“No.”
The answer is quick. Automatic.
“I’m heading back to camp,” he continues. “Brothers got eyes on this side. Nobody’s coming near this dock without somebody seeing it.”
I fold my arms. “That’s reassuring in a vaguely stalker-adjacent way.”
He ignores that like he ignores anything that would make him feel too human. “How was your day?”
I blink. “You kidnapped me and you’re asking how my day was?”
“It ain’t kidnapping,” he mutters.
“Camping,” I correct.
He nods once like he hates that I’m right. “So?”
I hesitate, because the truth is I did have a good day, and that makes me feel guilty, like I’m betraying my own fear.
“I laid out,” I admit.
His brows draw together. “In what?”
I shrug, pretending it doesn’t matter. Bra and panties, but I don’t tell him that.
His jaw flexes like I punched him.
“You didn’t have a suit,” he says slow.
“I didn’t have clothes at all,” I say, testing him.
A muscle jumps in his cheek. “You were just… out here?”
“In the sun,” I say sweet as pie. “On the dock. Reading a book from in there. Minding my own business.”
He exhales through his nose like he’s trying not to lose his temper on a lake. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?” I tease. “Scared the lake monster was gonna blush?”
His gaze drags over me like he’s picturing it, anyway. Warmth rises up my neck, sharp and unwanted and way too alive for a situation that’s supposed to be survival.
“You trying to kill me?” he mutters.
I grin. “You said you weren’t staying.”
“That don’t mean I ain’t got an imagination.”
I lean back against the porch railing. “Relax. No one saw.”
His eyes flick toward the treeline anyway, instinctive.
“That you know of,” he says.
I roll mine. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re reckless.”
“Reckless is sunbathing nude?” I laugh soft. “You’re a biker, Oaks. Don't be so shocked.”
