Ben flopped back onto the sleeping bag, covering his face with one hand. “This is the most aggressively adorable sabotage I’ve ever experienced.”
“She wiggled a wire off my truck.”
“Shedefinitelydid,” he muttered. “And then orchestrated a full romantic marooning with a fix-it part as a parting gift.”
I stared at the sky, stunned. “We’ve been Millie’d.”
Ben groaned. “There needs to be a support group.”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
The full-body, can’t-breathe, tears-in-your-eyes kind of laugh that came out of me like a pressure valve breaking open. Ben looked over, and even though he was still mostly hiding beneath the sleeping bag, his mouth twitched.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he said.
“Oh, no. I’m just picturing what I’m going to say to her the next time I see her. I think it’s somewhere between a hug and an exorcism.”
“I vote exorcism.”
“Did you see her face?” I cackled. “She wasdelighted.”
“She definitely saw my face. And possibly my—”
“Okay,nope.” I covered my ears with exaggerated flair. “This is already too much for my fragile dignity.”
Ben chuckled, rolling to his side and resting his head on his hand, still clutching the relay in the other. “Well, at least she brought this.”
I nodded, still catching my breath. “You think you can fix it?”
“We shall see.”
I looked at him then, really looked. Shirtless, sleep-tousled, pink-cheeked from embarrassment, and somehow still one of the most breathtaking things I’d ever seen.
“I kind of loved last night,” I said softly.
His eyes met mine. “Me too.”
And for one long, shining second, we forgot all about tools and sabotage and the woman who made it all happen.
But I begrudgingly got out of the truck and dressed while Ben was rifling through his clothes.
“I’ve never liked hiking so much in my life,” Ben called out as he pulled on his pants and forgot his shirt.
“Me too.” I shook my hair out and pulled it into a ponytail.
“Now, onto fixing the starter.” He took the box Millie dropped off and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“It must have been when the beaver was chasing us.”
He chuckled and opened the hood of the truck.
I leaned against a pine tree with my arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t completely mesmerized by the sight of Ben crouched under the open hood of my truck.
But let’s be honest—there’s only so long a woman can pretend not to notice a shirtless man covered in morning sunlight and elbow grease, especially when that man was fiddling with tools.
“Remind me again what you do for a living?” I called out, trying to distract myself from the way his back muscles flexed.
“Lawyer,” he said, voice muffled from beneath the hood. “Why?”
