The Last in Line: Love at Last, Book 3 by Katerina Simms

Author:Katerina Simms [Simms, Katerina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Planes Publishing
Published: 2022-01-13T18:30:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

By the time Freya crawled from the tent the next morning, the sun and azure sky hit her with a glare that stung her eyes. She squinted at a frying pan beside the newly re-built fire, the savory scent of fresh cooked bacon and eggs being what had pulled her from the tent in the first place.

She perched on a toppled log also beside the fire; wary over being alone with no sign of Max nearby.

A high-pitched screech came from high up in the trees. Try as she did, she couldn’t see much, though she knew enough to recognize that the call belonged to a cockatoo.

Then again, bugger the bird, all she really wanted was Max.

Her heartbeat picked up pace, and she peered behind her, shrinking at the idea of having to venture too far from the tent in search of him. A loud snap came from up ahead, and she flinched, her startled focus landing on an overgrown clump of trees.

“Good sleep?”

Max stepped out of the clump.

The snapping sound must have been him treading on a fallen branch.

She swore under her breath and stiffened her expression, wanting to hide any not-too-happy glower. Then again, she could at least be grateful that Max stood before her and not some giant, murderous kangaroo.

She gave him a weak nod and tried to forget how her crippling fear last night had led to an outpouring of her life story, followed by hours of fitful sleep in his arms. No sex required, no need to prove there was nothing wrong with her in light of her past. All this, despite previous bad experiences divulging to others, much less deep conversations generally being off-limits in casual relationships such as this one.

Stop it! He’s just a nice guy, and we had a nice conversation. It’s no big deal.

Right. Maybe that screaming voice in her head had a point. Best not to overthink this.

He bent to the fire and went about serving bacon and eggs on a white, tin plate. “I made food for you. It’s still warm.”

Her stomach churned in spite of her hunger, the day’s gathering heat not enough to keep her from tugging her khaki jacket closed over her chest. Even as she reached for the plate, she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, stemming a new rise of emotion.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat, refusing to look directly at him. “My first ever fire-cooked breakfast.”

And he’d let her sleep in. Hadn’t prodded her awake so he could get some early morning attention. He’d merely woken when he wanted to, and made food.

Simple.

But she wasn’t used to simple.

She took a nearby fork and began picking at her breakfast, her thoughts nagging her to hurry up and eat so they could end this whole camping thing and go home.

Maybe she’d been wrong to share so much of herself.

Maybe she’d ruined the one good thing they had going for them, casual sex with no touchy-feely emotions swirling in-between.

Besides, he might have handled her story well enough last night, but Max still had so much soul-searching to do.

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