Page 63 of Flirting with 40

“So, it was on purpose, then?” I ask again because he hasn’t given me an answer one way or another. Instead, he gives me that adorable shrug and casual lift of his hands. “You’re maddening.”

“I know.” He grins. “And you love it.”

I stand in the tiny cabin with my hands on my hips and know he’s right—I do. He’s the reason this stupid retreat has pulled so much laughter from me. He’s the reason I’ve forgotten about bears and mosquitos and whatever else lurks beyond those trees and have actually enjoyed myself some.

“I’ll get you back somehow.”

“I count on it.”

“Go take your shower.” I wave my hand at him.

“Hey, Blakely?”

I look over my shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for wearing that suit.” He gives me a wink and doesn’t say another word before jogging down the steps of the cabin with his towel over his shoulder and his clean clothes tucked under his arm.

I don’t know how long I stare after him, but I’m sure I have a goofy smile on my face that needs to be reined in somehow. But how? Why? Isn’t this what letting go of my past is supposed to feel like? Isn’t this what enjoying the now is supposed to be like?

Why does him thanking me for wearing a suit make me feel so good when I should have worn it to begin with?

Before I can think too much about this onslaught of feelings . . . this lust that seems so very real when there is no possible way it can be in this short amount of time, my phone alerts a text.

I laugh when I look at it, surprised at her restraint in texting instead of calling.

Kelsie: Dare I ask if you’re regretting that decision to shave yet?

Me: I shaved before I left.

Kelsie: I guess the only other question left is, has anyone seen your handiwork?

I stare at the text, and a part of me wants to toy with her while the other part of me is dying for her to know how everything is going.

Me: The outdoors doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Laughing, I toss my phone onto the bed just as the perfect way to get Slade back hits me.

I need to act fast to make it work.

The next few minutes are spent with adrenaline coursing through my veins while I bite back the laughter that seems to be flowing freely today.

Then I wait.

It’s probably another five minutes before I hear my name being hollered from the communal shower.

“Are you sure that’s how you want to play, Blakely?” he warns playfully. “No skin off my back.”

I’m sitting on the steps of the porch with his clothes and towel dangling from my fingertips and the grin to beat all grins on my lips.

“Did you forget something?” I call out to him as he exits the shower with nothing but his birthday suit on.

This was supposed to be a trick on him, but I didn’t realize it was going to be one on me too. How am I supposed to watch him close this distance in all his gorgeous splendor? His hair is wet, water drips off his chest, his cock bounces off his thigh with each stride, and a devious desire sparks in his eyes.

“Didn’t forget a thing,” he says and then whistles as if he walks naked every day across a camp. “Good thing I still had my shower shoes on though.”

“Good thing.”

“Or it might have been a prick-ly walk back.”