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Oh. Hadn’t counted on hysterics. He grabbed her arms. “I’m joking. Of course it won’t be in your clothes.” He bit his lip.God, please don’t let it be in her clothes.
She lifted her eyes, seeming to test his for veracity. “Please don’t joke. It’s not funny.”
“Sorry, Princess.”
Dan snickered again as she speedily retrieved a thick sweater, track pants, and socks, shaking them vigorously. Anything that survived that beating deserved to live. He added a couple of small branches to the fire, enjoying the sight of the sparks arcing into the blackness.
Dressed in her warmer clothes, Sarah joined him on the log. “Are you staying up?”
That sounded like code forplease stay. Dan bit back the groan. He didn’t relish being up half the night, then trying to deal with the boys tomorrow. “Let me grab something warmer.”
* * *
Sarah shivered,despite being rugged up in her sweater, long pants, and with the fire toasting her toes. Rodents—of all persuasions—should’ve been left off the ark. Even squirrels just looked like rats with big hair. As a child, she’d had friends who had always encouraged her to stroke their guinea pigs, but she could never bring herself to do that. It’d be like touching a snake—totally against nature, totally wrong. Yet Dan was still laughing about her mouse phobia, his shoulders twitching in silent amusement.
She hit his arm. “Stop it.”
Of course, that set him off again, and she couldn’t help but smile at his attempts to calm down. Maybe it was alittlefunny, but definitely not worth this much laughter.
Dan exhaled and leaned against the log she was sitting on, tilting his head to check out the stars. “So, Princess, do you even know how to stoke a fire?”
Why did people doubt her all the time? “You just chuck more wood on it, don’t you?”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Sort of.”
A crack from the trees beyond the vehicles made her jump. “Um, Dan?”
“Yes?”
“Are there bears around?”
“Not here at this time of year.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
That didn’t sound entirely reassuring, but she’d have to trust him anyway. They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes. Every so often he’d start that silent shaking thing again. Who knew guys got the giggles? That was supposed to be reserved for ten-year-old girls. She smacked his arm again. “Stop.”
“Sorry.”
At least he was enjoying himself. So was she. Sort of. The fire was mesmerizing, making her sleepy. But no, sleep was not an option. Who knew where that mouse was hiding? She shuddered again. “I wish I was tough.”
Dan shifted slightly. “What?”
“I wish I was tough. Or at least tougher. Not such a wimp.” Why was she saying this? Tiredness and campfire must combine for some lethal truth-serum effect. She huddled into her sweater. If only she were back in her bedroom at the cottage. How many hours until dawn?
Dan turned to look at her, his gaze searching. “Sarah, there’s different kinds of toughness. You’re one of the toughest girls I know.”
He mustn’t know many girls. “Why do you say that?”
“You’ve had to deal with stuff most people can’t begin to imagine.”
She made a face. “I haven’t exactly beendealingwith it.”
He turned back to the fire and stirred up the embers again. “When you fell off the bike, it was pretty tough of you to get back on when you were so hurt. Gutsy.”
“I had to do that, otherwise I knew I’d never do it again.”
