Page 55 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

“Well, Bram told me about the place, so that makes sense.”

“You know there’s no service out there, right? What if something goes wrong and we need help?”

“I brought a satellite phone,” I say, “but we won’t need it. We’re professionals, right?”

“Ha,” she says on a laugh. “Have you everbeencamping? Like in a tent? Without power or water?”

“It can’t be that hard,” I mumble in response, and she laughs again.

“Well, good thing for you, city boy, Iama professional.”

“Why do you think I invited you to come?” I shoot back, looking over at her with a smirk.

She shrugs, then runs her palms over her breasts and down her thighs, saying, “Because of all this?”

“That too,” I admit, giving her a heated look while tugging my lower lip between my teeth.

She chuckles again, then jerks her head toward the windshield. “Eyes on the road, buddy.”

I swivel my gaze forward, and realizing I’ve drifted over the center line, jerk the wheel to bring us back to the right side of the road. Willow laughs, reaching over to rest her palm on my thigh. The touch warms my skin, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than in this moment.

I take the turn off the highway Bram mentioned in his directions, and the undercarriage of my rental car takes a bit of a beating from tall weeds and rocks flying up from the tires. We’re bouncing around quite a bit, but when I look at Willow, she seems calm and content, not worried at all.

“Just another half mile, or so,” she says, pointing through the windshield. “Then we’ll have to park and hoof it to make it to the spot, if it’s the same one I’m thinking of.”

“It must be,” I reply, flinching as my front tires hit a huge dip in the road––if you can even call this wildlife trail a road. “Bram said we’d have to hike a bit.”

I pull as far off the trail as my car can handle when Willow signals for it, then we climb from the car. Bram came over last night and helped me organize most of the gear in a pack, and I pull the straps over my shoulders, trying hard not to flinch at the weight of it. Willow smirks like she sees right through me, but doesn’t say a word as she pulls her own, much lighter-looking pack onto her shoulders. She grabs the soft-sided cooler I packed with food, and I take the jug of water and hard-shelled cooler packed with root beer and ice to keep it cold.

After closing the trunk and locking up the car, we head out, and I’m happy to let Willow take the lead since she obviously knows where she’s going. It’s also quickly obvious she knowswhatshe’sdoing,easily navigating the weeds and brush while moving confidently toward our destination.

I, on the other hand, end up with a scratch on my arm from a thorny bush, then almost fall on my face when my ankle twists after stepping in a leaf-covered hole. This isn’t going at all the way I’d hoped.

I wanted to bring her out here so we could have some fun inherworld, but I also wanted to prove I could exist here with her. That I’m not just some Hollywood pretty boy who depends on wi-fi and delivery services.

But then again, she smiles every time she looks at me, so it can’t be goingthatbad.

When we reach a clearing in the woods, Willow stops. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, she inhales deeply, then exhales slowly, making her chest rise and fall like it’s the first real breath she’s taken in ages.

This was a good choice. She looks happy and more gorgeous than I’ve ever seen her.

Setting the cooler down, I shrug off my pack and lay it down beside it as Willow slides her own pack to the ground. Moving in behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder as we take in our surroundings.

It really is peaceful out here. The only sounds are of birds chirping and the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. The sun shines bright above us, though there is a slight chill in the air. Being here with Willow, feeling her warm and relaxed in my arms…it’s everything.

I kiss her cheek and release her. “I’ll set up the tent.”

“Do you want me to help you?” she asks, spinning around to watch me with a dubious expression as I pull the tent from my pack.

“No, I got it. You just relax.”

She shrugs and bends over, brushing leaves away from a circle of rocks that was obviously put together by some previous campers as a fire ring. I’m popping together tent poles when she finishes, telling me she’ll find some sticks and branches for the fire.

I nod absentmindedly as I stare at the tent I’ve spread across the ground and the poles in my hand, unsure of what to do next. I hear the crackle and pop of her footsteps as she wanders around our campsite, and I try to keep my expression confident as I pluck the edge of the tent from the ground and attempt to push one of the poles through the slots in the material.

The end of the pole gets jammed, and I try to pull it back out, but the segments only separate, leaving the first piece inside the tent while I try not to break the elastic band that connects them.

“God damn it,” I mutter under my breath, and bright laughter peals out behind me.

---