“Fine, fine,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll make us something to eat.”
Finley scrambled to her feet, my oversized shirt and shorts hanging loosely on her athletic frame. Gods help me, she was a sight to behold.
“Why don’t I make us something?” She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip.
I pointed at her. “That look worries me. Do you even know how to cook? I’d rather not get food poisoning when I don’t have magic to heal myself.”
Her lips pressed together in mock offense. “I can cook just fine.”
I leaned back on my elbows and smirked. “I recall a time when we tried to cook over an open fire, and you burned water.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s called steam, Brenton.”
“It was smoke.” My grin widened. “My smoke magic makes me an expert on such things.”
“You’re exaggerating.” The twitch of her lips ruined her glare. My stomach twisted when she removed my clothes to put her own on. “Am I making us breakfast or not?”
“Depends.” I stretched my back before I stood at her side, fingering the hem of her shirt where the sun had bronzed her skin. I couldn’t help it. I dipped my head, pressing a slow kiss to the curve of her neck. “How do you make sun-kissed look breathtaking?” I murmured against her before I straightened with a playful smirk on my face. “Is making me breakfast on your list of things you want to do?”
Her cheeks reddened with that sweet blush I lived for, but ever the warrior goddess, she angled her chin and pointed at her pack. “Why don’t you pull it out and see?”
With her permission, I wasted little time in retrieving it. Her pack was organized chaos with daggers tucked in beside dried fruit, a bound book, and what she had left of the lollipops, all nine of them.
Tucked between it all was a folded scrap.
I stepped out of the tent, unfolded it with exaggerated care as I approached the fire. “Ah, Finley’s sacred list.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
I cleared my throat. “Number one: Provide Brenton with daily massages while wearing nothing but seashells.”
She snorted. “That is not on there.”
“Number two,” I continued, “inform Brenton at least twice a day how unfairly attractive he is.”
She smiled, shaking her head before she lunged for it. I lifted the parchment higher.
“My turn,” she said. “Make Finley a crown and make her queen for a day.”
I hummed thoughtfully. “Why be a queen when you’re already a goddess?”
She stilled, amusement flickering into something softer. “You didn’t touch my lollipops, did you? I’ll gut you if you stole any.”
I laughed, folding the parchment but keeping it in hand. “I’m doomed either way. If your cooking doesn’t kill me, your sass surely will.”
The chill of morning air wrapped around us, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and seared meat as we crouched beside the fire.
“Who knew you were such a dramatic male?” she teased, the corner of her mouth tugging higher.
I reached over, sweeping her hair off her shoulder, careful not to topple us both into the fire. Sliding the collar of her shirt to the side, I pressed my lips to the warm curve of her shoulder. “You knew,” I said, trailing my lips down her arm in a slow taunt. “Since we were younglings, you nagged me about being dramatic.”
Her laugh was soft and tender, pulling at my heart and making my chest tight. Memories of us and our shared youth kept surfacing like hidden treasures, and each one made it even more obvious that I’d always been hers.
“I remember,” she said, her words bleeding with warmth, “when you refused to come down a tree because you said the world down there was too cruel.” Her eyes caught mine. “I had to climb up after you. Was it you or me who cried the entire time I climbed?”
“Definitely you.” I cupped her chin to kiss her cheek. “You stayed with me while I clung to the branch like some crazed little beast. You stayed until I finally came down.”
Her eyes softened, hazel orbiting her silver gaze. “No wonder you’re so crazy about me.”
