words as slippery as her thoughts.
The brothers laughed again, and Deacon smiled. “Oh, I still am. I’m just a well-trained jackass now.”
Deacon conferred with John, deciding that she would be fine if they kept her warm and comfortable. And she was – strangely comfortable. Sure, there was a good chance they’d all be eaten by morning, but the piles of sleeping bags beneath her were so soft and satiny against her skin, and Bennett had started rubbing her feet, as well.
Damn, should go into shock more often, she thought.
The return to the real world took a while, but soon, Catherine was sitting upright, watching the sparks dance from the dying fire. John was off at his truck, and Deacon was still at her side, doing what he could to get her chatting. She’d told a few stories – how she met Jean – at the ticketing booth of the Cougar Mountain Haunted Hay Ride; how she got the scar on her collar bone – angry cat, clawing her way to safety when an errant Maltese came after her beloved Mr. Fribble. They’d even asked what brought her up to Blackrock again. Luckily, Catherine was with it enough to stop that story before it started.
“You ready for bed, then?”
Catherine glanced around, her company having thinned by three.
It was Deacon speaking, standing over her as he offered her a hand to help her stand up.
“Looks like you’ll be sleeping on your own tonight,” he said, giving her one more gentle inspection before loosing his hands from her shoulders.
“What, in a tent? There’s a fucking bear in the woods. I can’t sleep in a tent. Alone? Did Jean already go to bed?”
Catherine sounded as frantic as she felt. She could just imagine the smell of the bear drifting through the canvas walls of her tent seconds before teeth crunched down on her skull. “Oh god, did she go to bed with Bennett?”
“Nope.” Catherine turned to find Bennett heading over from his own tent. He looked a little dejected. “She’s already in bed alright, but not with me.”
Catherine glanced over at the small group of tents. “Well, then where is she?”
“She’s in Paul’s tent.”
Catherine’s eyes went wide. “No! Oh my god, I’m sorry Benny. Where’s Jason going to sleep then?”
Bennett gave a half laugh. “Oh, he’s in there, too.”
Deacon coughed softly and turned away from them, politely avoiding the conversation.
Catherine stared at her cousin, realizing how Jean was spending her evening. “Holy shit. What the hell? I never get any action, now she’s getting double -”
“Believe me, what she’s getting isn’t action,” John said, appearing at her shoulder. “If you’re ready for bed, I’ve set up the truck for you.”
Catherine stopped, glancing back at John. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer, but instead took her hand and led her toward his Dodge pickup truck. The back of the truck had a hard top on it, the tailgate and window open in the back. Catherine stepped forward as Deacon pulled a rolled up sleeping bag from the back. She glanced in.
The interior of the pickup was filled with blankets, pillows, sleeping pads, and a half-filled air mattress. She turned to John shaking her head. “I couldn’t. That wouldn’t be right!”
John shook his head. “Please, I insist. Any bear that comes along, you’ll be tucked away nice and safe.”
She swallowed. Yeah, with a perfect view of the slaughter of all her friends right outside the window, she thought.
“Isn’t that where you were going to sleep?”
John glanced in and shrugged. “Naw, I was planning to crash in a tent with Deac. You’re not putting me out at all.”
She glanced in again, counting at least three sleeping bags and two pillows. If it wasn’t John that was losing out on his sleeping gear, somebody was.
She swallowed and prepared to speak, but then remembered the image of teeth and claws tearing through tent canvas to the sound of screams. She stilled her protests before they began. “Are you