Lucy twists in her seat, shifting so her entire body faces me. “Our tent?”
“Yes, our tent. No way in hell am I going to let you sleep alone in some flimsy tent in the middle of God knows where. Speaking of which, where are we going?”
“Just follow the GPS. I’m going to set a new destination from my phone. Tently is going to place an order for curbside pickup at Cabella’s. How convenient is that?”
“So convenient,” I deadpan. “Remind me to email Tently my undying gratitude.”
“I’ll do that. Now, can we get back to this whole‘I’m not letting you sleep alone in a tent’bullshit?”
“Can you blame me? Frankly, your total lack of self-preservation is concerning.”
“My— What?” she splutters, dark curls bouncing as she shakes her head. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”
“Me? You’re the one who wants to sleep out in the woods with only a thin vinyl covering for protection. What if a bear wanders into your campsite?”
She throws her hands up. “And how exactly are you going to protect me from a bear? Are you going to wrestle it to the ground while I run for help?”
For fuck’s sake. Why is it so hot in here? “I mean, I would if—”
“Exactly.” She crosses her arms, and when I reach over to turn up the air conditioner, her lips are pinched in disapproval. “I’m twenty-three years old, Miles. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
“I never said you couldn’t.” A fresh wave of cool air blows across my knuckles, providing instant relief.
“It was implied,” she says, turning the air back down.
“Come on, Luce. I’m dying over here.”
“I’m freezing.”
That’s not possible. It’s eighty-five degrees outside, and I’m feeling every bit of that sun as it beats down on the driver’s side of the Jeep.
I glance over my shoulder, checking the back seat. My fleece is still back there from the other day. “Maybe you could put on another layer?”
“Maybe you could take off a layer.”
I reach for the fleece and freeze. It takes me a full three seconds to process her words.
“Did you just ask me to take off my shirt?”
A slow flush creeps over her cheeks, staining them a deep shade of crimson. “It was a joke.”
“Or was it?” I challenge. “Because I’m more than happy to remove my shirt. Like I said, I’m burning up.”
In more ways than one.
“Dios mío.” She turns the AC up to the highest setting. “Fine. You win.”
It’s a minor victory. One that does little to temper my growing desire. Desire I shouldn’t feel and can’t seem to shake no matter how many times I remind myself it’s a terrible fucking idea to mix business and pleasure.
“If you’re that cold, we could swing by Starbucks and get a nice hot coffee to warm you up,” I offer.
Her eyes light up at the mention of Starbucks.
I should’ve suggested it days ago. For all Lucy’s talk of my gourmet coffee addiction, she’s got quite the habit herself. I can’t remember the last time she showed up at the office without a cup bearing the green-and-white siren.
“I could really go for a caramel macchiato.” It’s her favorite drink, and she hasn’t had one in over a week. If there’s anything that can crack her budget-loving armor, it’s Starbucks. “Just the thought of steamed milk and that sweet caramel drizzle has my mouth watering. What do you say?”
She chews her bottom lip, considering. It takes all my self-control to wait her out.
