I wink at him. “Theories are the prelude to uncovering the truth.”
Hunter squeezes my waist. “Okay, trouble, let’s get some s’mores while we wait for the men in black.”
Ian whoops like this is the best news of the night and jumps up to collect a bag of marshmallows and some long metal stickswith wooden handles. He passes them to me and Hunter, then he’s off to talk to someone else about aliens.
“You are a constant surprise,” Hunter says.
“Why?” I think I’m pretty predictable.
“Some stranger opens up with his crackpot theories about ET and you humor him.”
“I did no such thing.”
His hand cups my face and turns it toward him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Eleanor Austin, do you believe in aliens?”
“Only arrogant fools believe we are all alone, and only idiots convince themselves we are the most advanced species in the universe.”
He shakes his head and runs his lips over mine. There’re a thousand unspoken promises in his kiss, ones I want to steal and hold close to my heart for all time. “How do you like your s’mores?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never had them?”
I shake my head, a little embarrassed. It’s another thing I seem to be missing from the traditional suburban childhood. He slides a couple of marshmallows onto the end of my stick and does the same to his. “Put them on the edge of the fire like this.”
I observe how he delicately cooks his marshmallows, twisting until the soft sugary treat starts to color. “Some people like them done lightly, but I prefer them almost black, with little crunchy bits on the outside and gooey goodness on the inside.”
I follow his lead and sample one of my marshmallows with a little color. Damn, that’s good. They are addictive, my body already craving the one remaining on my stick. I leave my final one in a little longer, mirroring Hunter’s preference and groan at the result. Yes, that’s so much better.
There’s light-hearted laughter and a low buzz of happiness surrounding the fire as couples cozy up under the blanket ofstars. William has his guitar out and plays quietly as he hums a familiar rock tune. A shiver rolls over my shoulders, and I notice the chill settling in the air for the first time.
Hunter drops a kiss on my temple. “Wait here; I’ll go grab a blanket. The temperature tends to drop more out here.”
Then he’s up and moving into the dark expanse of trees behind me. Do bears come out at night? Spiders do. A full-body shudder racks through me, disturbing Charlie at my feet. Hunter better have zipped our tent up, or I’m sleeping in the truck.
William suddenly stops playing, and when I glance up, he’s frowning at my hands.Oops.He’s off his feet and striding toward me before I can excuse myself and take my chances with the bears.
He offers me his guitar, and I push my hands between my knees and arch a brow at him.
“You play.”
Not a question, but I still answer to try to finish this conversation before Hunter reappears. “Yes. But not well.”
“No one cares how well, Eleanor. Play for us.”
“I don’t do audiences.”
He raises a brow, and for the first time, I understand how he has climbed to the top of an MC and manages to rule without violence. I huff and take the instrument from his hand, ignoring the smug smile on his lips. Settling it on my lap, the familiar weight washes away some of my fear and anxiety from the day. I strum each string a little and make tiny adjustments to the tuning.
“What do you want me to play?” I ask, not looking up from the strings.
“Ladies choice, but I’ll be shocked if it’s not cheesy pop.”
Challenge accepted.
Chapter Forty-Three
Hunter
