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Which, I admit, I do a lot.
He and my brother seriously need to put a couple of chairs in that office. Okay, maybe I get a kick out of teasing Cole a little. He always makes a big point of studying his phone or his laptop or some sheet of paper.
And that’s fine because he’s grumpy Cole and I don’twanthim to look at me.
Do I?
I put a hand to my brow to block the afternoon sun, scan the map, and then look back out at the circle of strange-looking tents. “Okay, that third one’s ours. If there’s only one bed, I’ll rock-paper-scissors you for it.”
He grits his teeth. “If there’s only one bed, it’s all yours.”
“No, I want to be fair. We could rock-paper-scissors or flip a quarter or something.” I gesture toward the third yurt again. “Do you think that pipe things coming out of the roof is a chimney?”
Without answering me, he heads that way.
Chapter 6
Cole
Olivia came on a fishing-slash-camping trip with me and Trent once.
Or, she planned on it, at least. She was on some sort of nature kick at the time, getting over a guy. She thought being out in the fresh air would be good for her.
She lasted four-and-a-half hours.
I remember because me and Trent made a bet about it. I said she’d for sure make it through the night; he figured she’d bail by supper time.
He was right.
She tried to order a pizza and they wouldn’t deliver to the campsite, so she drove off in a huff.
Me and Trent had a good laugh about it, I remember.
Butthis? Moving into a yurt for five days—and five nights—with her…?
I’m not laughing about this.
Because she can’t just drive off, and neither can I.
“I’msurethere’s electricity,” she says, as she bends at the waist and lifts the corner of the bedspread.
Like the outlet might be under the bed.
“Olivia, man, we’re off-grid out here. Did you see any poles or lines out there?” She drops to her knees and pushes her head farther under the hanging blankets.
Her backside wiggles, like she’s sweeping her hand around. “Maybe they’re built into the floor… I’ve seen that before, you know. Very European.”
I will not look at her booty.
I willnot.
I refuse.
I know how good-looking she is. She gave me a nice reminder of that when she peeled off her sweater, outside. Gave me a gander of her bare shoulders, her collar bones under the straps of her tank top, all that milky white skin.
But I know better than to check her out. Olivia wants nothing to do with me.
She’s always made that clear.
