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“Camping?” I laughed. “We’re going camping?”
Noah was still holding my hand, only now we were in the heart of Tranent, in the dead center of a sporting goods store. Propane stoves and lanterns hung from display racks. We were surrounded by tents in every direction.
We’d been there for almost ten minutes already, searching the aisles. In typical guy fashion, Noah steadfastly refused to ask any of the sales associates for help.
“Exactly what are you looking for?” I asked, for the third time. “Maybe I can hel—”
“Ah ha!” he cried abruptly. “Here we go.”
He plucked something down from one of the shelves. It was the size of a phone book, and just as thick. Its surface was covered in drab green camouflage.
“What the—”
“Trail camera!” he declared triumphantly.
I stared back at Noah, still trying to understand. All I could see were full, kissable lips on a tan, masculine face. His strong, sexy jawline, all covered with light blond stubble…
“Your smile is beautiful and all,” I told him, “but I still need a little help here.”
His hazel eyes glimmered with life. I was getting distracted…
“It’s a hunter’s camera,” he explained, turning the object over in his hands. “You strap it to a tree, and it takes pictures of wildlife.”
I could see a round lens on the front. Two thin slots on the back. A second or two later, realization dawned over me.
“You mean…”
“Yes. We set it up at t
he edge of the field, and we find out who’s been harassing you.”
I grabbed the thing from him in excitement. It was a lot lighter than I expected it to be.
“How does it know when to take photos?” I gasped.
“It’s got motion sensors.”
“And where do the—”
“On an SD card. Loaded in back.”
He pushed his thumb against a tiny compartment, and I heard an audible click. A little panel opened, revealing a tiny slot.
“They’ve got memory cards over there,” he pointed. “Just over your shoulder.”
Ten minutes later we had a trail camera all picked out, and a card with enough memory to store hundreds of photos if necessary. But all I really needed was one.
“This was a damned brilliant idea,” I told him excitedly, while standing in line to pay. “Thanks.”
“No thanks needed,” smiled Noah.
Before I knew it he was already paying, and waving away my credit card. I protested, over and over again, but he insisted.
“It’s nothing,” he said as we left the store. “Besides,” he added confidentially, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll just return it when we’re done with it. Get a refund, after we’ve caught that peeping Tom asshole that keeps trying to mess with you.”
“It’s not nothing,” I protested again. “It’s definitely something. And thank you.”
“You can thank me by buying lunch,” he said, taking my hand again.
