Chapter 10

Forty minutes later, we’ve tramped through the woods for what feels like ten miles when Joey decides we should turn around. Here, sheltered from the cold, keeping warm by a crackling fire, he makes us canned chicken noodle soup and toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch. Serving us at the table, he says, “You didn’t know I was a world-renowned chef, did you?”

I chuckle and decide to have a beer with my lunch. I fetch one for him and say, “Campbell’s and American cheese rock.”

“You rock,” he says, reaching across the table to wipe a drop of soup from my upper lip.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a little unsure about him touching me, about this trip to his camp, about how different he is when we’re not at work, and how damn sexy. I quiver at his touch, bloom with a smile, and feel myself melt, unconditionally.