Page 10 of Picture This

Our host was staying in his own tent, far enough away to give us privacy but close enough to be around if we needed anything. Maybe I could beg him to trade spots with me, just so I could have some space from Jake.

“Who’s Mark?” Jake asked.

“The host. He drove us up here.”

“Are you sure his name isn’t Matt?”

“I’m sure.” Not only had I paid attention when he’d introduced himself, but Mark was wearing a freaking name tag.

“Whatever.” Jake took another drink, eyes drifting once more on my legs.

I stood, tugging down the frayed hem of my shorts, and bolted for my tent, feeling Jake’s gaze on my ass as I hurried inside to hide. “Ugh.”

How could I get out of this camping trip? Could I fake food poisoning? A migraine?

“Delylah.” The flaps whipped open, and Emily stormed inside, her face red.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Luca.” She’d refilled her champagne and took a gulp. “He’s not loving this experience.”

“We’ve only been here for an hour.”

“He’s worried about missing a call or an email.”

“But he’s on vacation. It’s your wedding.”

Luca worked for his family’s business, and I was fairly certain everyone at their company knew he was getting married this weekend.

“Exactly what I told him. Whatever.” She flicked a wrist. “So what’s your problem with Jake?”

“The list is long. I’m not sure we have that much time.”

Her lips pursed. “Delylah.”

“Well, he’s pushy. Arrogant. Snobby.” I ticked each item off by tapping a finger. “Do I need to keep going? Because I can.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Come on. Just give him a chance. Luca says he’s a great guy. And how cute of a story would it make if you got together because of my wedding?”

She’d mentioned that twice now, and I was starting to think this setup was more about the weekend than it was me. Did she want me to fall in love, or was she more enamored with the idea of it happening at her wedding?

“Em, I’m not interested. I’m sorry. He’s not my type.”

“You always say that.”

“Because you keep setting me up with the same type.”

“I don’t think you even know your type,” she said, tipping the glass to her lips.

Oh, I knew my type—Noah.

“Why are you so insistent on me and this guy?”

“Because you already turned down the others.”

“So?”

“So.”