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As I’m shrugging out of my leather jacket, he snatches it and runs into the kitchen.

“Asshole.”

His grin spreads when he looks inside. “Holy shit.”

“Wilder.”

“You're actually going to read a book?”

He pulls it out and stares at the cover. Then at me.

I don’t say a word.

A laugh bursts from him. “This might be the best day of my life.”

“Your standards are low.”

“My brother bought a romance novel.”

“I bought a book.”

“A romance novel.”

“Still a book.”

“Does it have fucking in it?”

I stare at him.

He smirks. “I'm just asking.”

“Find something to do.”

“I am.” He gestures between the book and me. “This.”

I snatch it out of his hand and walk toward my bedroom.

His voice follows me. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

“Fuck off.”

“Wine?”

I slam the bedroom door.

“Maybe some rose petals?”

“Shut up, fucker.”

His laughter carries through the cabin.

I drop onto the air mattress and immediately scowl. Damn thing’s already going flat.

Fuck it. I’ll blow it back up later.

I open the book and begin reading.

For the first few pages, I'm convinced Presley has terrible taste.