A Sweet Mess Read online

  Aubrey gathered all the blankets under one arm and carried the grocery bag in her free hand. When Landon pulled out the cooler, his back and biceps flexing, her trunk was empty at last. She dropped off her armload in his trunk and hid her keys in the Jeep’s glove compartment, then hesitated. She doubted anyone would happen upon it, but she took her vehicle registration and insurance documents just in case.

  “Which way?” Landon said once they were both seated and buckled up.

  “You see that fork in the road a few yards away?”

  “No, I see trees and dirt.”

  “Fine.” She sighed a short ha. The universal sound of forbearance. “You see where the trees thin a little in two directions? Go left and follow the road.”

  “Are you sure we won’t drive off a cliff?”

  “No,” she said morosely. “Prepare to plunge to your death.”

  Landon’s laughter filled the car as he maneuvered through the narrow, bumpy path, and Aubrey couldn’t hold back her smile. She was in a ridiculous situation of her own making, and being surly to the man who’d dropped everything to come to her rescue was plain rude of her.

  “Wait,” she said in a hushed tone, her pulse kicking into a sprint. His intent didn’t dawn on her until they reached the campsite. “You’re not planning on staying, are you?”

  “How else are you going to get to Bosque Verde tomorrow?” His brows dipped low over his eyes. He was obviously reassessing her IQ.

  Aubrey frowned back, questioning her intelligence herself. He had the only working car between them. Of course he was staying. He stepped out of the car, and she did the same before he could come around and open the door for her.

  A campfire dinner with stars spilling out of the sky. A shared conversation—softened to a whisper in deference to the majesty of nature. Knees brushing, fingers tangling, and … Sweet Lord. She could not endure a night in the woods with him.

  “Do you even have camping gear?” she asked.

  “I didn’t exactly have time to pack before coming to rescue you.”

  “Rescue me? Oh, please.” She couldn’t pull off her blasé attitude since he did kind of rescue her. “Either way, you don’t have any camping gear. No gear, no camping. Let’s just drive to Bosque Verde now.”

  “You and I drove close to three hours to get here. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity to unwind?”

  “But … but…”

  “Do you have a tent?”

  Aubrey nodded while trying to figure out what game he was playing.

  “I’m sure you could fit one more person in it.” Landon squinted at the sky. “We should set up before the sun goes down.”

  “It could get into the forties at night,” she said, her voice pitched louder than necessary. “You’ll freeze to death without a sleeping bag.”

  “I doubt you’ll let me die.” Landon perused her body from head to toe and then back to her warm face. Is he planning to use me as a heat pack? He held her gaze for a second too long before turning away. “I saw you bring a stack of blankets from the Jeep. Those should do fine.”

  “Fine,” Aubrey huffed. If he wasn’t nervous about being squished into a tent with her, then neither was she. Well, she was, but she could stop anytime she wanted. Just click off the nervous switch. There. Done.

  You are not irresistible, Landon Kim.

  * * *

  Where the hell are these supposed to go? Landon stared down at the two tent rods in his hands.

  “Let me guess. You weren’t a Boy Scout,” Aubrey said, her laughter trilling like silver bells. “I told you I’ll pitch the tent.”

  He glowered at her. “I’m trying to contribute.”

  He’d never slept in a tent before. Growing up by the beach, he could ride the waves and scuba dive like a semiaquatic mammal. He was also an excellent skier. All in all, he was athletic and outdoorsy—just not a freaking Boy Scout. Does preferring a comfortable bed make me a wimp?

  He sneaked a glance toward Aubrey. She’d stopped laughing, but the corners of her mouth trembled suspiciously. For the twentieth time, he wondered what had possessed him to insist on camping. It was rash. Impulsive. He didn’t do rash or impulsive. Not anymore. That was his old self. A chip off the old block. Bitterness-like crushed aspirin-filled him. He blinked rapidly, pushing away uninvited thoughts of his father.

  “You can contribute by making dinner.” Aubrey bit her lips then tucked her chin, doing a very poor job of hiding her amusement.

  “With pleasure,” he said without hesitation.

  Despite his wounded pride, Landon grinned. He enjoyed her laughter even though it was at his own expense. Scraping up what was left of his dignity, he sat on a nearby stump to watch Aubrey work.

  I’m going to cook for her. The realization sneaked up on him with the swiftness of a pickpocket. It happened so quickly, he wasn’t sure how to feel. All these years, he’d refused to cook for anybody, including himself. His sudden decision to upend his self-imposed rule should’ve left him shaken to the core, or maybe come with a life-altering epiphany. Instead, he felt calm as though cooking for Aubrey was the most natural thing to do.

  While Landon processed his decision, Aubrey had the tent set up in fifteen minutes flat. He whistled under his breath. “I can see you’ve done that a few times.”

  “When I was little, my dad used to whisk me away for impromptu camping trips.” She stilled for a second, then shrugged. “And living in Weldon, it’s hard not to take advantage of the outdoors. It’s practically in your backyard.”

  Landon pursed his lips. Another one with daddy issues? He shelved away the question for another day to address a more pressing issue. The tent was about the size of his coat closet with a lower ceiling.

  “Do you think I’ll fit in there?” he asked. He didn’t mind squeezing into a tiny tent with Aubrey, but keeping his hands off her would be torture.

  “Don’t worry. Guys bigger and taller than you have slept in it without trouble.”

  He gave himself whiplash, snapping his head toward her. Her profile told him nothing of her intent, but imagining Aubrey with big, tall men rubbed him the wrong way. Rubbed him raw. Goddamn it. Was he jealous? No, because that would be ridiculous.

  “If you say so.” He contorted his face into what he hoped was a smile. “Thanks for saving me from sleeping like a pretzel in my car.”

  “Sure thing, I guess. You sort of invited yourself.” Her grin softened the bite of her words, and his lips spread into a genuine smile. They stood grinning at each other until Aubrey abruptly broke eye contact and glanced at the sky. “We should get the campfire going. It’ll get dark soon.”

  “On it.”

  He went to his Alfa Romeo and grabbed a bundle of firewood Aubrey had brought. She tugged out a small folding table beside him. After scouting for a spot, she set up the cooking gear on the table for their makeshift kitchen. Meanwhile, Landon rummaged through the rest of the provisions and grocery bags with feigned nonchalance. He couldn’t find the lighter for the campfire.

  Her brows drawn together, Aubrey stood from her log as though to help, and Landon’s search grew frantic. He’d rather rub two damp branches all night than ask her for the fucking lighter. His humiliation quota was filled for the day. Then he saw it. The damned thing was hidden between some popcorn and marshmallows. When he straightened with a handheld lighter wearing a Howdy Doody grin, Aubrey doubled over with laughter, pretending to have a coughing fit.

  “I could find you a flint and a rock, if you’d prefer,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  After glaring at her with as much indignation as he could muster, he bent to light the fire to hide his grin. He was going to get her back for that. Later. He was busy at the moment. Utilizing his common sense, he crumpled up some newspaper and nestled it inside the piled wood and lit it. After a few minutes, the campfire crackled and burned robustly, and he took a moment to congratulate himself.

  Time to prepare a dinner for two.

  “I c
ould make cassoulet,” he said, digging out chicken and sausage from the cooler.

  He rummaged through the grocery bag and grabbed a couple of cans of beans. There was a random carrot, slightly past its prime, half an onion wrapped in plastic, and a bulb of garlic at the bottom of the bag. She must’ve cleaned out her fridge for her time away from home.

  Landon washed and trimmed the vegetables next to his makeshift cutting board and then reached for the knife. Let’s hope I remember how to use this thing. It was the first time he’d held a kitchen knife since he’d given up his dream. The outdoor setting somehow made the moment feel less intimidating. Campfire cooking was about having fun. There was no reason to take a trip down memory lane. He didn’t need fanfare for his comeback.

  Then he was back. It was where he was meant to be. His hands knew exactly what needed to be done, and he moved without hesitation, grabbing this and throwing in that. When he stopped, a pot of cassoulet was ready to go on the fire. Except for the most important ingredient.

  “Aubrey, you said you had red wine, right?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathy, and her cheeks appeared pink. Wordlessly, she ducked into the tent.

  Did he do something wrong? Shit. He hadn’t said a word to her for twenty minutes, lost in his own world. Aubrey returned and handed him a bottle of red. He opened his mouth to apologize for ignoring her, but she spoke first.

  “I’m starving,” she said, her eyes roaming his face and then dropping to his hands. Then her gaze jerked up and landed on his mouth.

  Oh, God. Did watching him cook turn her on? I should cook something else. Right now.

  “For food. I want food. Not other stuff.”

  Landon stirred some wine into the pot, pretending not to know what she’d meant. He hoped the falling dusk hid his hard-on and that the moment would pass. But Aubrey stood transfixed, her breath coming in quick puffs, and his gaze slid to her parted lips. They were impossible to ignore when he was famished himself. He craved to taste her. Just one kiss.

  “I’d better put the blankets inside for you,” she said with urgency worthy of an alien-invasion announcement. He watched her duck inside the tent with desire twisting his stomach into painful knots. If she’d stayed a second longer, they would’ve been doomed before the first shoot.

  7

  The sun began its slow descent, blanketing the interior of the tent in its muted twilight. Grateful for the seclusion, Aubrey heaved a deep breath but choked before she could exhale. She’d forgotten to bring in the blankets from Landon’s car.

  Crap. She gnawed on her bottom lip and paced the entire four-step length of the tent.

  There was no way she was going back out there. That would be equivalent to announcing she was a horny idiot. Hey, I made up the blanket excuse to get away from you, but I was so turned on that I forgot to grab them.

  With her hands on her hips, Aubrey surveyed the tent as though all her marbles had spilled inside it. After a few deep breaths, she reached a decision. She hated to do it, but there was no other choice. As her father would say, it was the civilized thing to do. Her skin crawled at the thought of the man, but she had to channel the socialite she was raised to be. Chin held high, she lifted the flaps and glided toward the campfire. Landon straightened from the bubbling pot to watch her approach.

  “Do you need some help?” she said.

  That’s right. She was going to pretend nothing happened and hide under the comfortable quilt of politeness. What sexual tension?

  “No, thanks. It just needs to sit and simmer for a few more minutes.” Landon responded with equal politeness in contrast to the knowing smirk playing around his mouth. “Wine?”

  The stars were taking stage in the sky, preparing to steal the night. The crisp mountain air played with the tendrils of her hair and caressed the nape of her neck. One false step and her clothes would melt off. Throwing wine into the mix would be the stupidest thing she could possibly do.

  “Sure. Why not?” Yup. She was a dumbass.

  Aubrey took tiny, measured sips of wine as Landon stood to ladle the cassoulet into some wide mugs. He handed one to her and settled next to her with the other.

  “Be careful. It’s hot.”

  She breathed in the decadent aroma of wine, thyme, and rich, stewed chicken and veggies. The sausages added a smoky layer to the hearty stew, thickened with soft beans. Her mouth watered, and her stomach urged her to face-dive into the bowl. At the risk of burning her tongue, she blew on a heaping spoonful and filled her mouth with cassoulet.

  “I had to improvise quite a bit and make do without some ingredients.” Landon watched her with shy anticipation. “Do you like it?”

  “Ooh me gah,” she groaned as her eyes slid shut. She couldn’t handle more sensory input. The bite of cassoulet burst with a rainbow of flavors and textures that required her undivided attention. Warm, creamy, fragrant, and just a touch salty. It was wonderful—kind of like sublime butter except she could eat bowls of it without censure. “I can’t believe you made this out of the random ingredients I brought. I call dibs on licking the pot clean.”

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said in a warm, intimate voice. His blush melted her heart, and the Smile blinded her.

  Satiated with wine and cassoulet, the campfire lured Aubrey into a sleepy stupor. When Landon put his arm around her and pulled her close, she yawned and tucked her head against his shoulder. His thumb drew small circles on her shoulder, and she nearly purred. Dangerous? Probably, but nothing short of Armageddon was going to make her leave the fleeting haven by his side.

  “Should I tell you a scary story?”

  Aubrey bolted upright and covered both ears. Or a scary story.

  “No. Never. Absolutely not.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Landon chuckled, tugging her hands down. “I just thought that’s what people do when they go camping.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She rubbed the heebie-jeebies from her arms. “I watched The Exorcist when I was ten, and it scarred me for life. I haven’t been able to watch or read or listen to anything evil since then.”

  “I’m with you there. The Exorcist is the creepiest movie ever made.”

  “Right? The kid who could see dead people has nothing on the vomit-spewing, head-spinning girl.” Aubrey shivered. “Now stop talking about it. Or I won’t be able to sleep for weeks.”

  “Sure. Let’s just enjoy the fire.”

  With a soft sigh, Aubrey reclaimed the prime real estate she’d just vacated. Landon draped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer.

  “When I was in high school, a bunch of my friends went camping and took a picture of their bonfire.” His voice was deep and soothing. Aubrey relaxed against him. “But when they developed the picture, there was a man standing inside the flames—”

  “Oof!” Aubrey shoved him away and socked him in the arm. His full-blown laughter sounded delicious and warmed her all the way down to her toes. So she threw another punch at his shoulder for being so freaking hot.

  Before she could pummel him some more, Landon caught one of her wrists in each hand. His grip wasn’t tight but firm enough for her to feel the strength he held in check. She tugged and pulled to test his hold. Futile. Her only two options were headbutting him or biting him. As though he could read her game plan he grinned and wrapped her arms behind her back. Thanks to the momentum of their tug-of-war, Aubrey fell into his arms with a small yelp.

  His laughter and smile faded, and the tenor of their battle shifted, sending a thrill down her spine. The chemical reaction of skin against skin burned their teasing and flirting into ashes, and desire whirled around them. She willed her eyes to shoot poison daggers at him, but they kept trying to flutter shut. Heat spread up her neck and face, and bolts of electricity shot through her veins.

  Landon drew her closer to him, his expression stark and hungry. Releasing her hands, he pulled her flush against him. She should have pushed him away, but she sat transfixed. Inches apart, they brea
thed each other in—frustrated and desperate. Heady forces drew their lips closer, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed by her need for him. And as spontaneously as their chemistry erupted into the atmosphere, it shattered with a sharp crack of a splitting log.

  He dropped his hands and shot to his feet, turning his back to her. The fire had shifted with the wood collapsing on itself, and the dancing flames wove surreal shadows between the trees. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and the muscles in his shoulders and back visibly tensed.

  “I’m going to turn in,” Aubrey said in a small voice. She’d wanted him to kiss her, which was reckless and stupid. You know what’s worse? She was hurt he’d had enough control to stop the train wreck, and disappointment overshadowed the relief she should’ve been feeling.

  Landon pivoted toward her and raised his hand as though to touch her, and her breath caught in her throat. But he dropped his arm to his side, and Aubrey trudged away and slipped inside the tent—churning, contradictory emotions twisting her up. She zipped the entrance shut and sat uncertainly, not knowing what she should do next.

  Her brain finally instructed her to go to sleep. After rubbing some toothpaste on her teeth and scrubbing her face with Cetaphil, she crawled into her sleeping bag and shut her eyes, expecting to toss and turn for hours. But before her mind grew loud with impossible questions, fatigue dragged her into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  The sun flitted through the green walls of the tent. Aubrey cracked open an eyelid and then closed it again, huddling deeper into her sleeping bag. She yawned with lusty abandon and stretched her legs to her tippy toes. Last night had been freakishly cold for the time of year, and the mountain air had frozen the tip of her nose. She loved it. Hiding from the morning chill in her cozy cocoon felt decadent.

  Wait. I’m not alone. Memories of last night rushed back. She bolted upright like a mummy awakening from a sarcophagus. Her warm haven morphed into a constricting bond as she fought to free herself. There was no sign of him in the tent. All she saw was a mountain of blankets.