Page 90 of The Quit List
“Wieners okay?” Jax calls to me, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Sorry?!” I sputter.
He laughs. “For supper. My plan was to roast wieners over the fire. That work for you?”
I gulp as he uses his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yup. Wieners are… good.”
“Great. I’m almost done here, then we can get started on cooking.”
“Perfect, I was… uh…” Standing here staring at you for the past goodness knows how long? “Grabbing my camera! Wanted to snap a nighttime shot of the deck with the lights glowing.”
I dash into the cabin and grab my camera, and then take a few frames of the twinkling deck. I also take a surreptitious shot of shirtless Jax in front of the fire, swinging that ax to split the last pieces of wood. This one will be perfect for Instagram, because in my opinion, Jax is the face of this company, and while his experience and gentle but firm persona will draw people to book with him, his face and physique won’t hurt either. That much, I’m sure of.
Jax gets the fire going even stronger, and I set up camp chairs in front of the crackling flames. Rick is happily dozing in his own chair, face angled towards the warmth. I wrap myself up in one of Jax’s flannel coats. Because yes, he was right—it’s freezing out here at night. And yes, it smells as woodsy and delicious as he does and I can’t stop inhaling his scent as it surrounds me like an embrace.
As we sit by the blazing fire and cook hot dogs, which we then eat right off the roasting sticks like barbarians (a story I fully plan on recounting at the next Greene Family Game Night—Mindy will be proud), I quickly grow warm and full and sleepy and content.
Beyond the flames, we’re shrouded in total darkness, and beyond the fire’s crackle, engulfed in so much silence.
I tilt my head backwards so I can take in the stars again, sprinkled like salt above the towering trees. “I feel like we’re the only two people in the universe right now.”
“The backcountry has a habit of doing that to you.”
“I can’t believe you come out here on your own,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’d be petrified of getting brutally murdered.”
I really would. The expansive darkness and the lack of power and cell phone service would have me curled up in a ball and praying for morning to come.
Yet somehow, with Jax with me, I’ve never felt safer.
“You’ve seen one too many horror movies,” he tells me. “There’s nobody here but us.”
“Still,” I press. “Isn’t it nicer to be out here with people?”
The look he gives me is loaded. “Depends on who’s with me.”
“Hopefully the guests pass your litmus test,” I say, swallowing thickly.
“Hopefully.” He smiles softly at the fire. “But in the meantime, I’m glad you’re here, Hollywood.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too. I think we’ve pretty successfully blasted through my quit list. Now, I just need to work on feeling sparks and chemistry with the men I’m dating.”
Like I feel every time I’m with you.
The thought sends a thrill through me, and I stand from my chair and walk towards the fire, holding out my hands to warm them so that I look busy. So the telltale red blush on my face can be passed off as a glow from the fire. Or something.
In my peripheral, I see Jax stand, too. He moves to my side and stands still, a looming presence over me until I finally turn to look at him.
The intensity in his eyes would almost be frightening if it wasn’t so darn… sexy.
He smiles, and it’s like a defibrillator shock to the chest, jolting me to life.
I face him full on, staring up at him so my eyes can travel his face. “What’re you thinking?”
His lips crack into a small smirk, and his eyes seem to linger on my lips. “I’m trying to be better with the whole brutal honesty thing, remember?”
“And I told you, I like when you’re honest with me.”
“Okay, Hollywood. You know what I think?”