“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome.” Her arms tighten around my waist as she tilts her head back to look up at me, her skin glowing in the firelight. “Let’s never fight again, okay? Or at least not for a long, long time.”
“Why would anyone fight with an angel like you?” I ask with a grin.
Lark narrows her eyes, but her lips stretch into a smile. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’m the woman who just made you sit in a car blindfolded and sweating for three hours. I might be more devil than angel tonight.”
“Nope. You’re a good one, Lark, I don’t care what all those other people say.”
She laughs. “People don’t say a thing, Mason Stewart.”
“They don’t know you like I do.”
“Oh yeah?” She leans closer, her soft curves pressing against me, making my head spin. “So you think I’m a little devilish after all?”
My pulse beats faster. “Maybe. A little.”
“Speaking of devilish, you know what I miss?”
“What?” I murmur.
“Your truck,” she says in a low voice. “We had some good times in that truck.”
I remember those good times, every single second of them. Every time we spread out the sleeping bags in the bed of my old red Chevy, every kiss, every caress, every time she leaned back her head and sighed as my lips trailed down her throat.
“I’ll trade my car in for something with a tailgate first thing tomorrow morning,” I say, meaning every word.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to my cheek before adding in a whisper, “I do have an apartment of my own, you know. I don’t live with Mom and Dad anymore. I’m just staying over to help Aria with the baby while they’re out of town.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, skimming one hand up and down the length of her back.
“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get to see my new digs someday,” she says in a teasing voice as she spins out of my arms and starts around the fire. “Come on. Grab a couple of bowls from the bag by the cooler, I’m starving.”
Until a moment ago, I was starving, too. But now all I can think about is being alone with Lark in her apartment, in her bedroom…in her bed. I stand staring, imagining the firelight flickering over her bare skin, knowing she’d be so beautiful it would hurt to look at her, thinking about what part of her I’d kiss first, where my hands would—
“Mason?” she asks. “Bowls?”
I blink. “Right. Bowls.” I jerk into motion, forcing my thoughts back to food and campfires, letting my hand linger in the cooler for a few moments in hopes the ice closing around my fingers will help cool me off.
It works.
Mostly.
“So where are we?” I ask after we settle into two chairs close to the fire.
“My land. I bought it last year. I’m hoping to save up enough money to build a cabin up here in the next year or two.”
“That’s amazing.” I look around the land with new interest. “You always said you wanted to live out in the boonies.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t live here. Most of my business is in Bliss River or Atlanta, so it would be a big commute. But I’ll be able to come here on weekends and vacations.”
I nod as I dig into Lark’s homemade stew, moaning in appreciation. “Damn, this is good.”
She smiles. “It should be. I’m a professional now, you know.” She scoops up a spoonful and reaches for a roll from the paper plate on top of the cooler.
“I know. You should be proud. Starting your own business isn’t easy these days.”
“Thanks.” She lifts her eyes, meeting mine. “It was a ton of work, but it gave me something to focus on after you left.”
For the first time, she mentions me leaving without any anger or sadness or resentment in her voice. It’s simply a fact. A fact that’s in our past, leaving the future open for something more.
Something better.
Things are really different now. I can feel it. The air between us is lighter, our conversation freer, and as the night goes on, Lark doesn’t hesitate to touch my arm, lean against me, let me brush the crumbs from her lips or rest my hand on her thigh as she drives.
By the time she pulls back into the hotel parking lot, I’m feeling brave enough to reach across the car, cup her soft cheek in my hand, and—
“Wait,” she whispers, holding two fingers up between our mouths, keeping my lips from hers. “Not tonight.”
I sink back into my seat, trying not to look disappointed. “Whatever you want.”
“It’s not what I want,” she says, her hand coming to rest on my arm. “I just think it’s for the best. Once I start kissing you…”
“What?” I ask.
“I have a feeling I’m not going to want to stop,” she says in a husky voice that makes me ache in new and powerful ways.