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Her grip tightens on the spatula as she flips the vegetables. “Yeah. Me, either.” She sighs. “Isn’t it sad? That I’m more afraid of people than I am of bears or mountain lions or catching a nasty case of poison ivy?”
“Not people. Men,” I say, my jaw clenching. “I’m so sorry. I hate that the women I love don’t have the freedom or safety I do. Humanity should be ashamed of itself.” Her gaze settles on my face, searching for a long beat, until I ask in a softer voice, “What?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, I just… It’s nice to hear that. Nice to know there are still good men out there, after all.”
“Not always so good,” I murmur, a husky note in my voice.
Her lips part. When her gaze meets mine again it’s with the same awareness I’ve been feeling every time her thigh brushes mine. “Why do you say that?”
“Because if he’d given me the excuse, I would have hurt him. Badly,” I say, confessing to one of my sins, the one less likely to end in me betraying a promise to my girlfriend. “A part of me wanted to teach him what it feels like to be powerless and afraid. And that’s not nice. Not even a little bit.”
Her expression sobers, but her eyes remain locked on mine as she whispers, “Fuck nice.”
My lips twitch and my traitorous cock thickens behind my fly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d rather be a brave, ballsy person who stands up for the underdog, any day.” Her pretty mouth hooks up on one side as the wind gusts through camp, sending strands of silky hair sliding into her face. “I don’t like being the underdog, as much. But into every life a little underdog must fall, I guess.”
I reach up, tucking her hair behind her ear, enjoying the moment when my fingers slide over her soft skin way too much. “We’ll get you a whistle and some mace. I can teach you a few self-defense techniques, too, if you’d like.”
“I’d like,” she whispers, transforming my semi into a full-fledged problem that makes me grateful for the shadows slowly closing in on our campsite.
Clearing my throat, I turn to take in the view across the valley. “Then we’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks,” she says. “And if you were serious about wanting a trail buddy, you’re welcome to join me. It could be fun. Even as a big, strong guy, it can be nice to have someone around to watch your back.”
“Yeah, it can,” I agree, turning back to her. Just meeting her gaze is enough to make the urge to kiss her almost irresistible. “And nice to have someone around who can cook, I guess.”
She arches a wry brow. “You guess?”
“Well, I haven’t eaten any of your cooking yet,” I tease as her chest puffs up at the challenge.
Fuck, her chest… I will myself not to glance down, but my stupid eyes have a mind of their own.
So, I glance.
And because she isn’t blind, Tessa notices.
She goes still and I go still, until there’s nothing but the soft hiss of the vegetables in the pan and the rustle of the leaves in the trees.
The tense moment stretches on, electric and loaded. I’m about to apologize for being a pig who can’t keep his roaming gaze in line when she whispers, “Well, then, you’ll just have to give me the chance to prove my culinary skills to you. Dinner? My place? Tomorrow night? This meal doesn’t count because I didn’t prep or plan it myself, and you burned the rice a little before I intervened.”
I smile. “Sorry about that. And yes, dinner sounds amazing,” I say, refusing to think about all the reasons I should say no.
I don’t want to say no. I want to say “yes,” more than I’ve wanted to in a long, long time. Besides, a lot of things can change by tomorrow night.
It isn’t the classiest thing in the world to break up with my girlfriend in the morning and go out on a date with another woman the same day. But my problems with Darcy are the reason I’m out in the woods, camping alone on a Friday night. I needed some space to breathe and think. And even if I’d asked her, Darcy wouldn’t have come with me. She’s afraid of the woods and finds camping an exercise in torture.
Which makes me wonder, “Do you think you’ll be more afraid now? Of the woods?”
Tessa seems to mull that over as she turns off the heat on both burners. Finally, she says, “Maybe, a little. But that won’t stop me. Cooking is my passion, but hiking and camping…” She gazes out over the twilight-kissed hills with an appreciation I feel in every bone in my body. “This is where I feel most alive. It feels like where I’m supposed to be, you know? And I’m not going to let a twat like Carl take that away from me.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” I murmur.
She shifts her focus my way. “You, too. So, do you want my honest evaluation of your sauce before I decide whether or not to pour it over our stir-fry?”
I smile. “Could I stop you?”
She returns my grin. “I mean, yeah. You probably could. If you asked very bravely.”
