Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(13)

“Sure as hell is easier to blame them. But there are two sides to every story.”

She nodded against me. “With the truth somewhere in the middle.”

Intrigued that we could talk about our experiences with our exes in an analytical way after such incredible sex and be calm about it, I nudged my knee against hers. “You’ve given a lot of thought to this?”

“No. Only in the last few days. If I made mistakes in my only other serious relationship, I don’t want to repeat them with you.”

I stared up at the tent roof, thinking. “I suppose with mine, I coasted too much. Once we were together, I let the relationship run on autopilot. If there was a lesson I learned from the whole disaster, that would be it. With you, I want to be better. Invest time into us. Never take us for granted.”

She tightened her hold on my hand. “Me too. The investing in us part.” She paused, then her voice lowered. “Before, I think I didn’t invest enough in myself outside of the relationship. Too much revolved around him. But now, things are different. I have my bakery, new friends. The more I have in my life, the more I bring to our relationship.”

I pulled her hand up and kissed her forearm. “You’re perfect. You bring plenty to our relationship.”

She squeezed my hand, then our arms settled back onto my chest. We grew quiet, listening to the chirps of crickets outside. We’d banned talk of our exes on our camping trip, but traveling forward sometimes meant looking back. I hoped we both learned enough from the failure of our previous relationships to make ours succeed.

After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh. “I have to pee.”

I huffed out a laugh as she broke away, stood, and rummaged through our discarded clothing. “There’s a whole forest of ‘pee’ spots to choose from.” I reached over to the corner of the tent, grabbed the new roll of toilet paper we’d brought, and handed it to her. “Want me to stand guard?”

She scowled before tugging my black T-shirt over her head. “While I pee?”

“What if a bear decides your pert little ass looks tasty? He wouldn’t be wrong. It is.” I snapped my teeth.

“Pffft. What makes you think it’s not a girl bear wanting to take a bite?”

I sat up, grabbed my jeans, and pulled them on. “Oh, do you swing that way too?”

She shoved my shoulder, knocking me back down to the sleeping bag.

“Hey, just checking, little miss wild one. I need to learn your boundaries.”

Shirtless but ecstatic about it, since my T-shirt was the only clothing she wore besides her socks and tennis shoes, I stood and grabbed the flashlight before following her out. She went downhill a few paces from our tent, heading toward an old-growth pine as I shined the beam of light at her legs.

I sighed, happy as f*ck. A man could get spoiled with a woman like Hannah. Best friend turned lover, and becoming so much more. Who would’ve thought the woman I’d originally labeled an Ice Queen was sexually adventurous? I never would’ve guessed in a million years.

She faced me, squatted, and stuck her ass out in the opposite direction, pointing downhill. Smart.

A faint splattering sound followed seconds later. She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m letting you watch me pee.”

I crossed my arms, holding the light just away from directly blinding her. “Hey, I’ve watched you do all kinds of things. Peeing is a fact of life. I’m only here to protect you.”

She lifted her brows. “From bears.”

“Exactly.” I scanned the darkness but saw no movement and heard no unusual noises.

“Only male bears, by the way,” she said, her tone absolute. “I don’t swing the other way.”

I glanced back at her and nodded, unsurprised. As time went by, the more I realized we had core beliefs in common. When having sex, we didn’t like to share, or get distracted. “Got it. No marshmallow Peeps, and no mama bears.”

“I am, however, willing to try honey, caramel, and chocolate sauce…”

I grinned. I’d been teasing her for months about the creative use of condiments. It was good to know she still had them on her mind.

“Of course you are.” My lips twisted into a smirk.





6


Limits on Insanity


“Hey, Daniel.”

I nodded my chin toward Hannah’s employee before taking a seat on the couch in Sweet Dreams, Hannah’s cake and cupcake shop. It’d been two days since we’d returned from camping, and I hadn’t seen her since.

She’d been slammed at her bakery, and I respected that she had a life outside of me, but texts and phone calls hadn’t cut it. I missed the f*ck out of her. Which was why I’d offered to pick her up for the meeting with my sisters.

Daniel gave me a chin up back. “Cade. Good to see you. I’ll let Hannah know you’re here.”

I smirked. She already knows. I’d sent her a teasing text the moment I’d parked my motorcycle.

To calm the nervous energy I felt, I fired up my tablet. I was about ten minutes early, which was my OCD norm. And I hadn’t checked emails since yesterday. Today I’d finally sketched out a finished backyard with Mase while Ava, our German Shepherd pup (“our” being Hannah’s and mine, although Mase was essentially Ava’s master and keeper), ran back and forth with a ball, demonstrating a need for grass and better fencing.