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“You’ve never been camping?”
“Well, yes. But we drive in. There’s an electrical hookup and running water. We bring a cooler of food and we plug in the griddle and cook on it.”
He looked amused. “That’s not really camping. That’s hanging out outside.”
“Oh, I forgot. You’re a camping purist.” I smiled weakly, my head throbbing. I closed my eyes as a mild wave of nausea rippled through me, and I let out a breath through my nose.
“You’ll feel better in a few hours,” Jason said behind the spinning darkness of my eyelids.
“So, what else do you cook?” I asked, picking up my bag of oatmeal again.
“Grilling and boiling water for dehydrated food are about all that’s in my wheelhouse.”
“Oh. Well, if you can boil water, you can make coffee.”
“I make amazing coffee,” he said. “I use a French press.”
“Oooh, now you’re speaking my love language. Say ‘French press’ again,” I mumbled.
He leaned over and put his lips next to my ear. “French presssss,” he whispered.
I gave him serious side-eye. If this hangover didn’t kill me, his shameless flirting was going to finish the job.
“Hey, thank you,” I said, after a minute.
He smiled at me. “For what?”
“For coming. For taking care of me. For not letting…” I looked around the room at the mess. “For not letting this change things.”
He didn’t look at the clothes. His eyes never left mine. “Well, we have a date today. I waited all day yesterday for it. No way was anything going to stop me from seeing that through.”
“Jason, I can’t go anywhere today. I feel like crap.”
“No, the date’s here. We’re on it now. ID channel and chill.”
I laughed, and the sore muscles in my stomach reminded me I’d spent the night barfing.
Jason picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
God, he was wonderful.
* * *
Four hours into ID channel and chill and he’d only held my hand. Besides those quick kisses in the bathtub, he hadn’t tried to make a move on me. I don’t know if this was due to my hangover or the overactive flight instincts I’d shown him on the night of our first kiss, but he kept a safe distance. I think he knew that if he pounced me, I’d probably make him leave. He was right. And oddly, his reserved behavior just made me more comfortable, and it kind of made me want to pounce him.
I wondered if that was a strategy…
My hangover felt a million times better. I sat with my legs crossed next to him on the sofa, and my knee just touched his thigh. It was such a small contact, but it had been sending bolts of electricity through me for the last hour.
Being with him in person felt just as natural and easy as it did on the phone—except with sexual tension.
It was like we couldn’t look at anything other than each other for more than a few minutes at a time. Our faces kept turning back to each other, and finally we just kind of gave up and ignored the show and talked instead. To his credit, he didn’t seem to care how I looked at the moment and he appeared to be perfectly happy just sitting there with me instead of on a date doing something more exciting.
His phone chirped, and he picked it up and frowned.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“I just have a lot of promoting to do. Ernie emailed my schedule for this week. I have to meet with my publicist tomorrow, and Ernie’s found me a personal assistant for my tour.”
