Horror washed over her. Gen dropped her face into her hands. This was bad. Very bad. What had she said afterward? Had she passed out before uttering something stupid? Would it make things weird for them? How could she have been so slutty, when she’d just left her fiancée at the altar?
The door opened. Wolfe stuck his head in.
“Oh, BTW, don’t worry about the kiss thing. You’re probably freaking out, but let’s not ruin the day. Deal?”
Her mouth dropped open. “R-r-right. I’m sorry, Wolfe. So sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She paused. “Umm, it was good though?”
A wicked grin tugged those lush lips. Once again, she was struck by his bad-boy hotness, the leather wristbands, tattoo, eyebrow ring, and those piercing blue eyes blazing in his face like he knew all the bad things to do to women and enjoyed every last one.
“Hell, yeah, it was good. But we were kinda drunk and sad and we needed it. No need for any weirdness between us. And I kissed you first, so don’t feel guilty.”
“Umm, okay.”
“Gen?”
“Yeah?”
He winked. “You’re an amazing kisser. If you weren’t my best friend, I would’ve tumbled you right there and you wouldn’t have had a shot.”
Her heart leaped and sudden hot need hit her gut. Her lips curved in a smile. “Thanks. I think.”
He laughed and shut the door. Damn the man. He had a talent for playing Jedi mind tricks on her, always sensing the right thing to say or do. Fine. If he wasn’t going to think about the kiss, neither was she. After a few moments, Gen managed to shower and pull on denim shorts, a yellow tank, and flip-flops. Face bare of makeup—she’d left that behind when she crawled out the window—she scooped her hair into a ponytail and made her way to the kitchen.
She slid onto the stool and dove into her cereal. She spooned up a banana slice and shot him a look. “Fruit, too? You’re getting to be a real gourmet.”
“Wait till you see what’s on the pizza for dinner.”
“What are we doing today?”
“Think Hemingway.”
She raised a brow. Damn, she’d forgotten how good Frosted Flakes could be in the morning. All that bran and granola was seriously sucking the fun out of her life. “Are you kidding? I’m still recovering from alcohol. And why do you look so chipper? That Sam Adams kicked my ass last night.”
He sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “You lost your edge, woman. Used to be able to keep up.”
“I got soft. Also switched to Michelob Ultra. I wasn’t prepared.”
Wolfe grinned. He looked just as casual as she did, with cutoff denim shorts, a navy blue T-shirt, and leather sandals. His hair was freshly washed and fell in damp waves over his forehead. The ring in his brow winked merrily, and the ink of his tattoo peeked through the collar of his shirt and climbed up sensuously over his neck. She always wondered why he’d picked a serpent. She’d never asked.
“You gonna tell me or are you going to torture me with more trivia?”
“Me, you, and the fish, baby.”
She blinked. “Are you kidding? That’s not fun! Sitting on some leaky, rotted dock catching smelly, wiggly fish so you can butcher them? I’m going back to bed.”
“Not on my vacay. We’re not sitting on the dock. This is much more exciting.”
“How so?”
“We’re renting a boat.”
She got up, put her bowl and spoon in the sink, and headed to the bedroom. “Good luck with that. Night.”
He caught her around the waist and swung her around. “You don’t have a choice. It’s gonna be epic. We’ll sail the seas, catch fresh fish, fry them up tonight for dinner, and bond with nature.”
“I’m not cooking fish.”
“No problem. I can handle that.”
She laughed. The image almost made the whole thing worth it. Almost. “I’m gonna be bored,” she whined.
“Not with me. Get your sweet ass in gear, our poles are outside.”
She grumbled but did what he told her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t capable of making decisions for herself right now, so she depended on his direction. He picked up some type of tackle box, the poles, a case of water, and various snacks, then headed into the woods.
Gen dragged her feet, muttered zingy one-liners, and tried to keep up. He whistled and ignored all her barbed statements, not letting up the pace even though his legs were four times longer than hers. After a good twenty minutes of walking through brush, getting bitten by mosquitoes, and huffing and puffing, she opened her mouth to say she was quitting, but he stopped short.