Page 122 of Mr. Hook-up

“Yes, lots of that.” I turned at a gravel road, the tires kicking up dust and rocks behind us, causing a brown cloud to form in my rearview mirror. “Do you feel anything?”

“I didn’t believe you when you said we’d be fully disconnected. I didn’t think you lied. I just, you know, didn’t fully process the idea of it. But now that I’m out here and I see this view”—she turned her facetoward the open window, the wind blowing her hair everywhere, a smile growing over her lips—“I feel a lot calmer.”

I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed the back of it. “You once told me you weren’t afraid of anything. Do you still feel that way? Or are you intimidated by what we’re about to do? Where we’re staying? What things are going to look like over the next couple of days?”

She glanced at me, scanning my eyes.

“I don’t want you to feel anything but amazement while we’re out here,” I continued. “But, at the same time, I realize this is my kind of vacation. I’m hoping you’ll experience it the way I want you to ... I just don’t know if that’ll be the case.” I nipped one of her knuckles and soothed it with a kiss. “To make that adjustment easier on you, I want to deal with any concerns you have before you see our accommodations.”

She laughed. “Are you reading me the back of a Moab camping warning label?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I winked at her.

“And you’re saying I may hate you after this?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Hate is a strong feeling. Let’s go with ... camping will continue to be my thing, and all other non-camping adventures will be our thing.”

While her hand was still near my lips, she wiggled it out of my grip and cupped my cheek. “I’m going into this very open minded. I want to love it.”

“Good.” I kissed her fingers as they got close to my mouth. “Because I want you to take this all in, and I don’t want you to be closed off to the idea of what it can do for you.”

I stopped the SUV just as she said, “I wish I knew what you meant.”

“You will very soon.” I unhooked my seat belt. “Let’s get out. I have a lot to show you.”

We climbed out of the front seat, and I met her at the passenger side of the SUV, locking my fingers with hers as I led her toward the tent. From the outside, it didn’t look like anything special: a largedouble-wide, equally extended canvas that peaked at the entrance, held up by thick, sturdy logs. But once you walked inside, you saw that there was nothing average about this tent.

Like an old-school circus tent, the canvas rose in the middle, dipping to hang across the tops of the logs, creating layers of shapes as it lifted toward the ceiling. The floor inside was hardwood, raised several inches off the dirt, so it felt like you were stepping on a platform. Above the king-size bed that sat on a wooden frame, outfitted in lush bedding, was a clear section of covering, thin enough that we’d be able to see the stars when we went to sleep. A small love seat and table and chair sat in the corner, and on the other side was a barn door that, once opened, revealed a full bathroom, outfitted with a large soaking tub.

I gave Drake the entire tour of the interior, and when we finished, she stood near the bed, glancing around the space, her eyes eventually finding mine.

“This isn’t what I expected. At all.” A smile was now on her face. “Nor is this camping. Easton, this is straight-up glamping, and I can absolutely handle that. It’s like a hotel in the middle of nowhere—there just isn’t anyone to make our bed or change out our towels.”

“But there’s plenty.” I pointed at the large cabinet by the barn door that held all the towels we’d need. “I requested extra.”

“Of course you did.”

“And there’s this ...” I walked over to the cooler near the entrance and opened the lid, finding the bottle of champagne I’d asked for along with the two glasses chilling inside. “Which I think I should open now.”

“I agree.” She moved closer, wrapping her arms around my waist, looking up at me. “I’m dying to know how this tent has running water and an option to flush the toilet versus just a terrifying hole and the ability to fill a massive tub that I plan to use every day while we’re here—but I don’t think I want to know that answer.”

“Let’s not even address it,” I said, setting down the bottle so I could rest my arms on her shoulders. “But I can tell you, they’re not all like this. Maybe for our next trip, I should show you the other side of camping.”

“Baby steps,” she whispered, laughing. “How about I grab our stuff and unpack, and you get us those drinks?”

“You’re not lifting a finger.”

“I’m lifting more than a finger and don’t try to stop me.” Her eyes turned stern. “I mean it. Let’s divide and conquer.”

I kissed her. “All right, deal.”

While she disappeared from the tent, heading toward the SUV parked less than fifteen yards away, I worked on opening the bottle, untwisting the metal, and popping out the cork. As I was pouring some into the glasses, she was rolling our suitcases inside. I filled both flutes and brought them outside, where I located the set of Adirondack chairs that I’d specifically requested. They were behind the tent, a tiny table in between them. I moved all three pieces a bit farther past the tent to give us a better view, and placed the champagne on the table.

When I returned inside, she had both suitcases unzipped, our personal items laid out in the bathroom, our hiking boots lined up, and our packing cubes full of clothes and undergarments resting in the cabinet next to the bed.

Pleased with her progress, she turned around and faced me. “I think I’m done.”

I held out my hand, waiting for her to grab it, and then I brought her outside, back behind the tent, showing her the setup that she hadn’t seen until now.

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