I didn’t exactly pack for a camping trip. But there’s no way I’m sharing with the class how many pairs of athletic sets I shoved in my suitcase for the conference.
Thankfully, the weather in Nashville was in the thirties, so I’m prepared, for the most part.
I stand back and watch as Easton loads his things into the box while organizing all of mine in the passenger seat of the van. “You don’t have to do that. We can make room for both of our things.”
He turns toward me, eyes filled with nothing but sarcasm. “I’ll manage just fine. Besides, wouldn’t want a bear to feast on your Gucci.”
Myonedesigner bag. I knew buying it would come back to bite me in the ass. Little does he know, I’m still paying the bitch off.
“It’d be worth it if I got to see a bear.” I wink, and he goes back to his task.
I use the quiet moment to take Easton in, and I gotta say, my judgement before was correct. He’s a hottie.
Next level hot, actually. After Dirty Dan bid us farewell, Easton hustled to the secondary Ranger station about a half mile through the trees to change and use the communal restroom. Although we have a small portable toilet with evenly distributed walls—half the size of a porta-potty, and close distance to our camper. My guess is that he needed a moment of space.
I get it.
However, I’m not sure what I expected him to look like in regular clothes and not a dismantled tux. But it definitely wasn’t a blue-collar dessert. Tastefully wrapped in formfitting Wrangler jeans with worn fading throughout, telling me just how hands-on Easton is.
Hot.Like a hot and spicy McChicken with extra sauce.
Steel-toe brown work boots cover his feet, and a basic white tee hugs his frame. His enormously tall and muscular frame. Because holy shit—he’s huge. Arm muscles bigger than my face, and a chest that could literally stand against a bear fight.
I’d love to see that face-off.
But the thing I’m salivating over the most, and one I never got a chance to admire with his modest suit on, is the pigmented layer of black and gray tattoos covering his arms from clavicle to wrist. Unfortunately for me, he threw a hoodie on seconds later, covering up the delectable view.
My fault for having a filthy mind, but God, he’s attractive. Dark brown hair neatly trimmed on the sides, tousled in loose waves on top, and a full beard kept short and clean. He’s so ruggedly handsome and nothing like my normal type at all. I seem to always attract the studious ones. The men who sit behind a desk all day and study graphs, sales reports, or whatever it is they do in a modern building in the city.
But Easton…I bet he gets those big, strong hands dirty. Really dirty. Bet they’ve got torn-up calluses on them, too.
I need to stop. I’ve been here a damn day and I’m already imagining his hands on my horny little body.
I don’t date. Refuse to. I have a one-track mind to get off and get movin’.
Kindly, of course.
Any man warming my bed knows what to expect oncewe’ve both been satisfied—a quick goodbye and not a phone number to be shared.
Easton is not that guy. Especially not now. The guy might as well have ‘damaged goods’ written across his forehead. The tux and woman’s boarding pass serve as a dead giveaway.
I have my reservations. And while I have yet to see a wedding band on his finger, something makes me question if he has someone waiting for him back home.
“Ready to take a look?”
“Huh?” I blurt out, sounding like I was caught with my hands in my panties.
“Want to check out the inside?” he asks casually. “It’s roomier than I thought. Might not be too bad.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” I walk to the back of the van and stand beside Easton with the hatch open. “Oh,” I exhale, examining the small space. “It’s actually kinda…cute.”
He nods before flicking a switch by the door panel. “Check this out.”
My eyes light up as the little orange van comes to life. With the back seats laid flat, at least ten fluffy pillows line the perimeter, while layers of comforters cover the bottom. The style is eclectic and homey, nothing like I expected.
I imagined something along the lines of hunting camo and burgundy-colored accents. This is a pleasant surprise.
That’s when I notice the twinkling lights Easton turned on that string along the worn fabric ceiling. They’re a soft yellow, making the space feel even more cozy and quaint.
