Till Summer Do Us Part(100)

I move into him and place my hand on his chest. “Me too.”

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t we plan our date in the cabin? We can just—”

“You cannot plan your date in the cabin,” Sanders says, scaring the both of us.

“Jesus,” I say, gripping my chest. “Where did you come from?”

He eyes the both of us. “You’re to pick a date from the date book in the main building. Understood?”

“But don’t you always say you want your couples to be intimate?”

“I do,” Sanders says. “But the point of these dates is to build that anticipation, to learn to flirt with each other again. You can’t do that if you’re hiding out in your cabin, screwing each other.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty good at flirting,” Wilder says while scratching his jaw. “I might not need to practice.”

Sanders points his finger at Wilder. “Stay out of your cabin until nighttime.”

“What if…we want to go in the lake and need our bathing suits?” Wilder asks, clearly trying to find a loophole.

Sanders thinks about it for a second and then says, “I’ll allow it. Just for swimsuits. I want you building that anticipation.”

“Trust me, with my Pips wearing that shirt today, the anticipation is already there.”

My Pips.

Did he really just say “my Pips”?

I think he did.

And why do I love it so much?

Maybe because my ex never claimed me the way Wilder so easily does.

“Come on.” Wilder loops his arm over me. “We have a day to plan.”





“Babe, we have to do the tandem bike.”

“Have you ever ridden a tandem bike?” I ask as I stare down at the pamphlet.

“No, but how hard can it be?”

“Uh, hard.”

I turn to the receptionist and ask, “Is it hard?”

“No. Once you get the hang of it, it’s quite enjoyable. You just need to communicate well.”

“Oh, we have excellent communication,” Wilder says.

There’s a snort from the corner, and that’s when I see Chad, sitting in a chair with a Diet Coke in hand, looking none too pleased.

“Do you have something you want to say?” Wilder asks.

“Nope, just enjoying my drink,” he answers. “Going to rate it in my Soda Tracker when I’m done. Camp Haven, flat Cokes, lukewarm at best.”

Did he just say Soda Tracker?

From the way Wilder just stilled next to me, I’m going to say he did.

Does Chad know?

Is he going to expose us?

“Then I’d keep your derisive snorts to yourself,” Wilder says.

Not wanting to have this break into a fight, because Wilder really doesn’t like Chad—like actually hates him—I say, “You know, the tandem bike into town with the picnic and floats later sounds great.”

“Great. Since you already signed waivers when you came here, you can fit yourself with a helmet out back and then take the bike when you’re ready.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say and then tug on Wilder’s hand as he stares Chad down for a few more seconds. “Come on.”

We head out of the main building toward a green-and-white shed.

“That fuck is testing me,” Wilder mutters under his breath. “I’m a chill guy, but don’t fuck with me, and don’t fuck with the people in my life.”

I smooth my hand over his chest. “Just like you tell me not to let Matt live in my head, don’t let Chad live in your head.”

“Yeah, but he’s disrespecting you, and I don’t fucking like that. You deserve better.”

I smile and stand on my toes to press a kiss to his chin. “Thank you.”

That seems to ease some of the tension as he wraps his arms around me and brings me in close. “You’re welcome.”

“So should we tandem?”

“I think we shall,” he says and then kisses the tip of my nose.





Chapter Twenty-Three





WILDER

“This is humiliating,” Scottie says.

“For all these people driving by us know, we have a flat tire,” I say as we turn into a Stewart’s gas station.

“I really thought we would be better at this.”

“I think the problem is you have no balance,” I say while we push the tandem bike up against the gas station’s wall. I unclip my helmet and fluff out my hair as I turn toward her.

“I had plenty of balance,” she grumbles.

My brow quirks up. “Pips, it’s insulting that you think you can blatantly lie to me.”

She huffs. “It was just different. I didn’t think you were going to be so…large.”

“Come on now. You’ve seen me with my clothes off. You know how large I really am.”

Her expression falls flat. “Really, Wilder?”

“Uh, we were told to flirt. I am flirting.”

“That is not flirting.”

“Would it have helped if I wiggled my brows while saying it?”

“No,” she answers like the grump she knows how to be. “Are we going to push the bike back to camp?”