“I might have also brought a few more things.”
He grins, shaking his head, and yeah—I think I might melt.
“I’m a creature of comfort, what can I say? I like to be prepared.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but that pack? Isnotgoing to be comfortable.”
The knots that are already forming in my back say he might have a point.
“We leave in just under two hours,” he goes on. “Which means you have just under two hours to choose your comforts—anything you decide not to bring, you’re free to store in my office. I’ll lock it up whilewe’re gone.” His expression softens. “We’ll be covering a lot of ground each day. Best to bring only the essentials so you don’t, like…”
“Crumple up in a pile of exhaustion and pain, grinding our progress to a halt?” I supply.
Thorn grins. “Something like that, yeah.”
He picks my pack up again, then leads me down the hall and into a glorified mop closet. There’s a laptop open on a tray table in the corner.
“Thisis your office?”
He shrugs. “Don’t need much space when I spend most of my time outside. Let me know if you want any help?”
I don’t want Thorn knowing the extent of every single not-strictly-practical thing I’ve brought, so I opt to sort things out on my own. There are a few employee lockers in here, so I pick an empty one and start narrowing down the contents of my bag yet again. Abby would be proud: I manage to eliminate a few of the things she questioned yesterday—a neck pillow, my backup jar of peanut butter, and my full-sized bottle of Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb since I somehow also managed to bring a travel-sized one—along with the book I just finished and one of the disposable cameras.
I toss one pair of silk pajamas in, too—I’m trying to decide if I really need all three sets that I packed—when I hear a buzzing sound coming from over near Thorn’s laptop. The sound intensifies, then culminates in a loud crash before continuing to buzz.
On the floor, facedown, is a smartphone. Fortunately, it’s protected by a heavy-duty yellow case that looks like it could withstand demolition of any sort, maybe even a war zone.
I pick it up and poke my head out of the mop closet.
“Thorn?” I call out when I don’t see him.
I make my way back to the main room, where I hear a muffled sound coming from the gigantic faux sequoia display built into the back wall; there’s an opening where people can actually go inside to explore. I peekinto the shadows—and see a very shirtless Thorn. There’s just enough light to highlight every cut and curve of his perfect stomach.
“Um—hi,” I say eloquently, and he whips around.
I wish the light were better in here so I could say for sure that he’s blushing; I’m almost positive that he is.
He holds up two shirts, one in each hand.
“Had to change,” he says, as if that explains why he’s shirtless inside a fake tree.
“You make a habit out of changing…in here?”
He laughs. “Usually I change in the mop closet, but it was just a little bit occupied.”
“So your next thought was this,” I tease. “Not the restroom?”
“Didn’t expect anyone to come in during the thirty seconds I was half naked, but apparently I can check that off my bingo card for this summer.”
The wordshalf nakedhang between us, especially since he still hasn’t put his shirt on. He seems to realize this at the exact moment I do, and tugs on another Jeff Probst shirt that looks identical to the last—just navy blue instead of black.
“You missed a call,” I say, holding out his phone.
He takes it, his jaw tensing as he glances at the screen. Intense, brooding Thorn is somehow even more attractive than laid-back Thorn.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“It’s my boss,” he says. “I should probably call her back.”
