Page 33

His hands are still on my waist, and mine have drifted to the collar of his shirt, fingers resting against the heat of his neck.

“I meant what I said,” I add. “Let me help you.”

He tilts his head, kisses the corner of my mouth—softer this time, more promise than passion.

“You already are,” he says.

We stand there a moment longer, wrapped in the sounds of birdsong and breeze, the world holding its breath around us.

Then I grin. “I should go. We’ve got a rogue goblin trying to repaint the archery signs in glitter.”

He smirks. “Again?”

“Yep. This time with unicorn decals.”

He groans, but his eyes are softer now.

I step back, but I don’t go far. “Come find me later?”

His gaze darkens just a bit, voice low and rough. “I will.”

I start to turn, then pause, glance back.

“Maybe this time,” I say, teasing, “you can come with an actual plan.”

His reply is a growl and a look that leaves no room for confusion.

Let’s just say the rest of my day?

I’m not gonna get much done with that look echoing through me.

CHAPTER 14

TORACK

The screen door slams behind me with a twang of spring metal. Pine resin and citronella candles cling to the humid air of Julie’s cabin. She’s perched on the edge of her desk, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm against the permits for tomorrow’s bonfire. Her blouse wrinkles where she’s been twisting the fabric.

“Lillian’s bunking with the CITs tonight.” I lean against the doorframe, watching her jump at the sound of gravel in my voice.

Her pen clatters. “The—the junior counselors? But the orientation packet says trainees need three more certifications before?—”

“Relax, Miss Spreadsheet. They’re teaching her campfire songs, not performing open-heart surgery.”

A moth batters itself against the desk lamp as she stands, smoothing her skirt. “I should’ve been informed. The liability waivers alone require?—”

“You’re off-duty.” I step closer, catching the way her pulse jumps in that delicate human throat. Her scent cuts through the woodsmoke—vanilla hand cream and ambition. “Unless you’d rather discuss insurance premiums.”

She huffs, but it’s undercut by the flush creeping up her neck. “This is why your last three assistants quit.”

“They quit because I don’t pay them to mother me.” My thumb brushes a stray curl behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away. “You’re different.”

“Different how?” Her voice cracks. “Because I let you drag me into the woods to build your daughter’s monument to corporate diversity?”

“Because you haven’t run.”

The permit papers flutter to the floor. Her hands find my shoulders, small and fierce as she rises onto toes. Our first kiss tastes like coffee and poor decisions. She nips my lower lip, all teeth no apology, and suddenly I’m backing her against the wall. Her laugh vibrates against my chest.

“This is?—”