Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

folded my hands under my head, relishing the few minutes of freedom and laziness before we had to get back to work.
    I must have dozed off, because a sharp kick to my boot jolted me back to my senses. I became aware of some snickering above me and tilted my cap back to see Logan and his lackeys laughing down at me.
    "Catching up on some beauty sleep, Princess?" Logan smirked. "Although I don't think any of us want to know what, or who, kept you up last night."
    The lackeys all laughed at this pathetic attempt at humor.
    "Don't worry," I said, sitting up and shrugging back into my dusty t-shirt, "your delicate ears probably wouldn't be able to handle it anyway."
    Logan put his hands on his hips and looked me up and down critically. "Delicate? Now who's calling who delicate?"
    Ok, so I may not be as ripped as him, but I'm no slouch. I run and swim, but he didn't know that. Not that he'd care anyway. He only cared what he looked like and I hated to admit that the guy did look damn good, all blond and chiseled and golden.
    Shame that the insides didn't match up to the fancy packaging.
    Logan was still eyeing me with hostility, probably waiting for some sarcastic retort. I really couldn't be bothered and just pushed past him to return to my site.
    Logan flinched as my hand touched his bare arm and he jerked away quickly.
    "Don't worry, it's not catching," I said dryly, hoping he'd just get the fuck out of my space and go and annoy some other poor bastard.
    ****
    The site we were at was not far out of Moab, in the center of Utah. We spent each week at a campsite and returned to college on the weekends. A week is about as long as I can stand without an adequate shower. The ones at the campsite spewed out a passable dribble, but weren't exactly private and it was always a race to get everything clean in the two minutes a quarter bought you.
    There was a lake a few minutes' walk from camp, so I'd taken to going swimming in there every evening. The cool, clear water was gorgeous after being in the hot sun all day. I was surprised that none of the other students had taken the plunge, so to speak, but part of me also relished the solitude after the noise and cramped confines of the dig.
    Since there was no one else around I usually swam naked—it wasn't like I'd brought my swim trunks with me anyway. I would float around lazily, enjoying the contrast between the cool water and the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I lingered for a while, then reluctantly dragged myself out of the lake and onto the rocks where my clothes were. I toweled off quickly and pulled on some clean shorts before turning back towards camp.
    I picked my way carefully across the smooth rocks; my bare feet hardly making a sound, so the groan I heard caught me by surprise. I stopped moving and listened, thinking maybe someone was hurt? Stuck? Needed help? I held my breath, hearing the deep moan again, followed by some heavy breathing and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. I stifled a laugh as I realized exactly what I was hearing. Someone jerking off. Yeah, all that being at one with nature could certainly bring out the animal instincts. I didn't want to spoil the moment for whoever the amorous individual was, so I padded silently down the rest of the rocky path before reaching the dirt track and jogging back to camp.
    ****
    That night the heavens opened and we had one hell of a downpour. There's nothing quite like being in a tent while the rain beats down a few inches from your head; the feeling of being all safe and dry, cocooned in your own little world, safe from the elements.
    The rain that night meant two things; firstly, that the humidity was far more tolerable at the work site the following day. Secondly, the site had become a complete and utter mud bath.
    ****
    Humid or not, it was still damn hot and most of the guys, myself included, had stripped off their shirts by late morning. It was one of the many times that I've been grateful to be male. Girls aren't afforded that luxury—not unless they want to be verbally assaulted or get arrested. I was also very grateful to be one-quarter Cherokee, because it meant that my olive skin rarely burned and I didn't have to be quite so liberal with the sunscreen.
    Logan, never one to shy away from flaunting his body it seemed, paraded around the site in low-slung cargo shorts. He even asked two of the girls to help oil up his back. Two girls. I mean, seriously? I rolled my eyes as the girls smoothed their