Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
JOE
Saturday, Day Two of the Summer Swap
Day Two was just beginning when Joe arrived at the campground.
Frankie trotted at his heels, ears flopping, nose twitching as they followed the damp trail.
The storm had blown through overnight, leaving everything washed clean.
Grass glittered with moisture and mist curled off the lake like white smoke.
He’d tried calling Krista before leaving the apartment, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Dead battery, he’d guessed. Or she’d been blown away in the night—but he trusted his camping skills enough to believe the tent was still standing.
And it was. Still staked, still standing, no obvious sagging or flooding. Relief loosened the tightness in his chest.
“Morning, camper,” he called.
The zipper scraped. The flap peeled back.
Krista poked her head out, blinking at the sunlight. Her hair was a wild halo of curls and waves, like she’d tossed and turned before waking up. She wore flannel pajamas patterned with tiny gold stars, sleeves shoved to her elbows.
He’d seen her dressed up, polished and in control. This soft, sleepy version hit him low and unexpectedly.
Frankie, naturally, had no such internal crisis. He launched himself at the tent opening, barking like he’d just discovered long-lost family. Krista laughed, widening the flap. “Okay, okay, I missed you too,” she said, scooping him up and kissing his head. “Even if you are a traitor.”
“And a bed hog,” Joe added.
“I should’ve warned you about that.” Krista set Frankie down.
Joe stretched his back out, remembering the way Frankie had pushed his little paws into him all night long. Who knew a ten-pound dachshund could take up so much space?
Krista clocked the cup in his hand. “Is that…?”
“Honey latte,” he confirmed. “Thought you might need the good stuff after last night.”
The sound she made was borderline indecent. “I could marry you.”
He lifted a brow.
She flushed. “Figuratively.”
“I’ll take it,” he said, grinning as he crossed the clearing.
She stepped out of the tent, barefoot on the cool grass, flannel hems brushing her ankles. He handed her the cup, and she wrapped both hands around it like it was sacred.
“You’re my favorite person,” she said after the first sip.
“If you think that after just the coffee,” he said, lifting the to-go box in his other hand, “wait until you see this.”
Krista eyed the box like she might climb into it. “Please tell me that’s breakfast. Cowboy coffee was a bust, and I can’t bring myself to even attempt the oatmeal.”
“An omelet with feta and roasted veggies, homemade biscuits, and a fancy jam I can’t pronounce.”
She lit up. “God, I love Kit. ”
“She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two. It felt criminal not to bring you some.”
Joe glanced toward the firepit. A small, blackened percolator sat crookedly on the grate, and there was a suspiciously charred smell lingering.
“Is that your cowboy coffee?” he asked.
“It’s something, alright. Think I let the water boil too long.”
“Rookie mistake. You’ll nail it tomorrow.”
She tipped her head back with a dramatic groan. “Can’t we go back to our own beds? Please? I want walls. And a bed. And a roof.”
“And ruin all the fun?”
Joe turned to the fire ring, stacking fresh kindling and nudging the coals together. The damp wood smoked, then caught, thin flames licking up until they settled into a steady burn.
“At least you got your morning meditation in, right?” he asked, grinning.
“Does sleeping in count?” she asked around a mouthful of biscuit. “Because I don’t think I’ve slept past seven o’clock in, like…three years.”
He looked back at her. She was perched on the bench with her legs tucked up, hair still wild, honey latte balanced beside her. She looked softer somehow. Unwound in a way he hadn’t seen. Like the night under canvas had scrubbed away a layer of tension.
“In that case,” he said, “I’d call it a breakthrough.”
“Speaking of calling,” she said, brushing crumbs from her fingers, “my phone died.”
“Yeah, I figured. I keep a couple portable chargers in my camera bag. Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that yesterday. Mind if I…?” He tilted his head toward the tent.
“Go for it. ”
Joe ducked inside, rummaged through his gear, and tried very hard not to think about the fact that the whole place smelled like her now. Vanilla, citrus, and something warm he couldn’t name.
He found the battery pack, stepped back out and passed it over.
“Look at you again,” she said. “My hero.”
Joe shook his head. “You are definitely not a damsel in distress.”
She snorted and plugged her phone in. A moment later the screen blinked awake, notifications pouring in. She scrolled, then paused with a smile.
He caught a glimpse of Elsie’s message as she tilted the phone.
Day One, and your first swap night, raised $487 for your grandparents’ fund. Good luck with your photography today, Krista! You’ve got this !
Some more tension in her shoulders eased, just a fraction. Looked like that number did more for her than any latte he could’ve brought.
“Oh,” she said after seeing another notification. “Zoe texted. She confirmed they’re good at ten o’clock for the hike. That still work for you?” She glanced up at him.
He nudged a log deeper into the fire ring with his boot. “Hmm. I don’t know. My boss might not let me off my shift…”
Krista laughed. “Your boss?”
“At the Hideaway,” he said solemnly. “She’s very demanding. Gorgeous. But she’s pretty hard on me.”
Krista fought a smile. “She rides you pretty hard, does she?”
“Not yet,” Joe said, letting a slow smirk creep in, “but I’m optimistic. ”
Krista grinned. “You’re impossible. And don’t worry—Ian’s opening. I told him you’d be in before one.”
“Alright then,” Joe said. “It’s a date.”
Her eyes flickered, just for a second, like she’d felt the weight of the word too. He filed that away and sat on the opposite end of the bench as she finished her breakfast.
“Read more last night?” he asked eventually.
She nodded slowly, fingertips tracing idle patterns on Isabel’s diary, which sat beside her on the bench. “Yeah. Before my phone tapped out.”
“Anything interesting?”
Krista hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder.
“She wrote about Jonah,” she said. “About how he saw past her hurry, past everything she pretended to be.” Her gaze drifted over the campsite to the tent, the trees, the thin line of lake visible through the trunks.
“She said it was terrifying. And that it felt like home.”
He didn’t answer right away. “I guess when someone really sees you,” he said finally, “it can go either way.”
“Either way,” she echoed.
“Either it’s too much and you run,” he said, “or you decide it’s worth staying for.”
He cleared his throat, tipping his chin toward the to-go box. “Anyway, you should finish eating, and then we should go practice snapping some pics before our hike with the Adventure Squad.”
Krista eyed him. “Adventure Squad? That’s what we’re calling ourselves now?”
“Unless you’ve got something better.”
“Mystery Hikers?”
“Too on the nose.”
“Historic Romance Treasure Hunters?”
“Too long,” he said. “Marketing would never approve. ”
She laughed, bright and easy. Mornings with her were fast becoming a habit he couldn’t quit. He’d have to, soon enough.
But for now, the day was wide open, and he’d be following Krista wherever she went.