Page 58 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

Sparkle: The owner is a control freak.

Lucien: I liked you better when you were kissing me.

Heat races into my cheeks so quickly that I slap my phone facedown on the table.

Lark’s grin is immediate. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.” I reach for my coffee and ignore every single one of them. My phone buzzes again beneath my hand. I tell myself I can wait to check it. I last four seconds.

Lucien: Adventure tonight?

Sparkle: What do I wear?

The typing bubble appears, disappears, then appears again.

Lucien: Something you don’t mind getting dirty.

I narrow my eyes at my phone.

Sparkle: That sounds threatening.

Lucien: Have you ever been camping?

Camping? I’ve been near camping. I’ve seen tents. I’ve walked through the woods. That probably counts for something.

Sparkle: No. Have you?

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. I slowly lower my coffee.

Lucien: Define camping.

Oh no.

21

LUCIEN

I have hunted demons across realms. I have tracked creatures through realms. I once followed a soul thief through an active volcano because the bastard thought lava would hide his scent. None of that prepared me for a tent.

I stand in the middle of the clearing with my hands on my hips, glaring at the pile of green fabric on the ground. The picture on the box promised me a spacious two-person tent with a waterproof exterior, built-in storage, and an easy ten-minute setup.

The box is a fucking liar.

“Do you need help?” Sparkle asks from behind me.

“No.” I pick up another metal pole and try to figure out which of the seven thousand little fabric loops it’s supposed to go through.

“You’ve been fighting with it for twenty minutes.”

“I’m not fighting with it.” A metal pole snaps free from whatever infernal configuration I’ve created and smacks me directly in the thigh. I suck in a breath and glare at it before slowly turning toward Sparkle. He already has a hand over his mouth, his green eyes sparkling with poorly contained laughter. “Not. One. Word.”

That does it. He doubles over, laughing as his fluffy white tail swishes wildly behind him. At least he looks adorable while enjoying my suffering. He’s wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a soft green sweater beneath a puffy vest. I told him to dress comfortably and wear something he didn’t mind getting dirty, and apparently Sparkle’s version of camping attire still includes glitter on his cheeks.

I approve.

“You said you knew how to camp.” Sparkle wipes beneath his eyes as he straightens.

“I said I knew what camping was.”