The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(53)

My shoulders lifted in a shrug and he pinned me with his bright gaze. I rolled my eyes. “Four. Okay? I brought four books.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. My chest shook with laughter. “I couldn’t decide. They were all sitting there like, Hannah, take us with you! Don’t leave us home alone. It’s sad here. We love you.”

Now, Wyatt was laughing, too. “You’re adorable.”

My blood turned warm and languid, and my laughter trailed off. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my pulse picked up.

He blinked and turned away. “We should keep unpacking.”

“Right.” Unpacking. Not staring at each other and feeling horny.

At one point, when I was carrying my tent from the car, a spider crawled out of it. It was the size of a dime but I still yelped in surprise, dropped the tent, and side-stepped towards Wyatt, whose arm came up around me protectively.

“Sorry.” My face heated.

He squeezed my shoulder. “It’s okay.” He scooped the spider up and moved it to the forest. When he returned, he gestured at my tent. “Your tent is older than we are.”

I nudged the rolled up bundle with my foot in case there was anything else lurking inside. “It is. It’s been in the garage for years. It’s one of those things we’ve always had and I’ve never questioned.”

He nodded, grinning, before he leaned down to unroll it.

I held my hand out to stop him. “I can do that.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Can you grab the newspaper from the truck? I’ll teach you how to make a fire once we set up the tents.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I already know how to make a fire.” My mom had taught me as a kid.

His mouth fell open, crouched over the tent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I guess because you don’t camp anymore—”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “I’m out of practice so might need your help, anyway.” With that, I headed to the truck. When I returned to the clearing with the newspaper in hand, Wyatt wore a funny expression, standing over the tent with his arms crossed.

“Uh, bookworm, we have a problem.” His mouth twisted and he frowned at the tent on the ground.

“What?”

He lifted it to show me.

Where the zipper should have connected to the rest of the tent, there was a big hole. The zipper laid on the ground still.

“It’s ripped?”

“Looks like it.” His voice sounded strange. Kind of tight and he wouldn’t look at me. He just stared at the zipper.

“I should have known. My dad has so much stuff in the garage that he needs to get rid of.” Anything to do with my mom.

Wyatt crouched to roll the tent back up. “You can sleep in my tent.”

I watched his hands as he rolled the fabric. They were tanned from being outside, strong with long fingers. Clean nails. I shivered. Sleeping in Wyatt’s tent. A throb hit me between my legs and I clenched before sending him a tentative glance.

“I’ll sleep in the truck.” He stood up with the tent and walked past me, back to the truck, and I watched him walk away.

Disappointment twinged in my stomach but I waved it away. That wasn’t what this camping trip was about. It was about celebrating Wyatt’s sponsorship. It was about being out in nature because we lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It wasn’t about me being horny every time I thought about Wyatt or caught a whiff of him or imagined his hands leaving marks on my ass.

I know, baby, I know. I heard his words again in my head and I shivered.

Wyatt strode through the trees, so tall and confident in the way he moved. He held a new bundle in his hands, something blue and woven.

“What’s that?”

“This,” he said, shaking the fabric out, “is where you’re going to spend the afternoon.”

It was a hammock. After we selected two sturdy trees with a view of the water, Wyatt and I strung it up and he helped me climb in.

“Lean forward for me,” he said in a low voice, pulling me forward gently in the hammock with a little smile before placing a pillow behind my head. He dropped a blanket over me and tucked it into my sides. “Comfy?”

I nodded with wide eyes and a big smile, and he laughed and walked away. I sunk into the pillow and let myself sway. I could have stayed here forever. The blanket was warm and heavy. Something about Wyatt bringing this for me, tucking me into the hammock and wanting me to lay here and read, it sent warmth through my chest.

Him taking care of me like I was something to be cherished made me never want to leave this campsite. Did he do this for other girls he hung out with? My instincts told me no.

The idea of Wyatt leaving after Pacific Rim made my heart hurt. Floating in the cove wouldn’t be the same without him beside me.

I rubbed my chest and pushed the thoughts from my head.

While I read, Wyatt puttered around the campsite, setting up his own tent and making himself a coffee, asking me if I wanted one. At one point I glanced over and he was sitting back in a camp chair, feet up on the cooler, reading one of the books I had brought with a lazy grin on his face.

Like he was enjoying himself.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes, my book was on the camp chair.

A thwack! Noise caught my attention. I sat up and searched for the source of the noise.