Page 45 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

Eight months later.

I have no idea why the fuck I agreed to go on this camping trip.

Oh, right.

Because Robin asked me to, and I give him literally anything he wants.

I never thought I’d be wrapped this tightly around anybody’s finger, but here we are.

I guess it’s not that bad, though. The buzz in my head from the beer feels nice, a hell of a lot nicer than it used to. The warmth from the fire seeps into my bones, the crackling of the flames harmonizing with the songs of cicadas, creating background music against the calm, early summer night.

Apparently, John’s wife is out of town for a girl’s trip, so Robin suggested a guy’s weekend.

We’re all sitting around the fire at one of the campsites at the back of the park.

John, Brian, and Spencer are in the middle of a conversation about some of the summer events.

I’m half-heartedly listening when they mention something about ranger-led hikes.

As much as I hate the idea, I’m too distracted by the smile lighting up Robin’s entire being.

The glow of the fire softens some of the sharp planes of his face, throwing flickers of gold across his cheekbones and catching in the green of his eyes.

He leans back in his chair, beer dangling from his relaxed hand, his attention on Will who’s telling him about the woman he met in town a couple of weeks ago.

I’m not even paying attention to a word Brian says, my focus pulled fully into Robin’s gravity, like the fire’s orbit doesn’t end at the ring of stones around it, but at him.

Will says something, and laughter spills out of him like it costs nothing.

I hope I get to keep seeing Robin happy for the rest of my life.

When he lifts his beer for a drink, his gaze leaves his cousin and finds me. He pauses with the bottle near his lips and smiles even brighter. Everyone else’s presence fades to the background until they’ve practically disappeared, which is what I’d prefer.

I’m still not great with people. I don’t think I ever will be.

But when Robin looks back at Will, I let my eyes close, and Ivy’s old cabin flashes in my mind like a reminder.

I’d rather be here than back there.

The next time I open my eyes, the other guys are back, and I don’t mind it so much.

And then John opens his mouth.

“Can’t wait to hear how Henry’s hike goes. Bet he scares all the tourists until they go running back to the parking lot.”

“Perfect,” I deadpan. “Hike finished in record time.”

“Talk about damage control,” Brian mutters, hiding a grin behind his drink.

Robin and Will’s conversation dies, and their attention drifts to the rest of us, already looking as amused as the others.

“Could I pay for a solo hike?” Robin asks, his eyes on me, one brow arched. “Following you around and getting to stare at your ass all day would be worth the money.”

Everyone around us erupts into laughter while our gazes remain locked, and I don’t even try to stop the spread of the grin that slowly stretches my lips.

Still laughing, Brian stands and tosses his empty bottle into the garbage bag at the edge of our circle. “And that’s my cue to call it a night.”

“Wait for me,” Spencer says as he shoots up out of his chair.

He didn’t even need to say it because Brian was already waiting. Hands linked, they walk off toward their tent.

Normally, I might roll my eyes at how clingy they both are.

Ever since they got engaged last month, they’ve been even more so, especially Spencer.

However, after I started noticing how down Spencer would get every time Brian had to go out of town to work a few days at another park, I began seeing a bit of myself in him.

Of course, ever since that first day I invited him over to our place, Robin has been the one to do it even more often, usually asking me first.

Since I’m incapable of saying no to him, we end up having company more often than I care for.

If I could, I’d whisk Robin away where no one could ever find us. I’d never feel alone as long as I have him. But then he’d be unhappy, and…maybe I don’t mind the company.

Not that I have friends or anything.

Ivy might argue. Of course, she still refuses to tell me any details about how the king recognized her.

She hinted that he was one of those people she mentioned last getting attached to decades ago.

I suspect she did something for him that required her to find loopholes like she did for us, so I’ll probably never get it out of her.

But…dammit, I look forward to her visits. As much as I hate to admit it.

Maybe I have one friend.

John starts kicking dirt toward the fire. “I guess we have to put this out, huh, Ranger?”

I roll my eyes. It’s a calm night, so I’m not too worried about it. However, I guess I should be a good role model and follow the rules of the park I’m a literal ranger for.

Sometimes I forget I’m actually supposed to be a ranger.

“You grabbed the flashlight, right?” Robin asks me as he stands and throws away his empty beer bottle.

“Oh, shit. I must’ve left it in the truck.”

Totally not on purpose…

Leaning over a bit, I reach into my pocket and pull out my keys, holding them up for him. “Do you want to go get it?”

His eyes narrow on me, full of suspicion, highlighted by the light of the flames that flicker against the earth being kicked over them, smothering the heat.

“Sure,” he says, the word drawn out as he takes the keys from me.

His suspicious glare lingers on me a moment longer before he finally turns and walks away from the campsite, his steps crunching over leaves and twigs, the sound fading the farther he gets.

“You’re really going to let him walk through the woods alone at night?” John asks.

“Why not? He’s a grown man.”

“Because you’re an overprotective asshole.”

“And possessive,” Will chimes in. “Jealous. Obsessive.”

Grinning, I rise to my feet. “I suppose you have a point, Will.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes as I round my chair and march away from the campsite in the direction Robin went.

One day while Will was recovering from that arrow, I went out to the ranch to visit Robin before he moved in with me. Will thanked me for helping to save his life. I was honest and told him I did it for Robin, not for him. He insisted he was grateful anyway.

Since then, we’ve been mostly civil.

More like I put up with him for Robin’s sake.

I move quickly through the trees before slowing my steps, keeping them as light as possible when I sense I’m catching up with him. The fire’s glow eventually dies behind me, swallowed by the trees and their shadows. Robin’s footfalls move steadily ahead, unhurried and unguarded.

When I drag my boot over the earth with purpose, a branch snaps beneath me. Robin’s pace falters. I can make out the faint turn of his head as he scans the darkness. Then he keeps walking.

Another snap, louder this time. He stops dead.

“Great,” he mutters. “Going to get eaten alive out here by some wild animal.”

Oh, I’m definitely going to eat him alive.

I melt into the shadows, circling him, careful to stay just out of reach.

His steps start again, quicker this time, leaves crunching as he continues down the trail toward the truck.

I match his pace, moving when he moves, stopping when he stops.

Every sound I make is deliberate—the rustling of underbrush, the scuff of my boot, the low snap of another twig.

His breathing sharpens, and he breaks into a jog. If he knows it’s me who’s following him, he plays along.

I allow him to go ahead, letting him think he’s gaining ground. Then I cut wide, slipping silently through the trees until I’m on his flank. When he slows, uncertain, I drag my nails down the bark of a tree. The rasp echoes through the quiet night like claws.

Stopping again, he stiffens, chest heaving.

“Not funny,” he calls out, voice carrying just enough to cover his nerves.

A low growl rolls through my chest.

He bolts, sprinting now, his breath ragged. The sound of him crashing through the woods grows louder. I stalk him in silence a few seconds longer, then rush forward, leaves whipping and snapping at his back. He curses, nearly tripping, and veers hard to the left.

I dart ahead, cutting across his path to beat him to the end of the trail. He barrels into the clearing and skids to a stop, his head sweeping back and forth as he peers into the darkness.

Then I’m right behind him.

Arms snaking around his waist, I crush him against my chest, my cock already hard from the chase. He gasps, a sharp sound that rips through the night, and his whole body locks tight against mine.

“Caught you, little thief,” I whisper roughly in his ear.

They’re my favorite words.

He thrashes wildly, but I don’t let go. The heat of him presses into me, his pulse pounding against my grip. He smells like smoke and sweat, like adrenaline and something sharper— want .

But he fights me anyway because it heightens the thrill before he gives in.

The moment I grind my erection against his ass, he goes still. Groaning, he hits that moment of inevitability and pushes his ass back.

We’re not far from the truck, so I haul him over while he continues squirming in my hold, partly from half-heartedly trying to get away, mostly from rubbing his ass against my clothed cock.

“Don’t worry, Robin. I’ll give you what you need.”

Reaching out, I open the tailgate and let it drop down. He stops writhing when he sees that the floor of the bed is covered with a layer of memory foam and several blankets.

Peering at me over his shoulder, he asks breathlessly, “When did you do this?”

“When I came back for the cooler and accidentally left the flashlight.”

He lets out a short laugh, the end of it cut short and turning into a gasp as I smack him hard on the ass.

“Now get up there.”

He grins and hops up. I follow after him, but he grabs onto my arm and pulls me forward until I crash down on the makeshift bed with a grunt. He throws his leg over me and straddles my back.