss deepened, as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Satiny and stroking against hers, she felt dizzy from the contact, her breathing fast and fierce as her palms flattened, pushing down on the iron-hard 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.