I pushed the binder aside and groaned into my hands.
“Get it together, Harper. They’re paying for a wilderness vacation, not a front-row seat to your feelings.”
A knock sounded at the open door, and my heart jumped.
Carson leaned against the frame, one hand braced above him, a silhouette backlit by the fading evening light streaming from the hallway window.
Oh, no.
He looked unfairly incredible for a man who’d spent all day hauling gear and checking pack weights. Clean shirt. Damp hair. Tired but steady eyes. Calm expression that did absolutely nothing to soothe the chaos inside me.
“Hey,” he said.
So casual.
So mild.
So dangerously capable of unraveling my sanity with one syllable.
I cleared my throat. “Hey. Did you need something?”
He lifted the corner of his mouth. “I could ask you the same.”
“I’m working,” I said quickly. “Like an adult. Not panicking in any way.”
His eyebrow rose. Damn him.
I folded my arms tightly. “Okay, maybe panickingslightly.But only in responsible, grown-up bursts.”
He stepped into the office and closed the door halfway, just enough to soften the hall noise and send my heart into a whirlwind.
His voice lowered. “You’re worried about tomorrow.”
“No,” I lied. Then amended, “Yes. Maybe. Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something,” I accused.
He let out an amused exhale and came closer. “About the trip. Are you nervous?”
“Nervous? Me? Absolutely not.” I inhaled too sharply. “I mean, why would I be? Honeymooners. Easy. Chill. The onlyrule is don’t mention raisins or dry humping. That’s it. Totally manageable.”
Carson stilled for a second, and then a slow, deep laugh rolled out of him.
Hot damn.
I felt that laugh in places without names.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t believe you said that in public.”
“I would like not to talk about it ever again.” I smiled.
“Dry humping or raisins?”
His smile only grew.
“Carson,” I warned.
