Burning the Midnight Oil: A Single Dad Small Town Romance

Chapter 24

Ican’t do this anymore.

I can’t sleep so close to Boone for another night. Can’t go to sleep hard, imagining what it would feel like to have his body heat warming me as we slept. Can’t wake up just as hard, and have to go to the damn bathrooms or the shower stalls to relieve the tension ever-present in my body because of his proximity.

I. Can’t. Do. It.

Which is how I find myself in the camping section at the Walmart in the town we’re staying in this week. I’m buying a fucking tent and an air mattress, and I’m sleeping in that from now on.

“This one looks good, right?” I ask Xander, who I forced to come with me, as I reach for the tent that’s on sale.

“Uh…” His gaze alternates between me and the box housing the tent. “I mean, it looks like a tent? Aren’t they all the same?”

Staring at him blankly, I ask, “Haven’t you ever been camping?”

“Grady, does it fucking look like I go camping?”

I give Xander a quick once-over before we both bust up laughing in the middle of the aisle. “Fuck it,” I mutter, grabbing the box. “I’m getting this one.”

After we find an air mattress and check out, we hop in Cope’s truck that Xander borrowed, and we head back to the campsite.

“This just seems extreme,” Xander says, indicating toward the bag with my camping needs. “Is it really that bad sleeping in the camper with Boone?”

“Xander,” I deadpan. “I had a wet dream the other night. A wet dream!”

He coughs, trying to hide his laugh. “Yeah, okay. That would suck. Still, a tent? Why don’t you sleep in our camper?”

I throw him a sideways glare, like he’s lost his mind. “You mean the camper that you and Cope share with Shooter and Sterling?” I balk. “I’m good. That sounds like a massive fuck-fest I don’t need to be privy to.”

Xander laughs, but doesn’t deny anything.

We get back to the campsite, and I immediately start trying to build this tent—trying being the operative word here—before nightfall. Xander helps too, but he’s more clueless than I am when it comes to these very un-informative directions. I don’t know where Boone and the rest of the guys are, but he doesn’t show up until the tent is nearly all the way built, and I’m dripping in sweat.

“What the hell is this?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“What does it look like?” I toss back. “It’s a tent.”

“Obviously it’s a tent, G,” he counters. “What’s it doing here?”

Suddenly feeling like a petulant child, I stand tall, placing my hands on my hips, and I jut out my chin. “It’s where I’m sleeping from now on.”

Boone narrows his gaze on me, folding his arms over his chest, making his form look even bigger and intimidating than it already is. “No, you’re not.”

My eyebrows pinch together, thrown off by his hard, stern tone. “Uh, yes, I am.”

“Why?” He holds eye contact in a way that’s intimidating. It makes me want to squirm.

All of the sudden, it feels like Boone and I are in this awkward standoff. I’m unprepared for this question, and it’s abundantly clear when I stand here like a fish out of water, searching for any answer I can think of. Finally, I land on, “Because I enjoy the outdoors.”

His eyes narrow, clearly not believing me. “Grady…”

“Boone,” I counter, not backing down.

“You’re not sleeping in a fucking tent when there’s a perfectly good bed in the camper. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” I grumble. “It’s my choice. I’m a fucking adult who can make decisions for myself. If I want to sleep in a tent, I’ll sleep in a damn tent.”

Boone’s eyes widen, and I swear, my heart stalls in my chest. Where did that attitude come from?

“I realize you’re an adult,” he replies slowly, almost like he, too, is stunned by my outburst.

“Okay, then it’s settled.”

He looks like he wants to press the issue further, but in the end, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Whatever, Grady,” and stalks off. Before disappearing inside the camper, Boone glances over his shoulder and says, “I’ll be video chatting with Suzy tonight before dinner if you want to talk to her too.”

After I finish blowing up the air mattress and putting my blankets and pillows in the tent, I join everybody else for dinner. Colt grilled steak and potatoes, and we all hang out around the fire, throwing back a few beers before everyone calls it a night. The first rodeo of the weekend is tomorrow, so everyone wants to get a good night’s rest. I choose to take a shower before I call it a night, but by the time I’m finished, it’s pouring down rain.

Great.

This is just great.

Staring up at the sky like it holds all the answers, I curse the gods before stomping over to my dumb tent.

You know what? It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Tents are waterproof, right? Yeah, it’ll be fine.

Just as I’m about to climb inside the tent, the creaking sound of a door reaches me, and when I glance behind me, I notice Boone standing there watching me.

“Get inside, Grady,” he says sternly, his arms once again crossed over his chest in an authoritative manner.

“No.”

“You’re soaked.”

“Yeah, I just took a shower.”

“It’s raining.”

“I’m not sleeping on the bench, Boone. I’ll be in the tent. I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Goodnight,” I say, by way of response, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at the thought of Boone caring enough to check on me. He’s a good guy; it doesn’t mean anything more.

Boone mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch before he turns and goes back inside the camper, leaving me all alone out here in the rain.

“It’s fine,” I mumble one last time to myself before I dip into the tent.

Okay,so night one in the tent wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t horrible either. I survived, and I stayed dry, which is quite the feat considering the weather last night. And on the plus side, I didn’t wake up with a raging boner. Granted, it was probably because my back was stiff and I was freezing, but that’s okay. Progress is progress, right?

It’s now night two, and I’m determined to make it work. It’s not raining tonight, so I’m already off to a better start. The rodeo ended a few hours ago, and it was a great one. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how exciting it is to get to work these events. Getting to watch these strong, brave, wild cowboys and cowgirls for a living night after night is a bit surreal, but I’ll take it. Boone did incredibly. Which leads me to believe that not sleeping near me was helpful for him too. Which is a good thing…right? Except all I can think about is that means he’s affected by me too, meaning he feels something between us. It’s not one sided. And sure, I probably could’ve gathered that way sooner…like when we made out, for instance, but it’s easy to blame that on alcohol.

I wish these feelings would go away. They’re annoying, very much unwanted, and at this point, all I think about. I’m consumed with thoughts of Boone, and us, and then the guilt for having those thoughts. It’s a never-ending cycle. Like right now, for instance, I’m getting ready to head into the tent after my shower, and all I can think about is what Boone’s doing in the camper, since he’s all alone. Is he reading? Scrolling through his phone? Is he touching himself again like that night I watched him? Or maybe it’s none of the above, and he’s simply sleeping.

Approaching the tent, I notice something is off right away. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my pulse kicks up. It’s unzipped, but I think that’s my fault. I probably forgot to close it before I went to the stalls. But it’s the rustling around on the inside that’s got my hackles up. Turning on the flashlight on my phone with shaky fingers, I point the light in the direction of the tent as I approach it slowly, cautiously. My heart’s beating so fast, I swear I can feel it in my throat.

I finally round the front of the tent, getting a good look at the inside, and a scream lodges itself in my throat as the furry, grayish-brown creature comes into view. He must hear me because he spins around, standing on his hindlegs as his front paws are held up in front of him like he’s been caught red-handed. His beady little eyes stare into my soul, and an ice-cold chill races down my spine. I’m frozen in place, staring at the raccoon currently occupying my tent.

What is one supposed to do in this instance?

What if he has rabies?

Oh my God. He’s going to attack me, and I’m going to die from rabies.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

What do I do?!

The raccoon and I stand here, staring at each other, for what feels like an eternity. When he finally drops down to all fours again, taking a step in my direction, a blood-curdling scream claws its way up my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, and the furry devil stands up on his hind legs again. Holy shit, he’s going to charge at me, isn’t he?

This is it.

He waves his paws in the air a few times before he drops down and darts out of the tent. I jump back, another scream coming out, but instead of coming toward me, he scurries away. Watching him run away, I let out a heaved sigh, bending over and resting my palms on my knees as I breathe in deeply, trying to catch my breath. The door to Boone’s camper opens, and he runs out wearing nothing more than a tight pair of black briefs.

“What’s going on?” he asks, panic in his voice, eyes wide, and his hair a mess atop his head.

My blood is pumping along with my heart is racing, so I can’t even stop to admire how fucking hot he looks right now.

“My tent…” I blurt out. “Raccoon… Inside… Tent.”

Boone runs barefoot down the steps to the camper toward the tent. He approaches and looks inside, like he’s not even scared of the possibility of rabies and an untimely death. “I don’t see anything,” he says after a moment.

“Ran away,” I reply, clearly not able to speak in complete sentences right now. My head is dizzy as my heart rate slowly returns to a normal pace.

Walking over to me, Boone scans his gaze over me. “You okay? You’re shaking.”

I exhale, feeling my shoulders deflate. “I’m scared of raccoons.”

“You can’t leave your tent open,” he says plainly.

“Yeah, I know that,” I huff. “It was an accident.”

“Grady…” Boone sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “This is stupid. You don’t need to sleep in a fucking tent. You’re sleeping in the camper, end of discussion.”

My lips part in surprise as my eyes widen. “End of discussion?” I balk. “Who the hell do you think you are? My daddy?”

Boone’s eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw, huffing out a harsh breath through this nose. I watch his fists clench and unclench a few times, like he needs to give himself a moment before he can respond. “If you’re going to be an idiot and make poor choices, then yeah, I guess I am.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Grady.” Boone takes a single step in my direction, gesturing behind him with one single finger. “Get in the camper.”

My heart hammers in my chest, blood roaring in my ears as I stand my ground. Narrowing my eyes, I grit out, “No.”

Another step. “Grady, don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside, because I will.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I toss my hands up in the air before spinning on my heel and storming into the direction of the tree-covered path that leads to the water. He wouldn’t fucking dare.

“If you’re scared of raccoons, it’s probably not smart to go in there,” he calls after me.

I flip him the finger, not bothering to look back or think about the validity of his statement. “Fuck off, Boone!”

Vaguely, I hear the sound of the camper door slamming shut, and for a moment I think he left me out here like I wanted, but then I hear it… Footsteps behind me. Motherfucker. I throw a quick glance behind me, and just like I thought, he’s following behind me, his large steps eating up the distance between us. Still only in briefs, he at least had the smarts to slip on a pair of boots before trudging through the damn woods after me.

He”s gaining on me, but I don’t slow down or stop. I can’t sleep in that camper anymore. I just can’t. Nothing good will come from it, and it can’t happen. No matter how much I want it to happen, it can’t. This is for the best. And yeah, sure, I almost got mauled to death by a raccoon, but it’s fine. I’ll be more careful from now on. I’ll zip it closed every time I leave, and all will be well. It was one time, and I doubt the creature is going to return.

I am not going to get bit by a raccoon and get rabies.

I will not.

It’s fine.

I’m fine.

A large, warm, rough palm wraps around my elbow, yanking me to a stop, and I realize two things… It is not fine, and neither am I. We stand in silence for a moment, and I can feel the heat from his nearly naked body. It sends a shiver down my spine.

“Look at me, G,” he rasps.

Tears creep up and sting the backs of my eyes from how frustrated I feel, but I blink to keep them at bay, pissed that he’s affecting me like this. I bite down on my molars so hard, I’m surprised I don’t crack one. “No.”

I’m acutely aware of his hand still wrapped around my arm, and he’s making no move to remove it. “What is going on with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, and without even looking at Boone, I know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a softer edge. “Look at me…please.”

I swallow against the lump forming in my throat, hating how easily he’s wearing me down. “Boone…”

“Grady, please. When did we get here? Just talk to me, baby.”

Baby. The single word comes out no louder than a whisper, like he didn’t mean to say it…but he did.

I spin around, coming face to face with him, and I instantly regret it. He’s so unbelievably handsome, it hurts. His sharp features, his dark brown eyes that look black under the midnight sky, and the miles of muscles and skin on display, illuminated by the full moon.

My pulse roars in my ears, and I can feel everything I shouldn’t say rising in my throat like bile. It’s sour, and despite how hard I fight to keep it down, it doesn’t work. I can’t keep it in any longer. Especially not when he’s looking at me the way he is.

“I can’t talk to you because, when I do, all I think about is kissing you again, and I can’t sleep in that goddamn camper anymore because all I can picture is climbing into your bed beside you and doing things I shouldn’t be thinking of doing with you. I want you so damn bad, it’s driving me insane, Boone. It’s torture being near you, and it’s like you know that and you taunt me anyway. I’m sure that kiss outside the bar meant nothing to you. I’m sure it was the alcohol talking, and nothing more, but for me, it was everything.” I suck in a deep breath, unable to look him in the eye, before continuing. “It was everything to me, and I can’t be near you without wanting it to happen again, and that won’t ever happen, so I have to distance myself, Boone. I can’t keep doing this.”

My chest heaves. Neither of us says anything for a moment, and I immediately regret spewing all of that out because now that I said it, I can’t take it back. It’s out there, and now he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, how pathetic I am. He knows, and there’s?—

“You don’t think I think about that night too?” he asks, cutting off my train of thought as my heart stutters.

“Wh-what?”

“That night was not nothing to me.” Boone closes the distance between us with a single, large step. He’s so close, I can see the slight quiver to his bottom lip. “It wasn’t nothing,” he repeats no louder than a whisper before he wraps his palm around the back of my neck and crashes his lips down onto mine.