Page 298 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

I’d do well to remember that.

“Sure, River,” I say, as I turn the heat off, move the pot from the burner.

“You don’t sound like you want to,” he says.

You have no idea how much I want to go with you.“I do. I do want to. I just...”

“Just what?” River presses, his tone pitching up, like he’s desperate.

I should just say it. Just be honest. I won’t stand a chance if I don’t attempt some honesty about my feelings.

Here goes nothing.

Grabbing two mugs, I answer him. “I want to go with you. Hiking, or a concert, or coffee. Anything, really,” I say, and that feels like a big step. I’m admitting I’d date him, and that has to count for something. But I can’t shake the feeling that tonight is the wrong time. This moment is fueled by the most powerful drug known to man—lust. Anything we plan tonight feels like it could crumble in the morning. “But it just feels weird, making plans. We said a few minutes ago to talk about it tomorrow.”

River’s shoulders sag. He frowns. “You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s all just so much...”

“Fun?” I supply, kind of hating that word. I pour the cocoa into the mugs.

“Itisfun. It’s good. Fun is good. This is like a fun cabin,” he says.

But will it be likeFight Club? What happens in the Fun Cabin stays in the Fun Cabin?

My jaw clicks, and the barest hint of a headache takes hold in the back of my neck. Absently, I reach up and rub a hand across my nape. I look away from River, rubbing more.

Then, a gentle hand wraps around my neck, startling me, but only for a second. Mostly, it just feels good as he massages. “Here. Let me do that for you. Felt so good when you did that for me,” he whispers, his voice sending goose bumps across my bare skin.

My heart thunders as I close my eyes and let him massage my neck for a few seconds. His fingers drift into my hair. “I just want to go hiking with you—that’s all. I don’t want to pressure you. I think maybe I just want to know that we can still do things together,” he says, and I swear, I can hear the unspoken words.

After we stop fucking.

After we leave the fun cabin.

After this night ends.

Closing my eyes, I wince, holding in all the emotions churning inside me. “We can go then,” I whisper, giving him that much, because it’s better than nothing. I straighten my spine, shift away from him, grab the mug. “Here. Have some,” I say, then hand it to him.

River lifts the cup and takes a drink, his eyes twinkling. “Mmm. Cocoa master indeed. You can come to The Lazy Hammock and serve this. It’d be a hit. You, the hottest guy in the bar, handing out your hot cocoa. Can you make it spiked? Wait. I can just add liquor. We’ll call it... Fun Cabin Hot Cocoa. That’ll be its cocktail name,” he says, then wheels around and opens cupboards, hunting for liquor, I suspect.

“Aha!” He brandishes a bottle of tequila. “Can I add a splash?”

“Go for it.”

River pours a generous amount in each cup, then sets down the bottle. “Try it,” he urges.

I pick up the cocoa, take a drink, and savor the burn. It reminds me that all good things hurt just a little. “It’s good.”

“It’ll be our special drink,” he says.

But will it?

Hell if I know.

Hell if I know what is happening.

What the Fun Cabin means. What the hike means. What tomorrow means.

“Sounds good.”