Her breath hitched. “Like… zip them together?”
“Exactly.”
She blinked. “Is that allowed for married couple guides?”
I almost choked. “We’re not—”
She raised an eyebrow weakly. “You know what I mean.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “This is purely for warmth.”
Her gaze flicked toward my chest, then down to her own layered torso. “Well, I’m in fleece and wool and thermal leggings and two pairs of socks, so nothing… weird should happen.”
“Right,” I said, even though a hot, traitorous part of me whispered otherwise. “Nothing weird.”
We maneuvered the bags together with clumsy midnight coordination, zipping the sides until they formed one long cocoon with just enough space for two people. Barely.
“Scoot,” I murmured.
“No, you scoot.”
“I’m bigger.”
“Exactly.”
I gave her a flat look. “Sienna.”
She rolled her eyes, but she shifted closer, crawling inside the merged bag until she settled at one end. I slid in beside her, careful, precise, every muscle tensed like a spring.
The heat hit me instantly. Her warmth. Her scent. The faint brush of her hip against mine.
Too close.
Far too close.
She burrowed down into the lining and sighed in relief. “Okay. This was a good idea.”
“Yep.”
“And strictly for survival reasons.”
“Strictly.”
“And because you care about my safety.”
“That’s the only reason,” I said quickly.
Her fingers accidentally brushed my forearm.
We both froze.
Then she whispered, “Oh. You’re warm.”
Too warm.
Dangerously warm.
I cleared my throat. “Heat retention. It’s just physics.”
