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The night had started out great indeed. Jax had called her out of the blue and told her he had a surprise in mind and to dress warm. There was a blizzard moving in from the east, whiteout conditions were expected. Mother Nature was flexing her muscles, cracking one knuckle at a time.
Milly had taken more care than she’d like to admit in picking out her outfit. After a few costume changes she’d settled on her favorite pair of jeans—the ones that made her butt look like J.Lo’s—a light gray sweater that had a deep scoop neckline, and knee-high leather boots that were definitely more fashion that function. She topped it off with a bright green and white scarf and just enough makeup to make it look like she hadn’t spent a half hour on it—which she had.
She’d chosen to wear her hair down and natural, light waves spilling over one shoulder. Her neck on display.
Since people were encouraged to stay indoors and ride out the storm, she hadn’t a clue as to what he had planned. But when he’d walked her through the lobby of the lodge a few of the employees gave them a curious glance. Then they’d arrived, at what she assumed was his room, and he’d tied on the blindfold.
“I’d say a blindfold in public makes a different statement than one in front of a hotel room door.”
“A suite,” he amended.
“Are the events of the evening on the approved list?”
“Why?” he whispered, his breath grazing her neck. Her insides turned over in response. “You worried you won’t be able to keep your tongue off me?”
Yes. Yes, she was. Not that she’d let him know that. Milly was already in serious danger of getting too involved with a man whose life was spent chasing the next storm. And her life had been uprooted by enough storms. But when she was with him, like this, it felt as if they were in the eye together, with the world clashing around them.
And that was a scary place to be.
“I think I can resist,” she lied.
This time when he spoke, his lips grazed the outer shell of her ear. “Then why are you scratching your wrist?”
Damn him! She was scratching. Irritated, she stuffed her hands into her front pockets. She could almost hear his amused smile.
“Shall we get on with the show?” she asked primly.
His hands settled on her hips and the very air around them seemed electrified. “I have a ladies first rule.” Steadying her against his front, he walked them through the doorway and inside. She barely heard the lock engage over the pounding of her heart.
He guided her deeper into the room. She could smell the scent of pine, feel the warm glow of a lit fireplace, and taste the hunger that was stirring in the depths of her being.
“Ready?” he asked, and before she could ask “Ready for what?” he was removing the blindfold.
There was no bright light blurring her vision, no crowd of people waiting to surprise her. In fact, the only thing that lit the room was a roaring fire in the hearth and, what seemed like, a million fairy lights twinkling overhead.
On the floor were two sleeping bags, side by side, and in front of the fireplace was a flannel blanket set out like a picnic with all the ingredients for hot dogs and s’mores. In the middle sat a cooler filled with beer and soda.
“What is this?” she asked.
“This is you and I camping beneath the stars.”
She turned in his arms. “You did this for me?”
He looked at her strangely. “I promised you I’d help you complete as many adventures as possible and this was one of the things you and Zoe talked about.” It was said as if it were a foregone conclusion that he’d go so far out of his way to create this special moment for her. “I know it isn’t in the great outdoors, but camping in single-digit temps isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. No matter what those sub-zero sleeping bags would have you think.”
“It’s perfect.” She went up on her toes and gave him a gentle kiss to the side of his lip that was still a bit swollen. “And sweet.”
“Sweet?” He made a face. “Don’t let the guys overhear you or they’ll start calling me Princess.”
He was trying to play off the whole thing as nothing more than rolling out a couple of sleeping bags, but she knew better. He’d put thought and imagination behind this.
“So what’s the itinerary?”
He chuckled. “That’s the point of camping. No schedules, no plans, just an itinerary-free night that we play by ear. We’ll roast some hot dogs, make s’mores, drink a few beers, and play a game or two of Jenga Roulette.”
“What’s Jenga Roulette?”
“It’s like regular Jenga, only on the bottom of certain blocks there are questions that you must answer honestly. If not, you lose a piece of clothing.”
