laugh.
“Goodbye, Emily.” He unzips the tent. “It was nice knowing you.” He disappears out into the storm.
“This is why you’re the CEO.” I giggle as I hear the metallic bangs as he hammers the tent pegs back in.
The rain really begins to pour down, and the wind is ferocious. Honestly, what are the chances?
Damn you, weather.
I unzip the tent and peer out into the pouring rain. He’s struggling to stay on his feet from the wind as he bends down and hammers tent pegs into the ground, headlamp still firmly in place. He’s muddy and sopping wet. I get the uncontrollable giggles once more, and unable to help it, I grab my phone and take some photos of him. Surely one day he’ll find this funny.
After ten minutes, he comes back in. He’s panting, wet, and covered in mud from the splashing of the rain. I grab a towel and begin to dry his hair. I peel his shirt off him and slide down his track pants. “Just get dry. It’s going to stop soon,” I say to try to calm him.
The sound of the rain is deafening above us, and he dries himself.
I shuffle through his bag and find him some dry clothes, and the tent begins to sway again as he hops around half-wet, trying to get dressed.
The tent lifts again.
“Get fucked,” he snaps.
Oh my God—this really is horrendous.
We hear a loud rip in the roof, and our eyes widen.
“Oh no . . . the tent,” I whisper. “We can’t damage the tent—it’s Michael’s.”
“I’ll buy the poor prick a camper. This is fucking intolerable,” he splutters.
Rip. The tent rips in half. “Ah,” I scream as our things go flying everywhere in the wind. I scurry to the ground as I try to throw everything into bags.
Some kind of sanity rubber band breaks inside him, and he puts his hands on his hips, tips his head back to the sky, and bursts out laughing.
“This isn’t funny. Get our bags to the truck,” I cry.
He laughs . . . and laughs . . . and laughs.
I scramble to keep our phones dry and run to the truck with our bags.
“Jameson,” I yell. “Do something.”
He turns to me and takes me in his arms in the pouring rain and kisses me. Our headlamps hit together, and I laugh too.
“This is ridiculous,” I whisper.
“Hotel?”
“Please.”
“Hello.” I smile at the receptionist of the tourist center. “Have you got any B and Bs available for two nights, please?”
The woman behind the desk types away.
We stayed in a hideous hotel last night, and Jameson refuses to stay there again. He said we can only stay the full weekend if I find somewhere half-decent for the next two nights. He’s chasing coffee outside for us.
The rain is gone, and at some stage we have to go back and pick up the camping stuff from the Armageddon storm last night. We just got our things and left. There was nothing we could do in the middle of the night in those conditions anyway.
“I only have a farmhouse.” She types and then reads. “Arndell is the property.”
I frown as I listen.
“It’s available for two nights, and you can have that at a discounted rate if you want.”
I smile. I love that she thinks we need a discount. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” I slide over Jameson’s credit card, and she does the paperwork.
“Here are the keys.” She hands me a map. “Go down to Falls Road, and then the property has its own road in on the right.”
“Oh, how big is it?”
“The house is on three hundred acres. The land is gorgeous. The house is a little tired, but the location is stunning.”
I smile. “Cool, okay.”
I bounce out to the pickup to see my poor disheveled man. He looks like he’s been to hell and back, and funnily enough, I think it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. It’s as if that sanity rubber band that broke in him last night released some of his tension.
“Okay, we got a farmhouse.”
He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh and hands me my coffee. He shifts the gears on the steering wheel and pulls out.
I smile out the window as I ride in the bumpy truck.
“Do you know we haven’t passed a car?” he says as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Different.”
We follow the directions, and ten minutes later we get to a big stone entryway with the sign.
ARNDELL
“This is it.”
We