“Devin,” Flynn whispers, his breath warm against the chilled shell of my ear.
“Hmm?”
“You can open your eyes now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Bella went back down by?—”
“What?” I ask, my eyes popping open. I watch in horror as Bella trots toward the picnic table—near my phone. I hold my breath, praying that she doesn’t trample my phone. It might have survived the little guy stepping on it, but no phone is built to withstand a thousand pounds of pressure.
She stops, front hoof an inch from the device.
“What’s she doing?” I whisper to Flynn.
“I don’t know.”
She lifts her head, as though looking at me, then lowers it again. She starts to trot off, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Until her back foot kicks my phone right into the rushing, rocky stream. I let out some sort of strangled sob as I watch it sink into the water.
Bella and her son trot away into the tall grass, in a hurry to disappear. Their speed is impressively scary.
I wait a few more seconds after I can no longer see the tall grass swaying before I dare move, but then I double time it down the trail, hoping it’s not too late to save my phone.
In my haste, I trip on a flip-flop. Again.
Flynn is not there to catch me this time, and I unceremoniously tumble down the hill, right into the stream. My ankle catches on a rock, and I let out a cry half a second before my face smashes into the soft mud.
So much for getting laid tonight.
Chapter Six
Flynn
“Where are we going exactly?” Devin asks, her tone understandably skeptical. Now that it’s an hour past sunset, it’s pitch black in the park. With the sky overcast, the only light shines a quarter mile ahead, casting a dim glow over a one-bedroom cabin.
“My grandparents have a cabin.”
“On state park land?”
“Actually, there’s a small five-acre section inside the park that doesn’t belong to the state. My family has had a claim to it for almost a hundred and fifty years. They’re grandfathered in.”
“Your grandparents won’t mind us barging in this late?”
“They’re in Bozeman for the weekend.”
“So, it’s empty?”
Before I can answer her question, I notice the truck acting up. I press harder on the gas pedal, but instead of accelerating, the engine sputters and dies a good two hundred yards from the cabin.
Shit.
“What happened?”
“Ran out of gas.” I suck in a breath to hold in my frustration. I intended to gas up right after Tabby left with her mom. But with Devin filling the cab of my truck with her intoxicating lavender scent and witty humor when I pulled out of the lodge’s parking lot, I completely forgot my tank was nearly empty before we headed back into the park.
“What does that mean?”
