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“What if I actually go to jail?” I suddenly cried out to no one.

“You’re not going to jail, Goldie,” Cassidy’s voice answered.

Jumping in my seat, I spun around and chucked the stick I was holding in the general vicinity of his voice before I could stop myself. Emerging from the trees behind me, he grunted, doubling forward as the broad side smacked into his stomach.

“Ow,” he harshly stated, lifting his tawny gaze to mine. “What was that for?”

“I—You—Don’t sneak up on people,” I grumbled.

His eyes sparkled as he stood upright and dusted off his damp shirt. “Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head lightly and walked my way. “How’s the fish doing?”

“I have no idea, I’ve never cooked fish on a fire before,” I responded, and he grinned wider. My body roared warm, watching each powerful yet casual step of his draw him nearer to me. His jeans hugged his legs, fitting just right around a frame that was made with extra care. Each inch that closed between us heightened the boiling in my belly. The ache that spread low in my core for someone who was completely off limits, heightened even more.

“And I don’t like you, so I’m fine if it burns,” I spat, not as harshly as I had hoped. I definitely didn’t not like him…

He chuckled as he walked around the edge of the log and plopped himself down closely beside me. Tipping his head in my direction, he raised that snarky brow. “You’ll burn your dinner, too, Goldie.” And he winked.

Why did he have to do that? The flames that flickered in front of me were no longer a match for the ones that roared beneath my skin.

“I threw the stick at you that I was using to flip the fish,” I grumbled.

He slowly leaned back and glanced up at the stars above us. Crossing one ankle over the other, he smiled gently. “Well, better go get it then.”

“Excuse me?” I gasped, shocked that he wouldn’t offer.

“Why in the Alabama Betty Crocker would you think I’d go get the weapon you assaulted me with?”

“I didn’t assault you! You snuck up on me. Besides, how was I supposed to know it was you and not one of those illegal hunters or whatever?”

“Did it sound like me?”

“Well, yes,” I sheepishly admitted.

“And you think that one of those trespassers sounds exactly like me?” he asked.

“Well, no.”

“Then why in the world did you think it wasn’t me?”

I threw my hands in the air. “I—Well, there were—You walk—“

“I’m teasing, Goldie. Just wait here, and I’ll be back with the stick,” he answered and stood up. My heart hammered in my chest, both from how easy talking to him came and how exciting it was. Why did he have to be so annoyingly perfect and amazing? Okay, so maybe hating him for being perfect was the lie and I hated… UGH! Why couldn’t I just let it go and accept him for him? Why was I still trying to push him away?

“I was joking too!” I called over my shoulder.

“In what way?” he shouted. I glanced back at him as he bent down and snatched the stick from the ground.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh?”

“But I still don’t like you,” I quickly added.

His deep chuckle floated around our small campground like a gentle storm bringing in much-needed moisture. “I can live with that.”

I tracked him as he swung the stick around like a sword while meandering back over to the fire. “You can live with me not liking you?” I asked as he sat down beside me and prodded the coals with the stick.

“Yes,” he answered, raising a mischievous brow in my direction.