Falling for the Groomsman (Wedding Dare, #1)(34)

She let out a squeal and clung to the bottle. As soon as she was within reach, he snatched it out of her hands and took a hit. Swiping the back of his hand over his lips, he eyed her. She fluttered her lashes at him. “I don’t mind it when you do it.”

“Yeah.” He took another swig and handed it back. “I know that, too.”

“You think know everything, don’t you?”

He shook his head, studying her in the firelight. “About some things? Sure. But I don’t know enough about the things that matter.”

Oh, God. He was talking about her, wasn’t he? Her heart picked up speed and raced off into the shadowy woods. Swallowing hard, she peeled the corner of the sleeping bag back. “This thing is big. I bet we can both fit. Climb in.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He eyed her as if he wanted to take her up on his offer, but he looked away and held his hands out to the fire. “I’ll be good out here. You stay warm.”

She knew what he was doing. He was always so worried about everyone else’s safety and comfort that he never stopped to care for his own. If he got in, she might be cramped. So…he wouldn’t. Well, with her, that wouldn’t fly. “You’ll get in the sleeping bag, or I’ll refuse to stay in it.”

“You wouldn’t.” He turned to her and scanned her face. “You’d freeze your pretty little ass off. An ass I happen to love.”

“You better save it. Either we’re both comfortable, or we’re both cold. It’s that simple.”

“There’s no way we’ll both fit in there, Red,” he said, his voice low. “We’d be plastered to each other all night long, unable to move a single limb. I could kick your ankle and hurt you again. It’s not happening.”

“I can handle that risk.” She tipped the edge back more. “Can you? Or are you scared?”

He raised a brow. “Do I look like I get f*cking scared to you?”

“Prove it. Get in.”

“Why do you care so much?” He dragged a hand through his hair with a quick motion. “I told you not to worry about me.”

“You’re always so busy seeing to everyone else’s comfort.” She cocked her head to the side. “Who worries about you?”

“No one, but I don’t need anyone to.”

“Yes, you, do,” she said, holding his gaze. “We all do, sometimes. Get. In.”

He took a deep breath, mumbled something under his breath, and crawled up to her. After handing her the bottle, he slid inside. He was right. They were glued to each another, from head to toe. Or more like from head to calf, since her toes reached halfway down his leg. “There. Happy now?”

“Nope.” She set aside the booze, her head spinning from the effects of the alcohol on her mostly empty stomach, and rested her head on his arm. “Not yet.”

He wrapped his free arm around her waist and sighed. “What do you want now?”

“This.” She held the bar she’d grabbed before he joined her between their faces. “Eat it for me.”

He clenched his jaw. “I told you, I’ll eat when I’m ready. Honestly, I think my hunger wore off hours ago.”

“And I told you that I’m worried about you, whether you want me to be or not.” She poked him in the chest. “So you’ll eat it and you’ll like it, damn it, because I care.”

His mouth softened, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. “Red. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll eat it.” She unwrapped it and shoved it under his nose. “It’s open now. It’ll go bad if you don’t.”

He let out an aggravated sigh, but the amusement in his eyes ruined the annoyed effect he was going for. “You’re a lot more stubborn than I remember you being.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She wiggled the bar under his nose. “Now eat.”

He let go of her, snatched it out of her hand, and took a big bite. “Have you always been this bossy?”

“No. I kind of grew into it with age.” She lifted a shoulder and rested her hands against his chest. “My turn to ask a question.”

He arched a brow and swallowed. “Are we making this a game?”

“Sure, why not? I don’t think there’s anything good on television tonight anyway,” she said, gesturing toward the fire. “Do you like being a doctor?”

He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I love helping people. Healing people. I get a bigger thrill out of going overseas to help people who can’t find clean water, let alone quality health care.”

“Do you—?”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Slow down there, Ms. Journalist. It’s my turn to ask a question.”

Her stomach tightened when he ran his finger down her lower lip, his eyes on her mouth. He looked like he was debating kissing her. All she could think was: heck yeah, do it. “Go ahead.”

She wasn’t sure if she was giving him permission to kiss her or ask her a question, but he seemed determined to do the latter. “How many men have you been with since me?”

She choked on a laugh. “And here I was being nice with an easy question.”

“I’m not nice like you,” he said. “Answer me.”