Page 19 of Camping with the Boss
“You told me you didn’t know how to camp?—”
“I said I don’t like camping. And I don’t. I hate it.”
That doesn’t make sense, but I ignore it for now. “You told me you were afraid of going outside.”
“Listening is an important skill for a manager. And you really suck at it, Wade. I don’t like going outside, but I’m not afraid of it. And I’m not a fan of people in general. But the camping thing—my parents loved to camp. That’s all we ever did.” He steps closer, his brows scrunched. “Does the retreat have a guide?”
“Not unless River hired one.”
He stares at me. “Does anyone coming to this retreat actually know how to camp?”
I’m not sure. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction by saying that. I cross my arms. “How hard can it be?”
“Oh my God.” He laughs and wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Chapter Five
Canyon
Monday, June 9th, 4:30 p.m.
Mr. Darian—no, he said I could call him Wade during the retreat—complains most of the drive about the meeting setting us back. I drown it out after a while. The closer we get to the campsite, the more I realize this is a big mistake. It’s been ten years since I’ve been anywhere close to the woods. And I’d happily go another ten years.
The more I focus on it, the more aware I am of how fast I’m breathing. I try to slow down by taking deep breaths. But then I’m assaulted by Wade’s cologne. Why does he need to smell good in the damn woods?
It’s easier though. Easier to fight my stupid attraction to this stupid man than to fight the memories of the last time I went camping. The last time I saw my parents.
“Why are you slowing down? In the passing lane?” Wade yells at an unsuspecting motorist. “Learn how to drive.” He pulls closer and the car in front of us must get the hint because they move into the right-hand lane. Normally, I don’t like aggressivedrivers. But for some reason, I feel safe with Wade. His bark is worse than this bite…
And now I’m thinking of his bite and where I’d like to be bitten.
This is torture. Great. I’ve signed up for a torture retreat. Work through grief and childhood trauma all in one go and get extra torture points by practicing self-control so you don’t jump your hunky boss.
Not that I’d ever indulge in my fantasies. That would require exposing myself and my scars.
Not that Wade would ever be interested in me. The desire in his eyes earlier had to be a trick of the light.
Sleeping with my boss is not even in the realm of possibility.
And if by some miracle Wade were interested, I can’t risk my temporary job and my brother’s real job for hot sex with my hot boss. And even though I have nothing else to compare it to, I instinctively know it would be hot.
But it wouldn’t be worth losing our home.
Crashing on Alex’s couch is not appealing. I snort. How ridiculous is it that I’m talking myself out of something that would never happen in a million years? Wade Darian is way the heck out of my league.
“What’s so amusing?” He shifts his gaze from the road to me. Winter gray. The color of his eyes changes with his mood. And right now, they’re not exactly cold. Sharp. With white specks that spread to the darker edges. He blinks and once again focuses on the traffic that thins out the farther we get from the city. “Canyon?”
My face heats and I stare at the cup holder. Safe. Almost safe. His hand reaches for the energy drink. His strong fingers wrapping around the?—
“Canyon?” His sharp tone breaks through my senseless spiraling. “What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing. I—” But what can I say? “Nothing.”
I’m actually relieved when we reach the campgrounds. Until Wade parks the car and turns it off. The area is beautiful. The main building is an A-frame log cabin. But there are smaller cabins in the distance and worn paths leading to them. Beautiful oak and ash trees. A lake with canoes. I’m relieved it’s more than just tents in the woods, which is what I envisioned, but anxiety creeps under my skin. This was a bad idea.
I’m not sure I can even get out of the car.
“Meredith needs to control every little thing,” Wade says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. “And now we’re late?—”
