Though, she knew right away what Corsica had been through. Her mother had died of cancer and here she was going through it all again. Except it was my mother, my family, and we were still perfect strangers.
I skipped those thoughts; they didn't make sense. The only thing I knew was that when Corsica kissed me, the whole world faded away. It still felt like we were on a separate cloud, with the morning fog gathering in the groves below us.
"What time is it?" Corsica murmured against my neck.
"Too early for a run, if that's what you're thinking." I squeezed her closer until her eyes opened. "You did it, by the way. You survived a whole night out in the open air."
Corsica was still too sleepy to be annoyed. She stretched against me and smiled. "I seem to recall doing much more than surviving."
My throat closed up and my body roared to life. Still, I was afraid to move, as if one shift would break the spell. Instead, I counted the leaves above us and pretended her smile hadn't set me on fire.
"Well, if it's too early for a run and you're too lazy to get up, I might as well make us some coffee." Corsica pushed away from me.
I watched the bare expanse of her back disappear under her sundress. "There are coffee grounds in my pack and a coffee press. I'll have to make a fire first."
Her hair whipped back. "No. I'm going to prove to you once and for all that I can handle myself at a campsite. I'll make the fire. You can heat the water for the coffee."
I was amazed with her efficiency. The fire was small and she managed to focus the heat so the water boiled easily. While she admired her own handwork, Corsica combed her fingers through her hair and ended up looking as fresh as if she'd just stepped out of the five-star spa. The fact that she could erase our wild night together so easily irked me, and I ground my teeth over the coffee.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my mother," Corsica said. "I just didn't think it was a good time, you know?"
I stabbed the coals of the fire with a stick. "I know. Thanks. I just feel bad. All that talk about doctors and treatments must have been rough on you."
"Not as rough as sleeping on the ground," Corsica said.
The knot of irritation slipped free and I smiled. "I knew it! You'd prefer Egyptian cotton sheets and down pillows every time, wouldn't you."
Her smile warmed with a secret fire. "And what if I prefer what I had last night?"
My body jolted. "Like what?"
Corsica laughed. "The stars bright above us. They were beautiful. Why? What'd you think I was going to say?"
"I don't know. We don't know each other that well."
"We're getting there," she replied. "And speaking of getting places: where are we?"
I sipped my coffee. "About two miles above the 'glamping' sites we passed yesterday."
Corsica's eyes lit up. "I've been thinking about those sites. I love that idea. Why do we have to sacrifice comfort and luxury just to be out in nature? There are plenty of elegant ways to bring a little opulence to the outdoors. I bet people would pay a bundle if it was done right."
"Bet you could turn a tidy profit and get to know all sorts of wealthy types," I muttered.
Corsica continued to brainstorm as we packed up camp and hiked back down to my mother's encampment. The magic of the solstice had definitely passed when the first person to greet us was my father. Corsica borrowed a pen from him and started writing down her ideas.
Xavier chuckled. "You two look happy."
I scowled. "She's determined to bring 'opulence to the outdoors.'"
"Maybe happy is not the right word. You two look like your mother and I did when we were first falling in love."
"Was that before or after you two realized you could never change each other?" I asked.
"What's to change?" Xavier asked. "You two are perfect together. Even Tabitha the psychic said so."
Tabitha was wrong, and the next few days proved it. Corsica talked about nothing but high end camping equipment, the shiny, elegant kind that would never help anyone survive on a real camping trip. Her ideas were sprinkled with tiny insights into the camping she did as a child, but those short glimmers were not enough to give me hope. She was stuck on the comforts of life and would never see it any other way.
She would never see it my way.
A few days later, I figured I must have dreamt it all–maybe I drank too much dandelion wine–but the Corsica I held in the oak grove was gone. In her place was a chattering shopper who left me on the street while she cooed over some brand name dress in a shop window.
"What? You want me to buy it for you?" I asked.
Corsica turned on me with an angry flash of her eyes. "Did I ask you to buy it? What's wrong with liking the way something looks? I can't admire nice things?"
"By all means, get a closer look."
"I'm going to try it on," Corsica snapped. She marched into the shop.
I felt like an ass when I realized the store was consignment. Whatever high fashion Corsica had found was within her tight and practical budget. I went inside to apologize and then overheard her talking to the clerk.
"You've got a good eye," the clerk said as Corsica plucked an Hermes scarf from a jumbled bin. "An expensive eye."
Her blonde hair tossed. "I got it from my mother. She was forever sending away for catalogs of clothes she couldn't possibly afford. She called it fun, but it was sad to see how much she wanted those pretty, expensive things."
"Your mother never heard of consignment?"
Corsica laughed. "There was no such thing in the town where I grew up, and we didn't travel much. My mother got sick and the only times we went to the city were for her treatments."
The clerk patted her hand. "Your mother must have had a beautiful sense of style because she certainly passed it on to you. Do you want the dress?"
"No, thanks. I better get back to my-oh!" Corsica spotted me and her light smile disappeared. "I'm done. We can go. Sorry to make you wait."
"Is that Versace?" I asked.
The clerk nodded and held up the sapphire blue dress. It was tight sheath with a curved neckline and a delicate embroidered pattern of blue silk thread. I knew instantly how beautiful her eyes would be over that perfect dress and the air contracted in my lungs.
"She'll take it," I said. "If you have shoes to match."
The clerk scurried to the back room with a squeal of excitement.
Corsica stood still and didn't meet my eyes. "I don't need the dress. Thanks, though."
"You'll need something for the engagement party my friends are planning. Was that true about your mother?"
"That was a long time ago." She shrugged.
I bought the dress and the silver heels the clerk unearthed. Corsica was quiet and let me carry the bag as we left the shop.
"What next?" I asked.
She stopped on the street and gazed out over the Pacific. "What about paddle boarding? I hear it's really fun."
"You're messing with me," I said with a surprised laugh.
"If you can buy Versace just to make a point, then I can kick your ass in paddle boarding."