I grinned up at him. “You’re hired.”
He smiled back, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
God, I was in trouble.
We packed up our things, stowed the sleeping bags, and climbed into the cab. This time, when our shoulders brushed, we didn’t pull away. And when I caught him glancing at me as I buckled my seatbelt, his eyes softened just enough to make my pulse skip.
“You ready?” I asked, starting the truck.
He nodded. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
The word echoed through me like a warm ache.
Neither of us spoke as we drove through the woods. The road was bumpy and winding, but the quiet was comfortable. I could feel the tension bleeding out of both of us, replaced by something else, something warm and hovering just beneath the surface.
At one point, he reached across and turned the dial on my old radio, landing on a fuzzy eighties station. A sweet, electric guitar riff filled the cab, the kind that made you want to roll the windows down and drive with your hand out in the breeze.
“You like this stuff?” he asked.
“Only when I’m feeling nostalgic or emotionally compromised.”
“So... now.”
I snorted. “Maybe.”
We hit the main road again, the sun rising higher over the trees, painting everything gold. And for a moment, it felt like time had slowed just for us.
As the lodge came into view, Ben shifted in his seat and looked over at me.
“You know,” he said, “for a truck that died mid-date, this might’ve been one of the best overnights I’ve ever had.”
I turned to him, heart thudding a little too hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The truck bumped over the gravel, and I looked toward the lodge windows, bracing for the inevitable sight of Millie behind a curtain with binoculars.
But for now, I didn’t care.
For now, it was just us.
And even if this whole thing ended sooner than I wanted, I’d remember every second.
Especially the way he looked at me now, as if maybe, this wasn’t just about vacation.
It was aboutus.
And whatever came next.
But the second I stepped through the front door of Honey Leaf Lodge, I spotted her.
Sienna.
Sitting at the welcome desk with a mug of coffee and the kind of slow, smug smile that only meant one thing. She knew something.
Ben brushed past me, carrying his bag and offering Sienna a nod that somehow managed to be both polite and swoony.
