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Chapter 10
LIAM
When they said we’d be camping, I expected a tiny tent and not much else. Trina and I walk from the rose-lined path onto the beach, and I stop dead in my tracks.
A round yurt sits several yards away, the flaps pulled back to reveal a modest interior. There’s a ring of stones, and Trina heads that way.
Nantucket is warm and cheerful during the day, but there’s a bit of a chill to the night air. I’m grateful for the chance to sit by the fire.
Trina drops to her knees by the stones and glances at me over her shoulder. A grin brightens her eyes. “You know how to start a fire with these?” She holds up several tools I can’t even identify.
I shake my head and sit cross-legged in the sand beside her. “My style is more push a button and wait for the whoosh.”
She curls her nose. “You mean a fake fireplace?”
“Or a gas one,” I protest. “They’re great.” I mimic Tony the Tiger from those cereal commercials, rolling and drawing out the “r” until Trina rolls her eyes.
“Guess it’s finally my time to shine.” She keeps her gaze averted from the blinking cameras. They’re far enough away we can almost forget they’re there. Almost.
I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees then set my chin in my cupped palms. “Teach me, oh wise one.”
“I will.” Her tone is smug as she rips a tube of fibers into thin strands, then takes one of the tools and shaves off tiny slivers. “Magnesium. You want it to sit on your fire starter. You need tiny pieces to start with. Dryer lint is a great fire- starting material.” She concentrates on the pile in front of her while she continues. “Once it’s lit, you slowly add your bigger pieces. Add too much and you’ll smother it.”
“Hmm, sounds like a romance story to me.” I try for playful, but Trina is too busy to pay me much attention.
She strikes the two pieces together and sparks fly.
“Holy mackerel.” I lean back and pull my ankles away from the pit. “I didn’t mean it.”
“What?” She strikes again. Sparks rain onto the magnesium and the fluff she called fire starter. “Oh, the romance thing.” A gleam enters her eyes. “One where the guy smothers the woman in her sleep, maybe.”
“You’re harsh.”
She lifts a shoulder. “I prefer realistic.”
I remember what she said earlier about her previous boyfriend. I can’t imagine treating anyone like that, much less someone I was into.
Trina holds her hair at the nape of her neck with one hand and leans down to blow on the sparks. Smoke billows in a tiny tendril, then blooms into a crackling flame. She whoops and grabs my arm. Her excitement is contagious and without thinking, I lean forward to kiss her cheek. “You’re amazing.” I mean it too. She’s a one-of-a-kind woman any guy would be happy to spend the rest of his life with.
As long as they didn’t mind her publishing trash articles with no context or truth. I reel myself in before I’m lost in her gaze.
