“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she half laughs-half squeals.

“I could’ve sworn there was an insult to my manhood in there somewhere.”

I swing her around again, her legs flying out in front of us. “No, there wasn’t! I just said that I wish I was useful.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I say, setting her on her feet.

“It’s not my fault you’re old,” she mutters playfully.

“Oh, you really are asking for it.” I turn her around in my arms and bend her back over them, teasingly biting at her throat. She giggles and arches her neck, grabbing at my shoulders with her hands.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get your attention,” she replies hoarsely.

I lift my head and look down into her face. “All you have to do is look my way and you’ve got my attention. My full attention.”

Laney’s blue eyes are light and sparkly and . . . happy. “And I can’t ask for more than that,” she says softly, staring up at me. She reaches up and touches my cheek with her fingertips, her smile fading into seriousness. “Jake, I . . .”

Like hitting the panic button, her words trigger a marked response in me. “Come on,” I begin, hauling her upright. “We need to get this camp set up before it gets much later. We should be at the river, fishing for supper, in a couple of hours.”

Laney nods, her smile bright once again. Almost too bright, in fact. And I can tell by the way she tucks her hair behind her ear that she’s a little off-kilter.

Back at the Jeep, I hand Laney small things as I unpack them, telling her where they go.

“The way the fire pit is positioned, we’ll put the tent over there,” I say, pointing to the edge of the clearing that backs up to the ravine. I hand her the bound tent and poles. “Just set it over there. We’ll put the cooler and kitchen-related stuff to the right and the two chairs in front of that ring of rocks. Inside that is where the fire will be.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” she says, giving me a sassy salute as she prisses off with the tent.

“That’s a little more like it. I love a woman that knows her place.” Laney looks back over her shoulder and sticks out her tongue at me. “Do that again and see what happens,” I tease. Rather than give me some pithy reply, she just keeps moving.

I watch her as she walks to the place I indicated and lays the tent down then turns to make her way back. She stops to dust something off her shorts, drawing my attention to her amazing legs. I immediately picture them wrapped around my waist, Laney’s head thrown back, her nipples pointing at the sky, her tight body settled around me, and I wonder what she was going to say. Would she have told me she loves me? Or was it nothing like that at all? Although it would be a disaster for both of us if she had, I must admit that I like the thought of her being mine. All mine. Body, heart, and soul.

But that would be a disaster.

Especially for her.

After the Jeep is unloaded, I get the rubber mallet. We spread out the tent and I start pounding in stakes. Laney helps me when I need it and, otherwise, busies herself setting up the little table we brought to keep food stuff off the ground. Although I can’t hear her, I can tell by the set of her mouth that she’s humming. She does that often when she’s doing something domestic, I’ve noticed. Obviously, it makes her happy. Yet another reason she doesn’t need me in her life. I’m far from domestic.

When the tent is set up, I unzip it and hold open the flap for Laney to crawl inside. I try not to look too long at her perfect ass or think about the fact that she’s down on all fours, the perfect position for me to sweep in and take her from behind.

My dick twitches inside my shorts, so I make a point to think of something else. Anything else.

“Hand me the sleeping bags,” she says before I can duck inside.

I get the two rolls and toss them in to her before I join her inside the little dome. I watch as she rolls them out straight, side by side. Looking at them, I realize that I object. And not for sexual reasons. Chances are, we’ll have sex in dozens of places and not one of them might be inside those sleeping bags. But that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t like the thought of not being able to feel her curled up at my side, like she’s been every night for a couple of months now.

“If you unzip one and lay it out flat, we can zip the other one on top of it and make it a double,” I propose.

“Oh, that’s smart,” she says, moving to do what I suggested. “That way we can share body heat.”

“Yeah, if you say so,” I murmur.

She looks at me over her shoulder and grins. “Among other things.”

“That’s more like it,” I say.

With the bags set up properly, she turns toward me. “Now what?”

I don’t think she’s trying to be provocative. With Laney, I don’t think she ever really tries. She just is. Everything she does is sexy as hell and makes my dick as hard as a chunk of granite. My . . . appetites have always been pretty voracious, but with Laney, they’re even worse. I just can’t seem to get enough of her.

“I can think of so many ways to answer that question, but I guess we’d better get down to the river.”

“Whatever you say, Davey Crockett,” she responds pluckily as she bends forward to crawl past me. This time, I have to grit my teeth as she passes me.

It’s dark. Laney and I are sitting in front of the fire. She’s between my legs, leaning back against my chest. We just finished our hot dogs. “Those were for an emergency, you know. Just in case we didn’t get much out of the river.”

Laney shrugs. “How was I supposed to know it would bother me so badly? I told you I’d never been fishing. It’s not like Daddy is exactly outdoorsy.”

“But Laney, God put fish here for us to eat. People would’ve starved to death in the old days if the women were like you.”

She tilts her head to one side and looks back at me. Her eyes are big, soulful drops of sky blue that glisten in the firelight.

“Maybe they didn’t go. Maybe their men just brought them back fish filets to throw in a skillet and cook.” She nods as if that explains it all.

I shake my head and sigh. “Maybe. All I can say is thank God for hot dogs.”

She grins and rests her head back against my shoulder. “Thank you for throwing the fish back.”

“I think it’s weird that you’d rather eat Porky Pig than a damn cold fish, but . . .”

“I didn’t have to catch and kill Porky Pig. That’s the difference.”

“You’re such a girl,” I say mildly.

“And you’re such a guy.”

“Damn straight.”

“But that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The men are the ones who are supposed to be okay with doing these heartless things. The women are the ones that stay back at camp to patch up skinned knees and dry tears.”

“I can see you doing that.”

“Can you really?” she asks, looking back at me again.

“Definitely. Sometimes I get the feeling you’re trying to do that to me.”

“Do what to you?”

“Patch me up.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No. I just don’t want you wasting your time on a project like me. Some things can’t be fixed, Laney, no matter how much you wish they could.”

“Maybe you just need to let someone try.”

“You think?” I respond casually, looking away from her eyes.

“I do.”

“Well, if you wanna know what I think, it’s that we need some marshmallows. What say you?”

Her lips curve into a smile, but it’s a sad one.

“Marshmallows sound good.”

The mood is a little somber as we peel down the tips of the green sticks we used to roast our hot dogs to make way for marshmallows. Several times, I find myself glancing over at Laney, watching her fingers work, admiring how satiny her skin looks in the flickering light.

If I’m being honest, I know she’s developing feelings for me. I should’ve put a stop to this a couple weeks ago when I started suspecting. But the truth is, I didn’t want to. Still don’t. Why? Because I’m a selfish bastard.