Page 115 of Wild As Her

Cami

Your Place by Ashley Cooke

Jack won’t tell me where we’re going.

“Don’t plan on wearing anything,” he says, voice wrapped in mischief as he kisses the top of my head and tosses a duffel bag into the truck.

I squint at him. “What do you have planned?”

He grins, that full, crooked grin that makes my stomach flip. “You will love it. Promise.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring.” But I climb into the truck anyway. Because it’s Jack. And when it comes to him, I’d follow him to the moon.

We drive north, away from Bridger Falls, past winding trails and creeks flowing like they have somewhere to be.

When Jack finally turns off onto a dirt road, I catch a glimpse of a cabin between the trees with smoke flowing from the chimney. And then I see it, a charming cabin nestledin a private clearing, twinkle lights strung between trees like fireflies caught in tiny little jars.

I blink. “Jack…This place is beautiful.”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “You work harder than anyone I know. You’ve been going nonstop, baking at the trailer, cleaning up the lodge, helping with branding. I figured you deserved a break. So, I got with Tucker, we found the place to rent, and we set this up.”

I stare. The man brought me out here to camp at this cabin. I love it.

There’s a firepit ready to light, a cozy little setup with thick blankets, pillows, and a cooler beside two Adirondack chairs. Inside the cabin, I can already see a queen-size bed, fairy lights, and a thermos of what smells suspiciously like hot cocoa.

I look at him. “You made a romantic hideaway in the middle of nowhere for me.”

Jack lifts a shoulder like it’s no big deal, but his ears flush red. “I did. Because I love you.”

My heart stutters. He’s said it before, sure. But something about him saying it here, surrounded by pine and stars and silence, makes it sink deeper. I step closer, hands on his chest. “I love you too.”

And then I kiss him.

The rest of the afternoon feels like magic. Jack shows me how he’s packed a picnic, steak sandwiches, potato salad, and apple pie in mason jars. He got them in town, but they look and smell amazing. We sit on a quilt and eat until the sun begins to set, washing it all down with beer and cocoa.

We talk about everything and nothing. About how the film crew is almost gone. About how Jenna is flying back to L.A. soon to work on production duties.

“How do you feel about it all ending?” I ask, picking at a fray in the blanket.

He’s quiet for a beat. “Relieved. I’m not a reality TV guy, Cami. I hated every second I had to pretend I gave a damn about finding a wife. But I kept telling myself it’d be worth it. For us.”

“It is,” I say softly.

He nods. “Soon as possible, you’re getting your B&B. And I’m getting a hell of a lot more time with you. No cameras. No pretending. Just... us.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face.

“I want to wake up with you every morning. Build something real. You and me. A life out here.”

“We already are,” I whisper.

We sit by the fire until stars crown the sky, the flames casting gold across Jack’s face as he plays with my fingers. It’s the kind of moment you don’t want to blink and miss. The kind you bottle up and save for later.

Later, we curl up together. Jack stretches out on the bed, pulling me into his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My legs tangle with his. My head rests where his heartbeat thrums steady and sure.

He tilts my chin up. “You deserve everything.”

He kisses me, slow and reverent, his hands gentle at my waist.

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