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“Isn’t bringing a woman to your hunting camp usually frowned upon?”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because, in my mind, I picture a bunch of men sitting around, drinking beer, cleaning guns, and being manly.”

He stands and takes our plates to the sink then comes back, lifting me off of the barstool and setting me on the counter. His hips slide between my knees, and he scoots me until we’re pressed together.

“You’re partly right. When we’re not hunting, we do sit around, drink beer, and clean guns. The acting manly part is questionable. We also play corn-hole, watch sports, talk shit, and eat like kings. My dad usually hunts at least one morning. Then he and Mom come out for dinner. Depending on the weekend, a few of the guys set up their campers, and we have a full crowd.”

“It sounds like fun,” I tell him genuinely. All my life, I’ve assumed a weekend at a hunting camp would be tortuous. Being in nature is not my forte, unless you count the beach. That’s my kind of outdoor activity.

“We take our hunting seriously, but the rest is fun. And I think you and I will have lots of fun.”

I can’t miss the insinuation in his tone.

“I’m not really an outdoorsy person. I should go ahead and warn you.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Suddenly, I want nothing more than to run away and spend the weekend in his cabin. The trepidation from earlier disappears, and I throw my arms around his shoulders, bouncing in place. “When can we go?”

He smiles wide, leaning in to run his lips over mine. “As soon as all this shit is handled, we’re going.”

“Okay, do you think you can hurry this shit up?”

He chuckles, squeezing my hips and backing up a few inches. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about. I’m going to be working Friday and Saturday night.”

“I figured, you already mentioned it.”

“Are you upset?”

“I’m not upset. Disappointed maybe, but I understand.” I try to reassure him. “I’ve already made plans with Maren for Saturday. We’re going to Rachel’s spa during the day. She’s setting us up with VIP treatment. Then we’ll probably do a girls’ night in. Watch movies, drink loads of wine, talk about you… the norm.”

His eyes grow warm, and I feel a tinge of guilt. It’s not exactly a lie; we will do all of those things, but we’ll also be working on Trixsters Anonymous. If we can’t find anything on the Serial Online Scammer, I have a feeling we’ll be setting up Maren an online dating profile.

“Friday night, it makes sense to stay here then. Saturday, I’ll come to you when I’m done.”

“You don’t have to. I know you’ll be tired.”

His head jerks, and I know I’ve said something wrong. “Thought we buried this shit Monday night, Emi.”

“No, you misunderstand. I’m not mad or trying to be difficult. But I know you like your bed. It’s bigger and more comfortable. You can come home and get to sleep, and I’ll come over when I wake up.”

“You’re wrong. I like any bed that has you in it, whether it’s yours or mine. You choose, but seeing as you plan on drinking heavily, I assume we’ll be in yours.”

My heart melts. “I really suck at this.”

“What?”

“This being in love stuff. Maybe I should take lessons so I don’t keep screwing up.”

The irritation on his face dies, and he slides his hands from my hips to my butt, squeezing firmly. “You’re doing perfect.”

“See! You’re even good at this relationship and love stuff. I knew there’s nothing you’re not good at.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.” He starts to kiss a path along my jawline until he reaches my ear. “I’ll make it easy on you and give you one thing. About six weeks ago, I became completely enamored with a firestorm that makes me want to lose all reason. Just so you know, I love that you worry about me, but in the future, never suggest that we sleep separately.” His tongue grazes the outside of my earlobe, and goosebumps pop up all over my skin. I tighten my hold on his shoulders, feeling my heartbeat start to speed up.

“Never again,” I promise, slanting my head so my mouth reaches his.