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Page 25 of Falling for Him (Honey Leaf Lodge #3)

Fifi

If anyone asked, I was completely calm.

Totally in control.

Not at all spiraling about the fact that Clarabelle was deader than a possum on asphalt, and I had just stranded a paying guest in the woods.

Nope. Not even a little.

“Roasting stick acquired,” I announced, snapping a decent-sized branch and stripping the bark with the edge of the cooler lid. “Now we turn our gourmet meal into flame-kissed perfection.”

The fire pit was a circle of rocks and whatever dry twigs I could scavenge while pretending not to panic.

But still. It looked like a fire pit now, especially with the crackling orange flames dancing in the middle and Ben crouching near it like we knew what we were doing in the woods.

The truth was that this would be right up Sienna’s alley, but I was not my sister.

I preferred taking advantage of Honey Leaf Lodge’s amenities like toilets and showers… stoves…heat.

He glanced over his shoulder, amused. “So this was all part of the plan?”

I grinned as I slid the cooler toward me and pulled out two hot dogs in plastic wrap. “Obviously. I always plan ahead for seduction-and-s’mores emergencies.”

He sat back on his heels, arms resting on his knees. “You keep saying that like I’m supposed to believe you didn’t plan this whole thing.”

“Oh, I planned this,” I said, stabbing a hot dog onto the stick with flair. “I planned to get my truck marooned in a place with no reception, a shirtless guest, and a backpack full of snacks and regret.”

Ben chuckled and took the stick I offered. “You forgot the part where you offer to spoon in the world’s tiniest truck bed.”

Heat shot straight to my cheeks. “I said it could be done. I didn’t say I was ready for the logistics discussion.”

He smirked, lips twitching as he stuck his hot dog into the fire. “Seems like a design flaw.”

“You would notice that.”

We sat in the warm glow of the fire, our knees just brushing, the scent of burning pine and sizzling hot dogs making the moment feel absurdly… cozy.

And somehow, still wildly electric.

I stole a glance at him as he rotated his stick. His face was lit by the firelight, brow slightly furrowed, but his shoulders looser than I’d seen them in days. He looked relaxed and almost content.

And I wasn’t going to lie. It felt good knowing I might’ve had something to do with that.

Of course, it also meant I had to ignore the little voice in my head whispering things like, This is temporary, and don’t fall for someone who’s checking out in a week.

I was great at ignoring voices.

Most of the time.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “I know it probably looks like I masterminded a charming hostage situation, but I swear to you, my starter has been fine since April.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “You’re really worried that I think this is all part of some elaborate plot, huh?”

“Yes! Because that’s how it looks. ”

He didn’t respond right away. Just lifted his hot dog from the fire, inspected the blackened side, and took a slow bite.

My stomach flipped watching him chew.

“You’re not that subtle,” he said finally, around a mouthful. “If this were a plan, it would’ve involved checklists and you accidentally calling me target acquired at least once.”

“I’d never!

He raised a brow.

“Okay,” I amended, “I might .”

“But you didn’t.”

“Nope. The truth is… we’re stuck out here. And the last thing I need is you giving the lodge a one-star review because the innkeeper lured you into the woods and left you for d-e-a-d.”

Ben swallowed and laughed. “I don’t think you get a star rating if the guest never makes it back.”

I groaned, leaning back onto my elbows in the grass. “Please don’t haunt the lodge. My mom would never stop talking about it.”

“She already doesn’t stop talking about me.”

“That’s because you look like the poster child for a lumberjack dating calendar.”

Ben’s expression shifted like he was trying not to smile and losing.

“Florida lumberjack,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I work in a law firm.”

“A very lucky law firm, and I can’t help where you’re from,” I said innocently, grinning at the fire. “I only see what’s in front of me.”

His eyes flicked to mine.

For one second, it felt like everything stopped…the wind, the trees, and my pulse. It was just us, the glow between us, and the unbearable softness of the look on his face.

But then he looked away again, poking the fire with his stick, and the moment passed.

Still, something lingered.

“I’m not mad about being stuck here,” he said quietly, surprising me.

“No?”

He shook his head. “Not when it’s like this.”

I smiled, trying not to let my heart go completely off the rails. “We’ll hike out in the morning. Try to find a little cell service or wave down a ranger. Or a really friendly moose with a satellite phone.”

He laughed again, really laughed, and it sent a thrill through me.

The truth was, I didn’t want this to be a disaster.

I wanted it to be something he remembered as good. Something that made him forget, even for a little while, whatever it was that kept pulling him into silence.

And maybe, just maybe… something that helped him stay a little longer.

I stretched out across the grass, my stomach full of slightly charred hot dog and nerves I was pretending didn’t exist.

Ben sat beside me, barefoot, firelight flickering over the curve of his jaw as he stabbed at the last of our marshmallows like he was preparing for a duel.

“I can’t believe you’re still roasting marshmallows like it’s a competitive sport,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow.

He glanced at me with mock seriousness. “You think this is a game?”

“Sir, you’re burning them on purpose.”

“Char equals flavor,” he said, popping a blackened marshmallow into his mouth like a man with something to prove.

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re not invited back to s’mores night at the lodge.”

“You can’t uninvite me from an event I wasn’t invited to yet.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I definitely do.”

I grinned, pushing up to my feet and brushing off grass. “Okay, master of fire, I’m going to change into a bra that doesn’t smell like I was hunted by a beaver.”

He leaned back on his hands. “Show-off.”

“What?”

“You brought a change of clothes.” He ran his hand over his bare chest and shook his head. “Seems odd.”

I lifted my chin. “It’s called preparedness, Florida.”

“It’s called sabotage.”

“Don’t be jealous of my survival instincts.”

I grabbed my bag, ducked behind a tree, and quickly swapped into leggings and a long-sleeved lodge tee I’d shoved into the bottom of my backpack.

Who needed a bra for bedtime? I even found fuzzy socks.

Fuzzy socks! It was as if my past self knew I might get stranded with a dangerously attractive man and need to feel cozy while losing my mind.

When I came back, Ben was standing by the truck bed, looking up at the stars like they owed him answers.

I tried not to notice how good he looked without his shirt.

“Well,” I said, dropping my bag with a little bounce. “Shall we make the world’s smallest campsite?”

He looked down at me and smirked. “Still going for the truck bed?”

“I mean… unless you’re afraid of spooning.”

His eyes darkened, but he said nothing, just turned to unlatch the tailgate and haul it down with one smooth movement. He grabbed both sleeping bags and tossed them into the back with casual precision.

“Just saying,” he murmured, “you brought extra clothes and sleeping bags and a perfectly portioned cooler.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If I planned to get stranded with a man, it would’ve been someone easier to resist.”

That made him laugh, and it sent a wild little thrill through me.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand.

I stepped up onto the bumper and tried to hoist myself into the truck bed. But my foot slipped, and I flailed like a newly hatched duckling.

Ben caught me with both hands on my waist and steadied me like it was nothing, except when he looked at me, it wasn’t like I was nothing at all.

His hands stayed on my hips for a second longer than they needed to, and then he cleared his throat and helped me into place, climbing in after and stretching out beside me in the shared space, both of us zipped into separate sleeping bags but not separate enough.

The air was cooling fast, and the night sounds started up, with crickets, distant rustles, a frog or two staking their territory. It was peaceful and quiet, with the stillness you only get miles from anything loud or sharp.

But the second Ben’s arm brushed mine, I shivered.

He noticed immediately.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re shaking.”

“It’s just the night air.”

He gave me a look in the darkness, like he wasn’t buying it.

And okay, fine, maybe I was part chilled and part… unraveling. He was right there. Warm. Solid. Smelling like pine and wood smoke. My brain was doing that thing where it ping-ponged between kissing him again and not ruining this with feelings.

He shifted slightly, pulling the edge of his sleeping bag closer to me. “Come here.”

My breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, and we already agreed this space is tiny. Might as well share the warmth.”

I hesitated for a millisecond too long.

And then I moved because how could I not?

I inched closer until his body heat reached me, until our sides were pressed together, and I could feel his breath against my temple.

This wasn’t the night I expected, but it might be the night I would never forget.

It started when my chin smacked his shoulder.

A solid, embarrassing bonk that made my teeth click and his shoulder jolt.

“Oh my God—sorry!” I whispered, mortified, reaching up to touch the sore spot. “I didn’t mean to…”

Ben shifted quickly, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

He dipped his head, and the concern in his eyes stole my breath.

That was my first mistake, looking at him up close like that.

Because the second mistake was moving, just a little, and landing half in his arms.