He shot me an exasperated look while he tugged me closer. “Don’t make me put my arm around you, because I will,” he threatened.
“I knew I would end up carrying you up this mountain.” He tickled the side of my stomach until I said I was sorry. For the record, I wasnotsorry.
I held hands with Logan Marten the rest of the way up the mountain. In a very non-friends sort of way. My heart was nearly bursting—also in anon-friendssort of way. When we finally arrived, it was as spectacular as I had remembered.
We stopped at the empty third pool, appreciating the beauty. Logan’s sweat-drenched face looked as if he would appreciate a quick dip, but I made him keep moving. I wanted to set up our camp and get organized first, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy the hot spring until we did so. It was another quarter-mile walk on a flat trail until the thicket of trees spread out enough that we could pitch our tents.
Between the drive to the base, a pit-stop for lunch, and the hike, we had arrived at the hot springs just before 6 p.m. I wanted to be sitting in the pool in time to watch the sunset.
The camp was empty, except for a large bear box. I had figured it would be less crowded than the other two equally striking hot pools, but I hadn’t planned on quite so much solitude. I’d been imagining other campers nearby with tents and fire pits, sharing polite nods. Perhaps more would be coming. Sunset was a popular time.
“Do you want to eat dinner real quick?” Logan asked, inhaling a granola bar.
“I’ll wait until after the hot pools. You can do whatever. I’m going to set up my tent and change into my swimsuit.”
He nodded before shoving the last bite in his mouth, and began rummaging through his pack.
I rummaged through mine, too.
And then I kept rummaging. Searching for something that didn’t seem to be there.
In a panic, I dumped my backpack out on the ground. My swimsuit, shorts, underwear, towel, mascara, and extra sports bra all piled into a heap while I searched needlessly for my missing tent. Missing TENT. Yeah, I didn’t think it got stuck between my extra pair of underwear and my shorts, but since I KNOW I packed it, my search begged to be thorough. I came up empty.
Logan had his tent set up in about five seconds. He then threw his backpack inside the small, pitched, triangle shape and turned to face me.
“What’s that look for?”
I closed my gaping mouth and blinked. My mouth opened again, but nothing came out.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked again.
“I don’t have my tent.”
His gaze landed on the backpack I was gripping in panic and the spillage of my stuff on the ground. “You didn’t pack it?”
“I packed it.”
“Then, why isn’t it here?”
“I don’t know.”
There was a beat of silence before I met his eyes. Mirth, hidden behind dark lashes, looked back at me. My fingers clenched even while my heart spiked.
“I packed it.”
“Did you, though?” He stared down at me, arms folded and eyebrows raised, enjoying himself immensely.
“I wouldn’t have spent an hour last night in my garage, searching for my brother’s old musty backpack-sized tent, okay? I packed it.” Suddenly, a thought so blinding in its truth and so deceitful in its nature came to my mind. I gasped, my hands covering my mouth.
“Jake.”
“Jake what?”
“Jake did this.”
“Listen, Tess, we can’t blame Jake for you wanting to snuggle with me tonight.”
I jumped to my feet. “This morning. He asked me to grab him a piece of cake, and like an idiot, I left him alone on the porch with my bags.”
