Page 36 of Past Tents

I’d always been slightly intimidated by his chiseled good looks, but after spending the past few hours with him cooking and looking at the stars, I’d never see him that way again. Not that he wasn’t still intimidatingly good-looking. But he was so much more.

His eyes searched mine, asking for permission. Agreement that I wanted him to kiss me. And I did, but...

“A date! I have a date,” I blurted right before backing away as far as I could. I felt the canvas of the tent pull again at my hair, but it didn’t matter. Actually, it was good. If I looked ridiculous, Clay would lose that gleam in his eye.

He pulled back, startled.

“Oh. Okay.” His brow creased and he rubbed his hands on his pants. “You mean right now?”

Befuddled by my own admission and the yarn I was about to spin, I initially nodded. “Yes.” Then I realized. “I mean, no. Just...soon. I have a date. With a boring-but-stable architect with no pets. Doesn’t like animals, actually. Or reading. He lives in Knoxville.” I recited these details for no sensible reason, except for the fact that I’d memorized them, all the while detesting the idea of a man who disliked animals and reading.

I would not go on the date, despite my beer-induced softening the other night. Architect Louie sounded as wrong for me as wrong got. But he was the pretext I needed to extinguish the budding romantic moment.

“Okay, well...good?” Of course I’d confused Clay with my flowing fountain of information, but I was an unstoppable train, freed from my braking system on a downhill track.

“It’s good. So very good,” I confirmed, swaying around in celebration of my impending date with the boring guy.

Scooting back, Clay crossed his arms and watched me. His initial look of confusion morphed into one of amusement, which made me realize how ridiculous I looked. My movements pulled to a stop.

“Anyhow, just thought you should know.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his distance and his guarded stare. “And now I do.”

“Right, so...” What was I doing? I was following the script that seemed to make sense when I thought I needed a list of reasons not to kiss Clay Meadows, but now I couldn’t remember a single one. “I think I can get this zipped up now. Thank you so much for helping with it.”

Clay had already backed up and flipped around so he was sitting in the tent opening, lacing up his shoes. “Of course. Bound to be a kid or two with a stuck zipper. More good training for the retreat.”

“For sure.” I had my back pressed against the far wall of the tent, the almost-kiss long forgotten.

Except . . .

Hours later, once I heard only silence again in the tent next to mine, I found myself straining to hear any sign that he was still awake. Wondering if he was thinking about me.

Because sure as hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. More than once I debated calling him back over, but each time, I talked myself down.

Over and over again for several hours until I finally drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

ALLY

Iawoke to the sound of birds. Hundreds of birds, all chirping in harmony on branches of the surrounding trees. My eyes felt glued shut, seduced by the glory of a good night’s sleep. Clay was right—there was nothing like sleeping on the ground with the smells of the forest and the chill of the night air to make a down sleeping bag feel like a cloud.

Hands down, it was the best night of sleep I’d ever had. Slowly, I eased my eyes open, surprised to find light streaming through the gauzy walls of the tent. Not that I thought the thin fabric would block out the sun like regular walls, but this was different. I felt the draw of nature beckoning me outside. The day had dawned and I needed to see it.

Unzipping my sleeping bag, I freed myself from the warm cocoon and pulled a pair of sweatpants on over my pajama bottoms. A hoodie over my top.

When I spied my hiking boots in the bottom corner of my tent, I felt grateful Clay had advised keeping them inside. I felt confident no critters had unzipped my tent and hidden themselves in my shoes, but I turned them upside down and shook them for good measure.

I unzipped my tent and shoved my feet into the hiking boots before standing up and inhaling the biggest, most cleansing breath I’d ever experienced in my life. This right here—this air—was the reason people came to the mountains.

I looked around Clay’s yard with a new appreciation for the outdoors. This small patch of grass under the stars had transformed itself into a wilderness wonderland. No, Clay had done that, with his walk to the lake and his knowledge of the star maps and his handiness with a campfire.

Which had the effect of giving me a new appreciation forhim.

Before last night, before we’d almost kissed, Clay was just Clay—a guy I’d known forever and long ago decided was not for me. Now he was Clay, the rugged outdoorsman who rocked a flannel shirt over corded muscles better than any guy I’d ever known. He was the guy with the sharp jawline and smoky hazel eyes who cared enough to make sure I felt comfortable in the woods before I had to show my stuff on a school trip. He was...

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