“Not once. And you seem like the kind of guy who’d know how.”
“There’s not much to it, really,” I say. “Just throw a tent and some sleeping bags in the car, pack a cooler with camping food, and head out into the wilderness.”
“That sounds so—exotic.”
I smile to myself, charmed by how easy it is to impress her. To introduce her to something totally mundane and have her experience it for the first time. Forget the antiquated triumph of deflowering some simpering virgin. The thrill of de-virginizing Lisa with an array of new life experiences beats that hands down.
“So how about next weekend?” I suggest, restraining myself from suggesting we jump in the car right this second and drive off into the mountains together. “Are you free?”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. My birthday is Saturday, and I like the idea of falling asleep under the stars.”
I picture myself there beside her, the two of us snuggled up inside sleeping bags zipped together. I imagine her bare ass cradled spoon-style against me, her hair smelling of campfire.
I tell myself to knock it off when I catch myself inhaling.
“That sounds perfect,” I say. “I have all the gear—tent, sleeping bags, air mattress, camp stove—the whole works. I’ll even get the sleeping bags dry cleaned before we head out.”
“Oh,” she says, like the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “You have a pair of sleeping bags. Does one of them belong to Kaitlyn or something?”
I bark out a laugh, not sure if I’m more surprised she remembers my ex’s name or at the idea of Kaitlyn going camping.
“Kaitlyn has definitely never been camping,” I tell her. “You’re one up on her there.”
And in so many other ways, I think but don’t say.
“Well. Okay, that’s good. I mean—I’m glad.” She sounds flustered, and I think about how strange this must be for her. In a quest for new experiences, is she ever worried about losing herself?
“I can bring the camping food,” she offers. “I have a cooler I’ve taken to potlucks, and there’s this great cookbook I found on haute cuisine for campfires.”
“Is that a fancy way of saying hot dogs?”
“No hot dogs,” she says. “But I definitely have a surprise or two planned.”
My heart speeds up, and I wonder what she has in mind. Is it sexy, culinary, or something else entirely?
Truthfully, I don’t care. I’m just excited to spend a whole weekend with her.
Keep it together, I remind myself. Don’t get carried away.
Deep down, I think it might be too late for that. I think I’m falling for Lisa Michaels.
Chapter 15
Lisa
“Aren’t you glad I made you go back and change clothes?”
Dax’s words are teasing, not smug, but I still seize the opportunity to smack his shoulder before I return to the task of scraping melted marshmallow off the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
“Fine,” I say, ignoring the desire that flutters through me from contact with his shoulder. Good Lord, the man is ripped. “You’re right that it’s a lot easier to get marshmallow out of fleece than cashmere.”
“And aren’t those sneakers more comfortable than those high heels would have been?”
“They weren’t high heels, they were wedges. But yes,” I admit grudgingly. “I’m glad you had me change clothes.”
“And I’m glad you let me watch.”
“Even if it did result in us hitting the road an hour late.”
