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Elouise
I only havetime to nod my reply before Beckett is ducking back out of my tent. With a quick pull he closes the zipper, and then he’s gone.
Just like that.
Burying my face in my hands I let out a groan. Which is worse, embarrassment or mortification? It’s gotta be mortification, right? That’s gotta be what I’m feeling.
What in the hell is even happening tonight?!
First, Creepy Dad Adam barges into my tent. I heard what Beckett said to him, but that had to be a load of crap. Right? No one mistakes one tent for another. Not sober.
A shiver runs down my arms and I shoot a glare at my bag with the vodka.
Crossing my arms back over my perky as fuck nipples I silently curse the little bottle of booze.
Weren’t you supposed to keep me warm?!
I lift my arms and look down, confirming my current state.
Yep. Nips were on full display for Beckett.
The one bright side is that I think Beckett interrupted Adam before he got an eyeful of my almost naked breasts. Beckett himself is a different story. He got two eyefuls. And wasn’t even being subtle about looking.
But then he took off, and I’m not sure what offended him more, my nipples, or my sleeping bag.
The tent zipper starts to drag up again, but Beckett’s voice filters through the fabric before I have time to freak out, “It’s me.”
“Oh, um, come in.” I murmur, unsure why he’s back.
When the flap is unzipped, I expect to see Beckett, but instead a pile of blankets gets tossed inside.
“Uh…”
What is happening?
Beckett steps through the opening, ignoring my unasked question, and zipping the tent shut behind him – leaving his boots outside.
He’s hunched over in the low space, and I have literally zero intelligent things to say about this new and bizarre development.
Beckett grabs the bottom corner of my sleeping bag. “Out.”
“What?”
He tugs it again, “You need to get out of this piece of shit bag, Smoky.”
Smoky.
I refuse to overthink the fact that he’s given me a nickname.
“Elouise,” his look is pure exasperation, “out.”
Eyeing the pile of blankets, I figure whatever he has planned will be a lot warmer than my current situation, so I unzip myself and roll out. Taking only a second to think WTF at my zipper magically working again.
Maneuvering around each other, I scoot into the corner, and watch with fascination as Beckett creates an honest-to-god bed. I don’t know what sort of magic camping store he shops at, but he has a large pad that goes from flat to two inches thick in a blink of an eye. He then layers on a couple of the blankets I’d brought to soften the bed even more. Then with a few quick zips he connects two large sleeping bags to make one giant one, leaving a side open – assumedly for easy entry. And lastly, he spreads two thick wool blankets over the whole pile.
I’m currently shivering, and it looks like heaven.
Sitting back on his heels, Beckett lifts the open corner. “Get in.”
