Page 9 of The Long Haul

“A-ha. You’re admitting I saved you time.” I’m smug now. I’ve earned it. “See? Team work.” Leaning closer, I conspiratorially whisper, “Besides, I want to win.”

“Win what?”

“Whoever finishes their task first gets to the kitchen first.” I waggle my brows. “Which means first dibs at the goodies they’re baking in there.”

“Get the lead out, Jenkins. Time’s a-wastin’. While you chit chat, we’re falling behind.”

As I get to work, I create a mental list of things I’m learning about Aubrey.

There are now two items.

She’s competitive.

She has a sweet tooth.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” I salute her, which she returns. Sort of.

The precision isn’t there, as it was in mine.

Then again, I was being silly. Maybe she is, too, and this is how.

A few minutes pass as we get to our task, our movements coordinated as if we’d made a strategy beforehand. Or had done this numerous times before.

There’s a first time for everything. Maybe this is ours.

“What do you think?”

About you? A lot.

Highly doubt that’s what she meant.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Where’d you go?”

Down a great path and I want to return to it. Care to join me?

“I was debating what to do next.”

“You read my mind.” Her reading mine could be dangerous. Unless she likes picture books because there are all kinds of visuals of what I want to do with her in there.

And only half of them are sexual in nature.

“The tree?”

“Perfect.”

Yes, you are. For me.

“You wanna get situated and I’ll grab us some hot chocolate?”

**Audrey**

“With marshmallows?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Only the wrong one.”

---