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Paisley rolled up her jeans, kicked off her boots, and waded in.

Weston’s eyes bulged. “Are you some kind of crazy? The ice is barely off the lake.”

She arced a kick of water and hustled back to shore. “A person has to live in the moment. But, yeah, it’s cold.” She sat on a rock, brushed pebbles off her foot, rolled her sock back on then tugged up her boot. She started on the second foot and glanced up to catch him watching. Her eyebrows arched.

Yeah, she’d caught him. Again. Weston shook his head. “You’re nuts.”

“That’s what they say. Also, I’m hungry.”

“There’s a latrine over there if you need a moment first.” He pointed. “I’ll have to dig a second one, but it’s still a help.”

Paisley’s eyes brightened as she unrolled a picket line and tied Enchantment to it. “Be right back!”

Weston gathered a few sticks for a fire then rummaged in Enchantment’s saddle bags and hauled out the cooler bag. He’d grabbed a sandwich from the kitchen himself, but Paisley had come much better prepared. He’d happily consume his share of the contents. He might even thank her for it, but was that the same as thanking her for inviting herself on today’s expedition?

Would it kill him to admit he liked having her along?

It might.

Paisley rubbed her hands with disinfectant then turned to where Weston had laid out the contents of her cooler.

“What’s in the thermos?” He lifted it.

“Uncorrupted Earl Grey tea.”

He sent her a questioning look. “Uncorrupted?”

“Tea the way God intended. No sugar. No cream. Just black as sin.”

“Sin is corruption.”

It took her a moment before she burst out laughing. “Did you just crack a funny, cowboy? I’m impressed.”

That lopsided grin nearly hit both of his cheeks before flattening out. Progress.

“If you want some tea, I can share.”

Weston shuddered. “Coffee all the way over here. I brought a billy can.”

It was her turn to wonder what he meant. “Billy can?”

“For cowboy coffee. Who needs a thermos when they can brew up their own when they want?”

She settled on the pebbles and unscrewed the thermos’s lid. “Yet here I sit with my hot tea and don’t have to work for it right now.” She poured some into the cup that formed the lid and saluted him with it.

Weston had gathered a few twigs at some point. Now he added a handful of dry moss from the lower branches of a nearby tree and struck a match to it.

“Oh, a match! I thought you might rub two sticks together.”

He glowered at her but then bent to puff gently on the tiny flame. It quickly caught on the moss and then the twigs before flickering to ignite the slender sticks. Weston cracked a couple thicker pieces against his knee and fed them in as the fire grew.

“Impressive.” She munched a handful of trail mix as she leaned back against a nearby log.

Weston shot her a glare and held out his palm. “Can I have some?”

“May I?”

“Never mind.” He pulled his hand back.