His smile, too.
And his voice.
His copper eyes.
The exterior is amazing, but he goes deeper too. Much deeper than I expected. Do I want more? How much more? I’m like a greedy little miner digging for gold. I know there are gems there, too—and not connected to the one that belonged to my grandmother that I’m wearing on my finger.
That’s when I realize that I wouldn’t say no to matching bands with Connor. To marry him for real.
He’s silent and slows to let a truck pass on the narrow road.
I slap a mosquito. “You said we were going to be spending time outdoors. Define outdoors.”
“The annual Wolfe family camping trip.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re not going to be making S’mores around a campfire?”
“Because you saw what my brother is like.”
“What about your dad? Mom?”
“Dad always said, ‘No one is coming to save you.’ Harsh but true, so we learned survival skills.”
“Was that part of your bedtime story routine? If so, I’ll stick with Little Red Riding Hood.”
He chuckles. “My father was a failed football hopeful. He pushed us boys hard. When he passed away, Cain carried on the tradition.” Connor doesn’t lift his eyes from the road.
“But before that? Your mother?”
“I’ll never know the whole story, but from what I understand, Dennis Wolfe built the cabin, dragged my mother out there, and convinced her to live off the land. They were completely off the grid. Nothing wrong with being self-reliant. I admire it, but he went to extremes. She got pregnant with me and didn’t make it. You’d think he’d have gone back to civilization, but instead, he went deeper into isolation.” Connor scratches the stubble that shades his jawline. “I think, in a strange way, he convinced himself that if he taught us to survive, he wouldn’t lose us as well.”
“But he did.”
Connor nods. “Dad was aggressive. Abusive. Made me feel like I never measured up. I think he and Cain blamed me.”
Understanding crystallizes. “The lone wolf.”
“Yeah. School was a different story when I’d play football at recess. Whatever my father lacked in talent and skill, I somehow gained. I was hooked. Obsessed. And pretty good at it, if I do say so.”
My heart aches for him. “Then what?”
“He passed away during my sophomore year in college. Except for my annual return for the camping trip, I left and never looked back.”
“Same,” I say softly.
But the Jeep barrels along the dirt roads, getting narrower and narrower until we pass more Jeeps, trucks, and SUVs lining the sides. At last, Connor comes to a halt, quickly unloads some gear he got at the storage locker, and then helps me out.
With a quick peck on my cheek, he says, “Wait here. Be right back.”
My palm presses against my skin. “What was that?” I whisper, only it sounds more like a giddy little whimper of surprise.
Before I have a chance to process the quick kiss, Connor jogs back to meet me. It’s hard to take my eyes off him, but I look around at my surroundings and my gaze lands on the sign overhead.
“What is this? Where have you brought me? Is this revenge for the ballet class?” My eyes narrow, my lips pucker, and my nostrils flare.
He claps his arm around my shoulders and says, “That’s the exact kind of grit needed to make it out here.”
“Out here? Where are we?”
