Robin checks the roster, confirming the consent forms, logging medical information, making certain each boy has everything he needs before they embark on the hike. It will take over an hour to reach the campsite with fifteen scouts in tow, even with the parental volunteers to assist in herding the boys along.
He's currently only missing one before they are able to depart—Henry Mills.
The boy is a new pack member who has been attending recent meetings with a friend, a friendly and eager child who says very little but smiles at everything. R. Mills will be accompanying Henry the registration form states, and Robin realizes he has never met Henry's father. At eight, he is one of the younger scouts to embark on this weekend trek into the wilderness, so the fact that his father has elected to come along is probably a good thing. It can be rough sometimes with first-timers if they are sent out on their own, and he has sat up by many a camp-fire into the wee hours whispering legends of the Arapaho, the Cherokee, and the Iroquois into small ears until anxiety is replaced by wonder and heavy lids outweigh homesickness.
It's too bad the man doesn't seem to be able to tell time. Mr. Mills is already nearly twenty minutes late.
The screeching of tires interrupts his musings, and he turns his head quickly to see a champagne colored BMW pull into the church parking lot from which they will depart. Great, he thinks to himself. The last thing he needs this weekend is to have to hold the hand of a pretty rich boy out to show his son just how manly he is by sleeping under the stars and fighting off ticks.
Wait—not a pretty rich boy after all, he realizes with a start. Rather a stunning rich woman. He feels every physical sense go on alert at the exact fit of her jeans, the perfect sway of her hips, the red lips that smile down at Henry as the child tugs his backpack out of the back seat and zips up his jacket.
Christ, he can't be looking at another man's wife like this, it's bad form, especially if the man is going to be sitting across from him while roasting hot dogs and toasting s'mores. But the longer he stares, the more he wonders just where Mr. Mills may be, and he draws in a deep breath, pulling his body back in check as he makes his way towards Henry and the woman he is sure is the boy's mother.
"I'm Robin Locksley," he introduces himself, catching a whiff of expensive perfume as he extends his hand. "Scoutmaster of Pack 22. Are you Henry's mother?"
He's certain she just checked him out, albeit so subtly that fiery tingles erupt down his pants.
"Yes," she smiles back, taking his offered hand and shaking it firmly. "Regina Mills. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Locksley."
"Robin," he corrects with a grin, wondering just how black her eyes actually are. Regina, he thinks, saying the name over to himself silently, realizing it somehow fits her like a leather glove.
Stop it, he commands himself. Thinking of Regina and leather at the same time will do nothing but make his jeans excessively tight.
"Is your husband driving separately?" he asks, clearing his voice to bring his voice back down an octave. "Or has something come up that will prevent him from joining us this weekend?"
Those dark eyes narrow slightly, the upward curve of her lips tightening.
"I'm not married," she returns, taking one step closer. "And no, nothing will prevent me from joining Henry on his first campout."
He nearly chokes on his own saliva, coughing in an attempt to retrieve air into his lungs.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Mills," he returns carefully, trying his best not to cough yet again. "This is a father-son camping expedition. Perhaps you didn't realize that when you filled out Henry's registration form."
"I read it in its entirety," she informs him smoothly. "I'm an attorney. It's what I do."
He shifts back on his haunches, recognizing a power play for what it is.
"Then you understand that this particular weekend was created to promote male bonding," he explains, his arms outstretched in a gesture of peace. "Our family campout is scheduled for next month, and we would love to have you join us then."
"Henry doesn't have a father, Mr. Locksley," she tosses back, the edge in her voice noticeable. "But that shouldn't deprive him of the company of his parent on his first camping trip, nor from experiencing the joys of male bonding simply because he is being raised by a single mother. Surely you wouldn't disappoint one of your scouts in such a traumatic fashion."
He stares at her unblinking as her brow draws up in a challenge.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he hums, putting on his best smirk as her eyes spark dangerously.
"Good," she replies. "Now kindly inform me where the vehicle is where I can load my luggage."
He blinks rapidly, wondering if she is joking, discovering quickly that she is not by the sharp angle of her expression.
"It's a hike, Ms. Mills," he informs her, deliberately avoiding the use of her title. "Into the mountains. No road. No cars. No electricity. No luggage."
Her face falls into a momentary look of panic as Henry rushes off to join the other boys.
"So how am I supposed to transport my supplies?" she questions, her attempt at appearing unfazed nearly convincing, but not quite.
"The same way I'm transporting mine," he grins, hoisting his pack off the ground. "Carry it."
Her laughter is throaty and deep, and he joins her in her merriment until it naturally fades away.
"I'm not in the mood to be toyed with Mr. Locksley," she fires back, and he knows she is loading ammunition for the next round.
"And I have no desire to toy with you, Ms. Mills," he states flatly. "I hope you brought along a backpack."
"What I packed is none of your concern," she returns icily.
"You're right," he nods. "Except as the Scout master in charge of this camping trip, I must make certain that all of my charges are prepared for what lies ahead. Are you ready to take on this challenge, Ms. Mills? It's not too late to change your mind, you know."
He can't help but stare at her ass as she moves to the back of her car, hoisting out her sleek black luggage with wheels, making her way back to him in boots she will ruin half an hour into their journey.
"I think you'll find I'm up for anything, Mr. Locksley," she bites back, making him roll his eyes and pray it doesn't rain as he prepares himself to set off for the forest with one Regina Mills in tow. It was shaping up to be a long weekend, indeed.