If “bad decision” had a photo next to it in the dictionary, it would be of Alex James.
What’s better than attending your ex’s wedding? A camping trip in the woods, complete with bugs, critters, and sharing a tent with the hottest—and most infuriating—man alive. It’s basically a full itinerary of terrible decisions…
George:
When I came home for the first time in years, I was expecting a peaceful week celebrating my ex’s upcoming nuptials, some quality time with my overly enthusiastic mom, and a much-needed break from the dumpster fire that my life has become. Instead, I’ve been tricked into sharing a...
If “bad decision” had a photo next to it in the dictionary, it would be of Alex James.
What’s better than attending your ex’s wedding? A camping trip in the woods, complete with bugs, critters, and sharing a tent with the hottest—and most infuriating—man alive. It’s basically a full itinerary of terrible decisions…
George:
When I came home for the first time in years, I was expecting a peaceful week celebrating my ex’s upcoming nuptials, some quality time with my overly enthusiastic mom, and a much-needed break from the dumpster fire that my life has become. Instead, I’ve been tricked into sharing a tent with Alex—the human equivalent of a smug smirk—who somehow manages to be both infuriating and alarmingly attractive. He pushes every button I have, knows exactly how to get under my skin, and worst of all… I think I want him to. Which is great, because nothing says “relaxing vacation” like emotional whiplash and unresolved sexual tension in a nylon sweatbox.
Alex:
I keep things casual. It’s easier that way. Safer than letting someone in and finding out—once again—that I’m not enough, or worse, that I’m too much. But George? He’s messing with my game plan. He’s uptight, prickly, and has made it painfully clear that he doesn’t like me. But there’s something in the way his eyes spark when we argue, something in his laugh and those quiet moments when we’re not at each other’s throats, that draws me in. The more time we spend together, the harder it is to ignore the pull between us. It terrifies me—because I want him, badly—but I can’t let him see the mess I’ve been hiding behind these walls. Not now. Not ever.
