“For an old man, I guess you can hold your own,” I pant, wiping my face off with my dry shirt.
“I’mthirty-eight.You act like I’m ancient,” he laughs, the sound warm and easy on the ears.
I chuckle, taking in his slight salt and pepper beard. In the setting sun, I can see now that his hair is more of a warm hazelnut brown—the kind you imagine at a log cabin in the woods. Has he ever dyed it? I hope not. Age suits him.
I’ve never been with an older guy before.
I’m ashamed as soon as the thought comes forward. My eyes dart away, hoping and praying to think of something else.
Jesus, Noah.
Where the hell did that come from?And why does it have my dick twitch in my pants? I look down at myself thickening against my shorts and immediately cover it with my hands. The whole wet shorts thing is probably the worst-case scenario right now.
“I’m hungry,” I blurt.
His eyes curiously scan me from head to toe. I nervously chew on my lip ring, hoping that he doesn’t notice what I’m trying to hide.
Butinstead of my shorts, his gaze settles on my lip. He straightens up and looks away.
“Alright. Let’s get you fed,” he says, smacking me lightly on the chest with the back of his hand before heading back to the trail.
I watch as he goes. Maybe there’s more to Brad than he leads on. I saw a short flicker of it just now in the water. If anything, maybe I can peel back the layers this weekend and find out more. I’ll call it a favor for my mom.
***
“Can you pass me the hot dogs?” Brad asks, rummaging through his duffel bag.
“Why can’t you get it yourself?” I reply, poking at the fire he got started. Since we’ve been back at camp, I can’t help myself—Ihaveto keep pushing his buttons.
He turns, jaw tight. I swear, I’ve never had this much fun annoying someone.
“Dammit, Noah. Does everything have to be a struggle with you?” he mutters, marching over to the cooler.
I bite back a smirk as he grabs the hot dogs and starts sliding them onto skewers.
“You’re cooking your own or you’re not eating,” he says, holding a skewer just out of my reach.
“You’d let me starve?”
“I’m not opposed to it. You’re a grown-ass man, right?”
I narrow my eyes. “Nowyou’re getting it.” I lunge and snatch the poker from his hand. Our fingers brush for a split second—and I feel it. That heat again. I’m not sure where it’s coming from but I shove it down.
“What’d you say you did again?” I ask, sitting back in one of the camp chairs, slipping my skewer into the fire.
“Contractor. Why?”
“Just curious. Mom only ever says you make good money.”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, okay. I get it. You’re not a fan of your mom.” He sits across from me and starts cooking his own hot dogs.
“Just giving you the heads up.” I shrug. “Trying to save you.”
“No, you’re just being a dick.”
His words cut a little deeper than expected. I turn back to my food, lips pressed together.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
