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“So now you’re going to play fucking riddle games with me like Skinny Santa?” I said, looking up at her, knowing she was packing it in for the night.
“No. It’s only as confusing as you allow it to be. You come first, and that’s all that matters. What do you want? You’ve sort of made it clear about what your parents require of you, but this isn’t their life. It’s yours. You deserve to be fully happy, either by marrying whoever you want or being single for the rest of your life. The most important part is deciding what you want for yourself.”
“That’s why I’ve chosen my profession, and I’m not living between France and New York, engaged or married to a wealthy socialite,” I answered her and reminded myself.
“And you seem rather happy to me,” she said.
“Because I am very happy.”
“Then you have Skinny Santa’s riddle all figured out.” She tossed her empty beer bottles into a trash can. “You define your wants and needs by whatever brings you the most happiness.”
“Right,” I answered.
“Good night, handsome. Sleep well.”
She hit me with a wink that let me know exactly what my wants were at the moment; I wanted to fuck that woman senseless. That would make me an extremely happy camper.
But I knew I didn’t need it.
I knew this was all coming up because she was truly off-limits. She wasn’t someone I needed to get involved with, but I wanted to.
Damn that guy for his wise words.
I only wished Mickie hadn’t gone to bed so early because I had the urge to talk to her about everything and nothing all night long.
Fuck it, I thought as I stood. What women out there didn’t love a little pillow talk?
Chapter Eighteen
Mickie
The beer was getting to my head, and John looked too damn hot for me to deal with in combination with the crackling campfire and twinkling stars.
After hearing what I did about his family, I admit I was intimidated by the guy. He was a half-step away from being a prince for crying out loud. Talk about worlds apart.
I needed to let it go, though, because if I saw John as anything other than the goofy guy I got along so well with, it would interfere with my work.
“I’d knock, but the tent doesn’t have the appropriate surface for that,” I heard John say. His shadow was present by the light he held, standing in front of the zipper of my five-person tent.
“What’s up?” I asked, standing and unzipping the tent to allow him inside. “Did your campfire story scare you so badly that you need company?”
“I figured you needed company,” he said.
“Yeah, no,” I said, closing the tent to prevent further chill from getting inside. “A little Aster family history lesson is not enough to frighten me, especially when it reminds me why I won’t be dating you. Sorry,” I immediately apologized because it came out harsher than I imagined. “That was a shitty shot.”
He merely smiled in return. “No, it wasn’t,” he said confidently. “It’s a profound way of telling me you’re afraid to date me.”
“Huh?” I said, knowing this guy was way too confident for his own damn good sometimes. “I’m not afraid of anything. Last I recall, I was almost sound asleep in the comfortable bed you made up for me earlier without a care in the world.”
His eyes studied mine, only the fluorescent glow from his battery-operated lantern lighting the tent.
“No,” he whispered, “you weren’t even close to falling asleep.”
“Let’s get off the psychic train, trying to act like you know what’s going on in my mind, and get back to why you are here?”
“I was lonely,” he said, factually. “In fact, I feel sort of dumb.”
“Well, you’re not,” I said, my eyes following where he sat on the side of the air mattress. “You’re wildly intelligent, and I’m thankful to work with such an amaz?—”
