Page 307 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
My heart’s still racing. “Good. Yes.”
We stand there for a second.
“We should’ve had this on our bucket list,” I say. “Or make it a yearly tradition.”
Since when do I make traditions? I do my best to avoid such things.
His hand slides up my arm and rests on my throat. “If it involves you climbing me again, I’m in.”
My cheeks go redder than a ripe tomato on my Mama’s windowsill. “Noted.”
Then Dean breaks the silence again. “C’mon, we’re so close.” He slaps Hart as they take off running past us.
We burst out of the maze seconds before the other group runs out the opposite side.
“Ha!” Dean doubles over, panting, fist high in triumph. “We won.”
“We won.” Hart bends with his hands on his knees.
Dean slaps his arm. “Get up, old man, you’re making us look bad.”
“Won by a hair,” Bronx argues.
“I want honey-glazed.” I point at the other group, mainly Josie. “How does it feel to be losers?”
“Cheaters. Y’all were peeking over the hay bales.” She’s not wrong.
“Is it cheating if you didn’t give us any rules?” I wink at Hart.
A flashlight pierces us. “Hey there! Stop!”
We run. And I love every second of it. Love the thrill. Love that we almost get caught. Love when we all outrun the security.
I love that Hart holds my hand the entire time and kisses me when we’re long gone from the maze. I love that he doesn’t stop holding my hand all the way to the campground because I love him. I love him with all my heart and soul, and I never want to be apart again.
That’s why it hits harder when we get back to the campsite, and the privacy we had all day disappears. There’s pie. Whispers of “happy birthday” in my ear. But they celebrate it so low-key, that I wouldn’t even classify it as a birthday. Instead, Hannah shows the Wildes how to bake pie in foil packets over the campfire.
I love them for it. And through the somewhat quiet evening—as quiet as it can be with a herd of Foxes and Wildes—there is this new-found enjoyment.
But when the night winds down, it’s even harder watching him walk to his tent before I climb into bed with Natalie.
My body hums with memories of the day.
My mind spins with images of him.
So much happened today. What started as a trip to the animal shelter turned into a lovemaking session I didn’t think could get any better, but then running through a hay maze, laughing and joking with our families, that’s a treasure I’ll never forget.
“Just go to his tent,” Natalie murmurs.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s been an hour and you’re still not asleep.” She rolls over to face me. “Go to Hart. Please. I can’t sleep with you. And you don’t want to sleep with me.”
“That’s, not—”
Her finger presses against my mouth. “I don’t care. Go.”
I smile. “Okay. Bye. Love you.”
