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He moved around the open door and took her spot, pulling the gun bag out. “What problem? Us being attracted to each other? That’s not a problem.”
She followed him toward the camp house. “You realize what just happened right? We had sex back there.” She whispered the word as if there were anyone around to hear it.
He smiled and set down the bag by the door. “Yes, I remember.” And that was a memory that would be branded on him for a while. Stripping her down in the front seat. Reclining back, her bare feet settling next to his thighs, his hands lifting her up and down atop him. He’d never be able to grab that roof handle again without remembering her holding onto it for balance, her eyes shuttering closed, her mouth opening in a silent O of pleasure.
“…and all the kissing, and the looks…” She was ticking items off on her hand, her focus flipping to him as he turned to head back to the truck. “Hey!” She jogged next to him. “This is important!”
“I’m not going to stop kissing and looking at you.” He pulled at the tailgate handle, lowering the door and frowning at the kindling he’d collected before shooting, now too wet to do anything with. The same went for the charcoal he’d brought for the grill, which was now a damp mess, the bag weakened and split from the rain. He’d have to chop up some of the logs they had and get to their dry centers. He closed the tailgate.
“I came here to keep you safe, not to bounce around on your penis,” she said plaintively, and he couldn’t stop the laugh that fell out of him.
Coming to a stop, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry I had sex with you.”
She fidgeted. “Well, it wasn’t all your fault. I was a pretty willing participant.”
“Yeah, the whooping and hollering kind of gave you away.” He smiled, expecting her to react and was rewarded by her irritated eye-roll.
“We both know there wasn’t whooping and hollering. Not this time.” She held up her hands in surrender. “I can’t be held responsible for what happened that first night.”
His dick twitched at the comparison. She was right, there hadn’t been any loud cries of pleasure this time. Instead, he’d experienced an entirely different set of Autumn sounds. Soft inhales. A quiet mew of pleasure when she’d settled down on him. His name in a dozen different ways—panted, begged, whispered, and worshipped. It had only gotten better when he’d laid her across the bench seat and settled on top of her.
Thunder rumbled and her neck snapped toward the sound. “We should get inside.”
“I’ll get the rest of the stuff out of the truck. You go on in.”
She listened to him, going into the building without an argument. By the time he brought the last box of clays in, she had the cooler lid up and half the contents out on the table. He pulled the screen door shut and her head popped up.
“What are you thinking about for dinner?” She gestured to the items. “You kind of have a hodgepodge of stuff here.”
“I packed it thinking Nate would be with us.” He came closer, looking over the items. “You want steaks or burgers? There’s a grill on the side we can use.”
She winced when a strike of lightning hit nearby. “Outside? No way.” She gestured to the stove. “I could do burgers in a skillet, if you have one.”
“There’s a ton of pots and pans inside the oven. Feel free to go nuts.”
She smiled, and he felt his heart flip a little in response.
There wasn’t Pictionary, much to Autumn’s disappointment. There was a Scrabble board, and they spent a couple of hours bent over the board, competing over words. She cooked burgers, he opened up a bag of chips, and they worked their way through most of Nate’s beer.
The more she drank, the more she talked, and the more layers that unfolded.
“Most embarrassing death,” he prompted.
“Too many to name,” she shot back, sitting sideways in the wicker chair.
“Cop-out.”
She gave a confident smirk, which might join his list of top five favorite Autumn expressions. “I can give you five without thinking twice about it.”
He spread his hands. “I’m waiting.”
She stuck her thumb out and rattled off the first one. “Kenneth Pinyan, who died from internal injuries after having anal sex with a stallionnnn.”
Her word slurred, the final syllable given extra attention, and he smiled at how quickly the alcohol had hit her, the last hour a quick downward turn into clumsy Autumn. Still, he nodded, giving her the point and waiting to see if she had anything else.
“Number two. The owner of Segway was killed when his Segway drove off a cliff.”
Not really embarrassing, as much as ironic, but he let it slide.
