“Congratulations,” I tell her. “We killed it.”
“What? Killed what, the snake?”
“Nope.” I turn and grin at her. “The air mattress. Time of death—” I glance at my watch. “Ten forty-three p.m.”
“Oh shit.”
She stretches out to look, watching as the tag from the sleeping bag flutters in the air that’s escaping the mattress at an alarming rate. I grin and pull her against me, toppling us both back onto our rapidly deflating air mattress. Honestly, I don’t care. I could sleep naked in the dirt and be happy as long as Lisa’s with me.
She giggles and snuggles against me as we descend into the sinking surface. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “I think I even have a patch kit in the truck.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“What? That we almost died from a nonexistent snake, or that we fucked our air mattress to death?”
“No, you,” she says, propping her chin on my chest. “You were going to face down a vicious rattlesnake to save me.”
I laugh, appreciating what a noble view of me she has. “Anything for you, babe.”
She smiles and folds herself into my arms, sighing as the air continues to billow from our mattress. My butt sinks to the ground, and I’m going to have a killer backache tomorrow, but right now, I don’t care.
Right now, in this moment with Lisa, is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
Chapter 17
Lisa
Something changes after the camping trip, though I’m not sure how to describe it exactly.
Some of it’s easy to pinpoint—the way Dax sleeps over instead of rushing home, or the way he invites me to join the crew when Helping Paws gets an unexpected influx of bedraggled dogs from a puppy mill in Corvallis.
Some of it is harder to describe. It’s a feeling, I guess. The way he steals glimpses at me when we’re driving somewhere together, or the way he holds my hand under the table when we have dinner with Cassie and Simon.
“I really like your boyfriend,” Cassie whispered when we were leaving, though the extra glass of port she enjoyed over dessert made it more of a loud hiss than a whisper.
I know Dax heard her, but neither of us bothered to correct her.
Is that what he was trying to say in the tent? That he wanted to have an actual relationship? I’m not sure, and I’m almost afraid to ask. Afraid that’s what I want, and that I won’t actually get it if I say the words out loud.
Besides, I spent my entire twenties desperate to get married. Isn’t part of The Test supposed to be me learning how not to be in a relationship?
That doesn’t stop me from wanting it, specifically with Dax.
“Whatcha thinking?”
I shake off my daydream and see him regarding me with curiosity from across the table. We’re eating corndogs in the AfriCafe at the Oregon Zoo, sandwiched between the Elephant Plaza and the Predators of the Serengeti exhibit.
“I’m thinking the zoo was a really great idea.”
He laughs and swirls his corndog through a puddle of ketchup. “Way to pat yourself on the back,” he says. “I don’t disagree, though.”
“Well, you have to admit, a day at the zoo is more or less the opposite of spending the day mediating an argument between two clients who can’t decide whether to redo their rumpus room in giraffe print or zebra.” I reach across the table to steal one of Dax’s fries.
He pushes the whole basket toward me. “What the hell is a rumpus room, anyway?”
“It’s what pretentious snobs call a game room.” I refrain from admitting I’m one of those pretentious snobs, or at least I used to be. Now, I’m not so sure.
“I’m proud of you, Lisa.”
