“What was that?” he asked in a whisper.
“An owl.”
“Oh.”
He listened for the sound again but instead heard what sounded like bones rattling nearby. “What’s that?” he whispered a little more urgently.
“Wind rattling tree branches against each other.”
“Oh.” Chas tried to block out the night sounds, but damned if he didn’t hear something moving outside. Close. “What’s that?”
Gunner replied deadpan, “A bear. And it’s going to rip through the tent and eat you if you don’t be quiet.”
Holy crap. Chas lay perfectly still in his sleeping bag for long enough to hear Gunner breathing deeply. He’d fallen asleep with a freaking bear outside? How dare he—?
And then it hit him. There had never been a bear at all. The jerk had just wanted him to stop asking questions. Furious at Gunner for tricking him and more furious at himself for falling for it, he turned over with a huff and closed his eyes, determined to get the best night’s sleep ever, just to spite Gunner.
When he woke again, green-tinted light with an odd glowing quality to it met his confused gaze. His nose and cheeks were freezing, but the rest of him was toasty warm. And darned if he didn’t feel well-rested. He rolled over and was startled to see Gunner’s sleeping bag flat and empty.
Chas sat up fast and hit the ceiling of the tent with his head. A strange sliding noise startled him. What on earth?
He unzipped his sleeping bag and quickly rezipped it as frigid air poured into his warm little cocoon. The tent zipper moved and he lurched, looking around frantically for a weapon. He flung an arm out of his sleeping bag and grabbed his shoe, holding it up menacingly.
Gunner’s head poked through the opening. “Morning, sunshine.”
Chas scowled at Gunner but then stared over his shoulder in disbelief. “Is that snow?”
“Why yes. Yes, it is. I believe they have it in New Hampshire too. You know, white stuff. Falls from the sky. Accumulates in the driveway and is a pain in the ass to shovel?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. How much fell overnight?”
“About six inches. It’s why the tent is so warm this morning. Stuff’s a great insulator. Eskimos knew what they were doing building igloos.”
“This is cozy?” Chas squawked.
Gunner laughed. “God, you’re fun to camp with.”
“Fuck off,” Chas bit out.
“Can I interest you in driving to town for a hot breakfast? Maybe a nice stack of pancakes slathered in maple syrup?”
Gunner remembered that was his favorite breakfast of all time? “I don’t know whether to be charmed that you remember I love pancakes or livid that you’re trying to sweet-talk me after making me sleep in a tent in a blizzard.”
“I vote for charmed. I am a charming guy, after all.”
Chas tried to stay mad, but when packing up the tent devolved into a snowball fight that he lost hopelessly, he ended up laughing as hard as Gunner. Rosy-cheeked, his hands wet and half-frozen by the time the tent was packed up and stowed in the trunk, he realized he was happy as Gunner drove away from the campsite.
Happy was not a state he often associated with himself. He managed cozy on a reasonably regular basis. Satisfied with a good day’s work. Occasionally he even got to content. But happy? Joyous? Thrilled to be alive and with this man at this moment?
Impulsively, he leaned across the car and grabbed Gunner by the neck, planting a big, sloppy kiss on his mouth.
“What was that for?”
“I love you, dude.”
Oh, holy God. The words were out of his mouth before he knew they were coming. He hadn’t even had that thought consciously, but the words just spilled out.
Gunner’s face froze into a mask of shock.
Should he retract the statement? Make a joke out of it? Pretend he’d never said it? His brain locked up, and by the time he decided to blow it off as a casual comment, Gunner had turned to face the road and was staring straight ahead with robotic concentration.
Shit, shit, shit.
Chapter Sixteen
GUNNER SQUEEZED the steering wheel like it was a cobra and he was choking it to death. Chas loved him. Love. Goddamn.
Love.
The big L. The real deal. Serious. Adulting. Commitment.
Shit, shit shit.
He was supposed to say it back, right? Wasn’t that how it worked? But did he even know if he loved Chas? Sure, he’d loved him like a brother forever. Loved him as a friend. But that wasn’t what Chas was talking about.
It felt as if the rules of the game had suddenly changed. Instead of playing the football he was familiar with, he found himself in a rugby game with only the faintest idea what the hell was going on, where he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do. Hell, maybe this was a cricket match. He had no idea how that game worked.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. They ordered food at a local diner, gulped it down, paid the check, and hit the road. They barely spoke two words to each other the whole time. Gunner knew why he was freaked-out, but why was Chas freaked-out?
Although it was not as if he was about to ask Chas to clarify on his earlier declaration of love.
He stared at the road, not really seeing it, driving on autopilot. His mind raced in circles. Did he love Chas? How would he know if he did? Was there some test for it? Would he feel different? Act differently? Did it come to a person like a revelation—boom, all of a sudden it was there?
Wasn’t he at least supposed to say thank you or something in response to Chas’s declaration? God, he sucked at this relationship stuff. No doubt he had feelings for Chas. Big ones. Deep ones. Adding sex to their relationship had totally changed the equation and left him not knowing at all how things worked between them anymore. It had always been so easy being best friends. They could talk about anything, were always there for each other no matter what. Had he sacrificed all of that for the sex?
He turned down Chas’s offer to drive, preferring to keep busy concentrating on the road winding ever deeper into the Rocky Mountains. Winter had come to the higher elevations, and snow lined the roadways and coated the slopes around them in black-and-white relief. Only the deep, faded green of the pine trees interrupted the stark, photo-like contrasts. As they neared the Continental Divide, even the pine trees gave way to just snow and rock—white on black, light on shadow.
He headed more north than west as the roads allowed, making his way toward Wyoming. He’d never been to Yellowstone National Park, and now was as good a time as any to see it. It lay at the junction of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming and took most of the day to get to, given the back roads they took when they could and the poor condition of the main roads when they were forced onto them.
Dusk was falling as they pulled into a magnificent lodge just outside the park, a huge log structure decorated with rustic furnishings and exceptional taste. Even Gunner could tell it was a classy place. Chas made a quiet “Ohhh” as they stepped into the lobby.
“I figure I owe you a night at a nice place after forcing you to camp last night,” Gunner said gruffly.
“I’d hate for this place to get shot up, though,” Chas muttered under his breath.
“Even if the bad guys figure out we’re here, they won’t be able to get here tonight. This isn’t the easiest or fastest place in the world to get to.”