“At least we don’t have drunk, disorderly neighbors tonight.”
“There’s always that.”
Grace started on the granola bar, her stomach rumbling gratefully. She chewed each bite carefully, hoping her hunger would be satisfied with the meager fare.
“Will your family be worried when you don’t turn up?”
She wasn’t about to admit that her sister would be frantic by now. Wyatt was only starting to view her as an adult. “They know I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you out here. You could be warm and cozy in your bed right now.”
“I offered, and I guess neither of us can claim responsibility for the flooded bridge—act of nature. I’m going to consider this a learning opportunity for future treks.”
He gave her a long, steady look, his eyes dark as coal in the meager firelight. “And what is it you’re learning exactly?”
“Pack extra coffee.” Though she was thinking, No more trips with handsome single guys whose eyes say one thing and actions say another.
“And more water,” he added.
“Dry clothes.”
“More food,” they said at the same time, then shared a smile.
The fire crackled and snapped, burning brighter, casting shadows over his beautiful face, emphasizing his angular features and deep-set eyes. Really, did a man need eyelashes that long?
“At least we have plenty of bug repellent,” he said.
“True.” She’d applied some as soon as they reached the shelter. Not sexy but necessary.
They finished the food all too soon, stuffing the trash into the bag they’d brought along, then they dragged the table closer to the fireplace.
Grace sat down and propped her feet on the stone hearth. A breeze cut through the open space, and she zipped her jacket to preserve warmth. Wyatt added a few more branches, then settled a couple of feet down the bench.
Her thoughts turned back to Molly, and she sent her sister a silent apology. At least she didn’t know about last night’s debacle. Grace remembered the man’s iron grip on her arm and the helplessness that had risen in her. Feelings that took her back to that long-ago day when her heart thumped so hard she thought it’d beat right out of her chest.
She shivered.
Wyatt leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees. “Want your sleeping bag?”
She held her hands out to the fire as though temperature had been the cause of the shudder. “No, it’s not that cold. The fire feels good.”
Silence settled around them, punctuated only by the crackling fire. It was way too early to turn in. Though her muscles were fatigued, she wasn’t the least bit sleepy. And something about Wyatt’s presence made energy hum through her veins. It screamed danger, but she knew now he wasn’t a danger to her physical well-being. Her mental well-being was another story, however.
An alpha male, Molly had called him. Grace knew what that meant in a general sense. But the men she’d had in her life—her dad, her brother, Adam—weren’t so assertive and confident. At least she didn’t see them that way. Wyatt didn’t seem to need anybody.
She glanced over her shoulder at the concrete floor where they would bed down tonight. They wouldn’t even have the thin walls of the tents between them. Would she lie awake half the night in her sleeping bag, buzzing with this energy of awareness?
And what would they do until bedtime? She’d learned a lot about Wyatt last night, but there were other key things he hadn’t revealed. He wouldn’t give them up easily though.
Grace gave him a sideways glance. “Are you up for another game, like last night?”
“We should’ve brought cards.” He leaned back against the tabletop, propping his elbows on it. His hand dangled mere inches from her arm. “I think I’m all out of profound revelations.”
She lifted a shoulder. “We can change it up. How about direct questions this time? We can take turns.”
He studied the fire, that enigmatic expression back in place. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on. It’s only eight thirty, and we have a long night ahead. What else are we going to do?”
The question was out before she’d thought it through. She was thinking it through now though. At least a dozen possibilities flashed in her brain, all of them sounding better than the game she’d suggested.
Her cheeks flared with heat.
He turned toward her just a bit, not enough to make eye contact but enough to signal he was having the same thoughts.
She barreled on. “They—they don’t have to be anything personal. Just like, you know, things an aunt might ask you