Dax’s mouth tips into a sad smile like he can relate.
“I’m a risk taker in every other sense. I’ve picked up and moved away a dozen times. Half of those times I moved out of state. I thought I was following my passion, but now that I look back… I don’t know. It’s like I was looking for something I never found.”
“Not all those who wander are lost,” he quotes.
“I’ve heard that. I’m not sure it applies to me.”
“Are you lost?”
“I’m living with my brother with no move-out date since I’m not sure where I’d go. He offered me the position at Grand Lark, and I decided it’d be sufficient until I figure out what the hell I want to do with my life.”
“Have you?”
“No.” I feel a frown crease my brow as I watch the fire. “But I feel closer to figuring it out.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dax smile.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing’s funny. Doesn’t sound like you were lost while you were doing that wandering. Sometimes you have to wander far away to know that the right thing was always close to home.”
“That’s some Wizard of Oz wisdom.”
“It’s a wise movie.”
We fall into silence and watch the flames.
“I guess...” I pause, realizing that I’ve arrived at a conclusion. “I’ve always wanted to feel safe enough with someone to have more than a hookup or a surface relationship. But I never allowed myself to explore more. It always felt scary. Too big. I didn’t want to lose myself before I figured out who I was.”
“You’re cringing,” Dax points out. “Was that a big admission?”
“A monster.” The glow of orange from the fire dances on the sharp planes of his jaw, his cheekbones. He’s so much more than an attractive face. A pang of loss followed by a swell of gratitude comes when I realize that had it not been for that storm, we never would’ve had this conversation.
“Do you feel safe, Bec? With me?”
“Yes. I do.”
He straddles the log and then pulls me close. My back to his chest, I feel strong arms band around my middle. He kisses my temple while holding me like I’m precious. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am.
We sit like that for a while, watching the fire burn through the new log and then reduce to small flames that barely throw off heat.
“Time to make our bed, before you catch hypothermia.”
Dax’s deep voice startles me. I was drifting off, I think. I sit away from his chest and he stands and stretches his long body.
“Can I help?” My voice is groggy. I must’ve been asleep.
“Nah, I’ve got it. You just sit there and look pretty.” His smile is tired. I really should help. A brisk wind cuts through the field and lifts my hair, and I pull the blanket tighter.
Sitting here and looking pretty while he readies our bed doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.
Chapter 17
THURSDAY, THE WEE HOURS
Becca
“Warm?” Dax’s sleep-heavy voice cuts into my brain.
“Mm-hm,” I hum, snuggling against him. I’m wearing leggings, socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He’s in boxers and a T-shirt, and throwing off as much heat as a furnace.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I dozed.” I reach an arm out of the sleeping bag, atop two layers of thick blankets, and grab my water bottle. I tuck my arm, bottle included, back into my cocoon quickly. “I thought it was supposed to be warm by now! I’m freezing.”
“It’s not summer yet, Princess. And it’s worth it.”
I sip my water. I offer him some and he accepts, before stashing the water bottle on his side of the Jeep this time.
“You’re right. It’s worth it,” I admit. “It’s gorgeous out here.”
He wraps an arm around me and I rest my cheek on his chest. The stars are out in full force, perfectly visible in the deep navy sky stretched over the field.
“What are you going to do when you get back to Ohio?” I ask.
“Work. Kick Barrett out of my house. The usual.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You’re a good friend to let him stay with you.”
“I guess.”
Dax is a good person. Probably a great person. And next to him, in his arms, snuggling deep in a thick sleeping bag, my mind has wandered out of normal territory and right into treacherous territory. I haven’t made a habit of really getting to know the guys in my life. And before you judge me, let me remind you that guys do it all the time. I’m selective, but I know how to scratch an itch. I also know how to escape before one of us has to have a conversation involving the words “We have to talk.”
Yet here I am. I’m the one who turned up at Dax’s door again and again, proving that I can’t keep out of harm’s way. Like a curious mouse lured by cheese in a trap...
“What about you? What will you do when I go home?”
“Work. Sleep indoors. The usual,” I quip. In truth, I’ve been thinking about this since I opened my eyes however many minutes ago. What will I do when he goes home? Miss him, I imagine.
A puff of air from his nose might be a weak laugh. I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing. I wonder if, in the wee hours, out in the woods, it’s safe to tell him what’s on my mind. Why not?
“Will you date?” I blurt.
He pulls in a deep breath. To buy time? His chest expands, lifting me with it, since my face is resting on his rib cage.
“Never dated much as it was, Princess,” he says, which isn’t an answer.
“Will you date?” His voice is quiet. “Pick up a stranger at Grand Lark’s bar and show up on his cabin doorstep?”
I pinch his side in admonishment. “You were my first and likely my last Grand Lark hookup, Dax Vaughn.”
His palm rubs up and down my arm soothingly, and soon after my eyelids grow heavy. Before I overthink it, I tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
“I don’t think I’ll find another you up in these mountains unless it’s actually you returning for another vacation.” My heart pounds under the weight of that admission. It’s unlikely that we’ll wait for each other—or that we’ll date long distance. The geographical distance isn’t insurmountable, but what about the emotional distance?
“You have to come visit me next,” he says, pretty as you please. “Your name’ll be on the menu and you’ll have to do a quality check to make sure my cook didn’t screw up your quesadilla. You never told me what you charge, by the way.”
That transition was as smooth as a fresh jar of Skippy.
“I’m not sure what to charge you.”
“Google some chefs for hire. Find what feels fair and bill me. I’ll double it and pay you.”
“Dax, I don’t want you to overpay me.” I rest my forearms on his chest and look down at him. He brushes my hair from my face before tucking it behind my ear. Such a sweet move. He has a lot of those. That Courtney girl was an idiot for leaving him if he was even half this attentive with her.