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Catching her call back to our “nice vs. brave” conversation, I laugh. “Nah. I save my bravery for bigger battles. I defer to your expertise. If you say the sauce isn’t up to snuff, I trust you.”
I watch, trying my best to keep a neutral expression as she opens the small container, squeezes a few drops onto her finger, and brings it to her lips. But when her tongue sweeps across the pad of her fingertip, my breath catches and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Then, she looks up and whispers, “That may be the most disgusting thing I’ve tasted in recent memory, Wesley McGuire,” and the urge to kiss her grows almost unbearable.
“Ever been told you’re a little bit of a brat, Tessa Martin?”
A big, bright smile blooms across her face. “You know my last name?”
“Of course,” I say. “I pay attention to interesting people.”
She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, making me ache to do the same. “Me, too. Shall we debate the benefits of hiking the northern stretch of the Appalachian Trail versus the southern while we eat? I mean, if we’re considering joining forces, we should see if we have similar ideas about what constitutes a good hike, right?”
“We should,” I agree, but I already know I want to join forces with this woman.
I’m not usually the kind to fall headfirst into a crush like this, but there’s something about Tessa. Something that keeps me hanging on her every word as we devour our simple dinner and the stars flicker to life in the clear sky, promising a beautiful night ahead.
It’s the kind of night that a person doesn’t forget.
The kind that has the potential to change things, forever…
Chapter 4
TESSA
I can’t make out with my best friend’s brother.
I really can’t!
I also can’t drag him into that tent and ride him like a prancing pony all night long.
That would be bad. Very, very bad!
But it would feel so good. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. And the way Wesley’s been looking at me since we settled around the fire makes me pretty sure he’d be up for a little hanky-panky in our shared sleeping bag.
Maybe it’s the fact that we survived something terrifying that’s drawing us together like the opposite ends of a horny magnet. Or maybe it’s our shared love of nature, hiking, and planning grand adventures that lit this fire smoldering between us.
Or maybe it’s just that spark of magic a person’s lucky enough to stumble upon every now and then, that instant connection with another soul that makes your mind and heart (and libido) sit up and take notice.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much during dinner. Or the last time my panties were damp without a man having so much as kissed me.
But Wesley’s eye contact is…next level.
When he looks at me, I feel it everywhere, from my tingling lips to my aching thighs. And when I actually caught him staring at my chest?
Well, forget about it. My cool was a thing of the past.
My nipples have been hard ever since, silently begging Wes to touch them, even if it’s just for one stolen night. I have no idea what his romantic status is, but he’s never brought a girlfriend to any of the McGuire parties. I’ve always assumed he’s the kind of guy who’s married to his work and doesn’t have time for a relationship. That’s true of a lot of people in their early thirties. It takes so much effort to establish yourself when you’re first starting out, especially when you’re a lawyer who didn’t even finish school until you were in your late twenties.
And as for my romantic status? It’s obviously at rock bottom.
If nothing else, Carl proved that it can always get worse than falling for flaky commitment-phobes or men who don’t want to get serious if I can’t give them a baby. Serious bodily harm (or worse) is also on the menu for the intrepid lady dater.
But not tonight…
Tonight, I’m having a damned good time, even if all Wes and I do is talk.
“Okay, but what if we run into a moose in Vermont or Maine?” I ask once we’ve established that we both think the northern stretch of the Long Trail is the superior choice for views and staying cool on a summer night. “I’ve heard they’re way more aggressive than black bears. I mean, assuming you’ve properly stored your food.”
