Page 17 of Picture This

“Good idea.” She nodded, looping her arms around my neck.

We were both drenched by the time we made it back to the campsite. I carried her to the largest tent, setting her down so she was out of the rain.

“I’ll go radio the lodge. Let them know we’re making our way back.”

“Wait.” She grabbed my arm before I could dart outside.

I stared down at her, wholly transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

The image of me taking that lip between my own teeth was instant. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to move.

The rain pounding on the canvas filled the silence until she whispered, “Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“What if we didn’t go back? At least, not yet.”

A grin tugged at my mouth. “I’ve always wanted to try glamping.”

Chapter 5

Delylah

The sound of shuffling cards mingled with the steady pitter-patter of rain on the tent.

After we’d made it back to the campsite, he’d brought me my backpack from the other tent. While I’d changed into my sweats, Noah had gone to get the walkie-talkie from his truck, letting the lodge know that we were staying up here for the night.

The two sitting chairs in the corner were draped with the clothes we’d hung out to dry. My chambray shirt. His jacket and jeans. My muddy shoes that had no hope of ever being white again were beside Noah’s boots, just inside the tent’s open flaps.

We’d spent the past hour sitting on the floor, wrapped in blankets, playing poker at the foot of the bed as we waited for the worst of the storm to pass.

My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. Not bad for a day that had all the makings of a disaster.

“Jacks are wild.” Noah dealt us each five cards.

I picked up my hand, schooling my expression as I stared at a full house. “You’re a horrible dealer.”

“And you’re a horrible liar,” he muttered. “Are you taking any cards?”

“Nope.”

“Of course not.” He groaned, swapping three from his hand for three from the deck. Then he tossed them on the floor. “Queen high.”

“Full house.” I laughed. “If only we were playing for money.”

“I can’t afford poker with you.” He stood, letting the blanket pool on the floor as he walked over to the cooler he’d brought in from outside. He crouched beside it, flipping open the lid.

He wore a gray cotton T-shirt that molded to his broad chest and the honed muscles of his back and stomach. Its sleeves strained around his biceps. The hem was long enough to fall to his hips, hiding some of his black boxer briefs. Some, but not all. They fit around his bulky thighs and did nothing to hide the perfect curve of his ass.

Noah Chappel was in his underwear.

This was the best camping trip of my life.

“Hungry?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Starved.” I picked up the cards, letting the curtain of my hair fall in my face, hiding the flush of my cheeks.

If my camera was closer, I’d attempt to sneak a picture.