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juice on it first,” Stella advised. “They grow all around this area.”
    While Dottie finished her demonstration, Stella went into the older women’s cabin. She emerged moments later flourishing a few bottles of white Zinfandel wine.
    â€œRustic doesn’t mean barbaric,” she announced. “These will be chilling nearby in the brook.”
    Jo, drifting in and out of her own thoughts, finished cleaning her pile of fish, finding the task unpleasant but hardly the ordeal Kayla made it out to be. As she wrapped the trout in leaves and carried them to Hazel, she couldn’t shake the memory of her earlier encounter with Nick down at the river.
    Maybe you should see a shrink to deal with this man-hating thing of yours.
    At the memory of his taunt, anger knotted her insides. Not only was he in love with himself, he obviously liked playing the expert in female psychology.
    â€œSomething biting at you, hon?” Hazel inquiredinnocently as Jo deposited her catch near the crackling fire.
    Jo glanced into Hazel’s Prussian-blue eyes. Despite the woman’s grandmotherly chignon and petite frame, however, Jo was not fooled. This old gal could follow you into a revolving door and come out ahead.
    â€œNothing biting but flies,” Jo fibbed.
    But in truth, anticipation of Nick Kramer’s arrival made her feel as if she was descending too fast on a long elevator ride. He was putting the moves on her, no question, and the physical hunger within her was sharpened, for he was undeniably attractive. At an animal level.
    The same hunger she had felt when Professor Ned Wilson first stroked her arm during a conference in his office.
    The same, she repeated mentally. This isn’t just déjà vu. You’re in danger of splitting on the same hard rock you hit before. Mess around with this smoke jumper and you will get burned.
    She could not prove he was just a moral copy of Ned. But her every instinct told her both of them were born to take their pleasure, then cut and run.
    She knew women who felt and acted that way, too, and she didn’t condemn such an attitude when both partners were up-front about it. But better loneliness, she decided, than to repeat the laceration of her heart, the long, agonizing nights of tears and despair, the numbing sense of betrayal and worthlessness.
    â€œPardon me?” Jo said, for Hazel had just said something to her.
    â€œI said if you looked any lower, you’d be walking on your bottom lip. You were having fun a few minutes ago. S’matter? Thinking about that sleazebag professor again?”
    â€œIt’s that obvious, huh?”
    â€œPlain as bedbugs on a clean sheet. Look, just forget that jerk. And be dang glad you are not his wife. She’s the real victim of his philandering. And so are his kids.”
    Jo nodded, swiping some loose strands of hair from her eyes. She managed a genuine smile. “You’re right.”
    â€œI usually am,” Hazel observed drolly. “How could I be so smart and so damn good-looking? The total package, babycakes.”
    The two women laughed. Just then, however, Dottie called, “Here comes the invasion!”
    Jo glanced across the camp clearing and felt her pulse quicken when she spotted Nick Kramer.
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    â€œAll those fish crowding the river today,” Dottie remarked to Nick. “Is that a bad sign as to the fire danger?”
    Nick, like Jo, had finished eating. The two of them sat in the grass cross-legged, not exactly together but uncomfortably close, in Jo’s opinion, sipping wine from paper cups.
    â€œRight now,” Nick replied to Dottie’s question,“all area fires are reported under control if not fully contained. But so far the conditions haven’t improved as we thought they would. I’m not predicting any trouble for Crying Horse Canyon. Things could get a little hairy around here, though, if we get airborne sparks.”
    Jo had noticed how all