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“If I see even a hint of fish fang or leech sucker, I’m out.”
“That’s fair.” He rakes his fingers through his hair again, making it curlier than ever.
It’s like this man was created specifically to throw me off guard. Not that it’s just me. I’m sure women everywhere would have a similar reaction. So of all the camping trips in all the great outdoors, how did he wind up in mine?
I avert my gaze from the dusting of black chest hair, but my attention snags on something else. “What’s your tattoo?”
He stills and lets me shift closer to get a better look. A black and gray mountain range cuts across the top of his right arm, but there’s something more just beneath the water. I grab his elbow and lift it out to see.
“‘Not all those who wander are lost.’ Aww. You’re a nerd.” A mountain man with a Tolkien tattoo? He’s so adorable.
“You know the quote.” His eyebrows bob, telegraphingtakes one to know one.
“Yeah, but you got it permanently inked on your body.”
He looks sheepish but not entirely repentant. “I got it when I was twenty-four. I thought it was unique.”
I spin in the water so he can see my right shoulder blade. “Tell that to my dahlia tattoo. It’s not a butterfly on my lower back, but they’re practically interchangeable.”
It’s a botanical design with a wash of maroon through the petals. I still love it, even though I saw something similar on every other woman I met in Seattle.
“It’s pretty,” he says as I paddle around to face him again. “Delicate. It suits you.”
How does he have me blushing in borderline frigid water?
“Do you have any more tattoos?” I ask.
He smiles, looking ridiculously at home standing in a lake. “You mean, do I have any more tattoos for you to make fun of?”
“I’m not making fun. I think it’sprecious.”
His laughter curls around me like the coziest blanket. “You sound like you want to get dunked, princess.”
Half-laughing, half-shrieking, I splash myself away from him, but he immediately closes the distance again. He’s super fast in the water, and he’s got his hands wrapped around my upper arms in about two seconds.
“It’ll be fun.” His voice is all mischief and naughtiness.
“Not so close!”
He pauses, eyes searching mine, his hands loosening their grip as I bob in the water. I applaud his immediate response to my warning, but I might have reacted too strongly.
“I smell like a wet dog,” I explain.
His gaze sparks. Warms. Heats up to inferno levels. Slowly, he leans closer, angling his face within an inch of mine until his nose brushes against my temple. He inhales. Now, I’m the one burning.
Nobody has ever smelled me before. If you’d asked, I would have said it’s a weird thing to do. And yet, I’m responding to himas if he’d traced my skin with his mouth instead of the tip of his nose.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You smell good.”
Then, he lets me go and floats backward without a care, as if he didn’t justsniffme. As if I didn’t enjoy it. As if he hasn’t seen me looking my worst, and still declared me beautiful. Amazing. Enough.
As if he isn’t making me redefine exactly what would make this trip a success.
ELEVEN
GRANT
I knowthis isn’t my fault, but staring at the carnage that’s descended at camp, I can’t help but feel like I’ve jinxed Lila.
