Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Renzo made a pained noise, and Canaan had to laugh.
“Yeah, I’ve already figured out that you’re not so much a player as I was back then. And that’s cool. But we were twenty-three, man. Orgies seemed like our due for all the lousy venues, lost sleep, and shit wages.”
“Remind me to request my next paycheck from Uncle Sam come with an orgy voucher.” Renzo laughed, then sobered and took Canaan’s hand again. “Still sucks though, him keeping a secret.”
“Yeah. Exactly. I’m not mad that he fucked around. I’m mad that he didn’t tell me before the band voted. He told me to think of Eric as if he was some noble fucking saint. That fucking sucks.”
“He’s a shit.”
“Yup. And now, all because I was nostalgic or what the fuck ever, we’re stuck with his lying ass for another thirty-six hours or so.”
“If you want to get back to Flagstaff, I’ll make that happen.” On this, Renzo was emphatic, hitting his thigh. “I’ll claim stomach flu or something that doesn’t blame you, get one of the guides to run us back.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Absolutely.” Renzo pulled him closer. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I made you stay?”
The kind I want to keep forever. Canaan’s throat went tight. “But you’d stay too? If that’s what I wanted? I saw your face when they were talking about the hike tomorrow. You’re looking forward to that.”
“Eh.” Renzo shrugged. “It’s all right. Sounds pretty badass. But I could find some...trouble with you too on the way back to San Diego, I’m sure.”
It was so fucking selfish, but that reminder that this thing between them was only as long as this weekend had him reluctant to tap out, ask to go back to Flagstaff.
“I don’t want to look like a wimp,” he mumbled. “And I do like the others—Kelly, Cindy, Jules... I hate the idea of letting Damian run me off. Again.”
“So we’ll stay. And yeah, the hike tomorrow should be fun. We’ll just stick together, stay away from the assholes.”
“Okay.” Again Canaan’s throat went guitar-string tight, reverberating with emotions he didn’t particularly want. Why did Renzo have to be so nice? Even as a pretend boyfriend, he was totally ruining Canaan for whatever—whoever—came next.
“Now, what do you say we have that tent sex you’ve been teasing me with all day? Make him jealous and make you feel better?”
“How the fuck did you get to be so fucking perfect?” He reached for Renzo’s waist, but Renzo knocked his hand away.
“Not here. I don’t mind if you wanna get a little noisy while I get you off back at the tent. But I’m not getting naked where the coyotes or a mountain lion could find us.”
“Fine, city boy.”
And he was going to do something about Renzo’s assumption that all he was going to do was get Canaan off. He wasn’t going to sleep until they were both a sweaty mess. Fuck making Damian jealous. Canaan had wanted Renzo all damn day, and he wasn’t about to let him rush through this. But he didn’t want to lay it out there how this meant so much more to him than just getting even with Damian. What if that was Renzo’s only motivation? Or worse, what if he laughed?
So instead, all he did was stand and extend a hand. “Lead the way back.”
Chapter Eleven
When Renzo offered to have loud sex with Canaan, he’d been half-joking. Anything to make Canaan sound less forlorn, make him smile and laugh again. Fuck that bastard Damian. Renzo wanted to drop-kick him out the hatch of a C-130J without a parachute.
However, Canaan’s entire demeanor brightened on the way back to camp, and Renzo’s stomach wobbled. Maybe he’d overpromised.
“Should I shower?” Canaan asked as they neared campsites again.
“Not on my account.” Renzo’s heating face made him glad for the darkness. Admitting that he liked Canaan a little...natural felt super personal, more even than admitting that he wanted to fool around. “And I know you’re not feeling the most social right now. You don’t need awkward shower talk.”
“Okay. Long as I don’t reek.”
That felt like a challenge, so Renzo tugged him close, buried his face in Canaan’s hair, which still smelled like yesterday’s shampoo. “You pass the test.”
“Good.” Canaan followed Renzo down the long way around that he’d discovered—a path that ran along the back loop of the campground and led them to their tent without passing the group still hanging out around the fire pit. Laughter echoed along with the telltale metallic clink of flasks being passed around. Someone was going to be hurting tomorrow on the hike, but luckily that wasn’t Renzo’s concern. Unzipping the tent, Canaan kicked off his boots before crawling inside, boots in hand.
“Come on,” he urged when Renzo hesitated at the tent flap. “Unless you changed your mind?”