a Coleman lantern and a blue satchel as she followed the other two into the woods.
There, ringed by the magnificent spruce was a meadow as magical and unexpected as a fairytale. Jami gasped in pleasure at the dazzling carpet of wild flowers, threaded by a gurgling brook. Alongside the frosted blue-green needled evergreens stood a grove of delicate aspen, the slim, white-barked trunks topped by lacy branches of quivering silvery leaves. “It’s beautiful!”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Grant agreed, satisfaction written upon his face. He deposited the bags, then unfolded a tarp, spreading it over the ground in a patch of shade.
“Aren’t we bringing the rest of the stuff?” Toby asked, dropping his booty next to Grant’s.
“Certainly, but I thought I’d set up a place to stash everything first.” Grant appeared to be setting up a diminutive tepee-shaped tent on top of the tarp.
“Does somebody sleep in that?” Toby asked, eyeing the tiny tent skeptically.
“No. It’s an old pup tent. We can keep our gear and supplies inside it.” Grant’s gaze slid from Toby to Jami and back again. “Homer loaned us a three-man tent. With the three of us sleeping inside, that won’t leave room for all our camping paraphernalia.”
“The three of us?” Jami demanded, turning to Grant after depositing the lantern and satchel by the sleeping bags. “I’m not sharing a tent with you!”
“There were no other tents available.” Grant’s face hardened into chiseled granite as he glanced over at her. “So, you don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t I?” She pointed at the pup tent. “You can sleep in there.”
“No way.” Grant snapped the canvas flap back to open the tent door. “I’m sleeping in a modern dome tent with leg room and netting for air circulation.” He waved at Toby. “Want to grab some more stuff to haul back here, slugger?”
“Sure, Grant.” Toby skipped out of the clearing, oblivious to the friction between the adults.
Grant crossed to Jami, placing his hands on her shoulders and gazing intently at her. “You’re perfectly safe sharing a tent with me. Toby can place his bag in the middle between us.”
“I will not share a tent with you.” Jami pressed her lips together and glared back at Grant, pretending he didn’t affect her one bit.
“Then you can sleep in the pup tent.”
“Fine.” Jami glanced at the ancient, pint-size tent and swallowed hard. “No problem.”
“That’s what you think.” Grant strode over to the pup tent and motioned Jami forward. “Go on, check your sleeping quarters.”
She bent to stick her head inside, noting that the air within the interior of the tent was already warm and stuffy. The tent seams were thin and fraying, several stitches pulled and the side-end poles dented. Assailed by a sense of claustrophobia, Jami didn’t feel confident about the pup tent or its sturdiness as a shelter. Still, people had used the things for years.
“It’ll be fine,” she reiterated, popping out quickly to inhale the breeze-freshened mountain air.
“Right.” Grant’s lips curved up into a cocky grin, fine lines crinkling around his eyes as if he barely restrained his laughter. “You’ll be real comfortable.” He took the modern, compactly parceled dome tent out of Toby’s arms as the child screeched to a stop beside him. “Thanks, partner. Let’s pitch our tent.”
“You do that,” Jami retorted, tossing her tote bag inside the pup tent.
It seemed to Jami that Grant raised the bright turquoise and emerald geodesic dome tent within seconds. It had a zippered doorway, plus gray mesh areas for airflow and bug protection and its own flooring. She watched Grant show Toby all the conveniences and wondered if she’d made the wrong choice. Their tent was much more comfortable and secure than hers.
As if catching her thought, Grant turned to Jami. “Ready to change your mind and join us?”
“In your dreams,” she replied, her chin high.
“Possibly,” Grant growled for her ears alone, those midnight eyes full of amusement, and something more.
“Wow,” Toby cried, bursting in and out of the tent doorway. “This is cool! Mom, you ought to sleep with me and Grant. Your tent is yucky.”
“Who says?” Jami laughed, mussing her son’s hair already tousled from the boat ride. Her own must be a tangled mess. She tried to finger-comb it, but her fingers snagged on knotted tendrils. Leaving the guys to store the camping gear and supplies, she crawled into the pup tent to get her hairbrush from her bag.
“Where did Mom go?” Toby suddenly asked, his big brown eyes gazing around the clearing uncertainly when he popped back out