“Yes.”
Trey smiled, shyness melting away into joy. “Good. Me too.”
Dom sealed the promise with a long, firm kiss that could have gone places if they’d had more time. Eventually they untangled themselves. Trey walked him to the camper door, always close, using every excuse to maintain skin-to-skin contact.
“I’ll try to get my crew to dinner around five thirty, over by the barbecue-stand picnic tables,” Trey said. “If you can work it, bring your guys over. We can test the waters.”
“I’ll do my best.” Dom kept their last kiss to a quick peck; otherwise he’d have to stay another five minutes. And staying any longer was dangerous. “Later.”
“See ya.”
Dom peeked through the door, relieved to see only handful of people a ways away, and totally minding their own business. He slipped outside and around the back of the trailer, and disappeared into the maze of tents, campers, RVs, and vehicles.
He and Trey had both played their hearts out today, they had declared themselves exclusive, and Dom had never been happier—a fragile happiness one wrong move from breaking into pieces.
THIRTEEN
Trey sprawledout on his back on the king mattress, limbs askew, a buzz of joy lighting all of his nerves. He never imagined he’d find a guy who made him feel . . . right. Content. Whole. At peace with all of the shit in his past and present. He had no way to define it other than “Dominic.” The whole package lit him up.
And now they were officially a couple. He wanted to scream it to the sky for anyone to hear.
Someday soon he would.
The camper door banged open. Trey jolted into a sitting position, then flopped back down when Danielle entered. Alone. Their cover story was Trey had felt a migraine coming on—something he infrequently got when he was majorly stressed—so he needed some quiet time in the camper. Only Danielle knew the truth.
“Just making sure you’re alone,” Danielle said, “before I text Andy and tell him he can come back here to take a dump. Apparently he’s finicky about public toilets.”
“Blech.” Trey was definitely clearing out for that performance.
“What? Don’t tell me you like them?”
“Hell no. I was bleching over the future smell.”
She laughed. “Whatever. I’ll never understand what it is about guys and pooping. It doesn’t take thirty minutes, seriously.”
Trey shrugged, unsure if she even saw him, because he was not unpacking that particular male quirk on her. “How’s the competition?”
“Good. Really good. Okay, so really, really good.”
He sat up again, not liking the uncertainty in her voice. She was actively typing on her phone while talking to him. “Don’t you dare start second-guessing our performance, because if you start, then I’ll start, and we’ll be a pair of basket cases sitting on the floor eating that tube of cookie dough you stashed in the back of the fridge.”
She stopped texting, eyes popping wide. “You stay away from my cookie dough, buster. I’m, like, two days away from my period, and I’m going to need the chocolate.”
“TMI.”
“Hey, at least I’m not badgering you for details about your afternoon tryst.” She made a show of sniffing the air. “Don’t tell me we went through all this trouble and he didn’t put out?”
Trey snickered. “We got that out of the way ages ago. Place aired out.”
“Guess so. So you had fun?”
“Oh yeah.” He crooked a finger, drawing her closer until she stood at the foot of the raised bed. Just in case Andy walked in. “We’re officially dating. And we’re exclusive.”
Her mouth dropped open. “For real?”
“Yeah. I really, really like him, Dani. A lot.”
“I can tell. You’ve got that young-love, sparkle-eye thing going on. It’s nauseating as hell, but also kind of adorable, since I’ve never seen it from you. I don’t think I’ve ever met any of the guys you’ve fucked around with.”
