Autumn Skies (Bluebell Inn Romance #3) - Denise Hunter Page 0,29

rose to his feet. “I’m going to turn in. We need to get an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I think I will too.” Grace stood, removed the jacket, and handed it back to him. “Good night.”

“Night, Grace.”

As Wyatt zipped his tent closed and settled in his sleeping bag, his heart was still beating out a wild rhythm.

Chapter Fifteen

Grace snapped awake at the sound of thunder. It was pitch black, and rain pattered the roof of her tent. She’d paid a mint for these waterproof tents, and it looked like they were going to be tested tonight.

She used her phone’s flashlight to check the seams. So far so good. There was no dampness on the floor either. She turned off the light and lay back in her bag.

She’d checked the weather before they left. The storm on the radar had been a substantial one, but it was supposed to have passed north of here. Obviously it hadn’t, and if the weather had otherwise stayed the same, they were in for a lot of rain tonight and tomorrow.

But if Wyatt decided to continue up into the mountains, they both had waterproof gear. It would be uncomfortable but doable.

Now that she was wide awake, her thoughts turned to earlier, by the campfire. To Wyatt’s revelations. She’d thought he might tell her what he was searching for out here in the mountains. But he had other interesting disclosures. She hardly knew which one to focus on first. They’d all surprised her. As had his responses to her own confessions.

Wyatt was an interesting man, and the more she learned about him, the more intriguing he became. Just remembering the way he’d looked at her made her heart rate speed and her palms go sweaty—like she was a heroine from one of Molly’s romance novels or something. Honestly, Grace had always dismissed the writings as fantasy. She’d dated plenty of boys, kissed a handful of them, and she never felt like that.

Like this.

The way Wyatt had stared at her in the firelight made her think he felt the same way. At one point she thought he might even kiss her. But he only turned away and poked at the fire. The letdown had been visceral. He probably thought she was too young for him. Or maybe he had a girlfriend back home. She felt a pinch in her chest at the thought.

She rolled over in her bag. If she wanted to have the energy to get through tomorrow, she needed some shut-eye.

Thunder sounded and lightning flashed, momentarily brightening her tent, and the rain picked up. Now if the tents could just make it through the night . . .

When Grace ducked outside the next day, Wyatt was already sitting by the fire, sipping a cup of coffee. It was just drizzling now, the leafy shelter overhead catching most of it.

“Good morning,” she said, her throat rusty.

“Morning.”

She cleared her throat. “Did your tent hold out?”

“Dry as a desert inside. Nice job picking the equipment. I woke up at one thirty to a downpour and never dreamed I’d make it to morning dry.”

“I wasn’t sure. They’re supposed to be waterproof, but they’ve never been put to the test.”

She felt a little self-conscious in broad daylight. Both from the revelations of the night before and from the state of her hair and face. She probably looked about fifteen.

She pulled up the hood of her jacket and took a seat across the fire. Wyatt brought her a mug of coffee, which, even though it was instant, smelled like liquid heaven.

“Thank you.” She took a sip.

Wyatt looked up at the gray abyss. “In light of the inclement weather, I guess we should head back.”

“Not necessarily. We have the proper gear. Our legs will get wet, but it’s just water. I’m game if you are.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not like any woman I’ve met before.”

It was the first time he’d called her a “woman” and not a “girl.” “Sounds like you’ve been hanging around the wrong women.”

He cocked a brow. “I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.”

It rained all day, a slow, steady drizzle that seeped into Grace’s jeans and dripped down her face. They had to cut their way through some of the trail, making for slow going. They stopped only for lunch and bathroom breaks.

As they climbed higher and walked farther, Wyatt’s face took on a disheartened look. She’d so hoped he’d find what he was searching for—whatever it was—and as the day wore on,

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