“And I don’t want to do that,” I continued. “Not with you. So… if you still want me on that trip, I want to be on it.”
His gaze softened, something like relief flickering behind it.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want you on it.”
“Good,” I said, nodding too quickly. “But.”
He lifted a brow. “But?”
“But we need separate tents.”
A slow, amused smile curved his mouth. “Separate tents.”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“You know why.”
“I want to hear you say it, though.”
My cheeks heated instantly. “Carson.”
He lifted a poppy-seed muffin from the basket, tore off the top, and took a slow bite like he had all the time in the world.
“Say it,” he repeated, voice warm and unbearably patient.
I glared at him, heat rolling across my chest.
“Fine,” I said. “Separate tents because… too many feelings have erupted since we slept together.”
He didn’t choke on his muffin. Hesmiled.
Really smiled. A full, breathtaking, heartbreakingly devastating smile.
“That so?” he murmured.
I crossed my arms. “Don’t look so pleased.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Try.”
“No.”
I groaned, pacing a few steps away before turning back to point at him.
“I am trying to be responsible. Professional. Slightly less unhinged.”
He took another bite of his muffin, eyes never leaving mine.
“So… we’re avoiding shared tents now?”
“Yes,” I declared.
“Even if the weather dips below freezing like last time?”
My mouth opened. Closed. “That was different.”
