28. Neavh

Ilead Clover out to the back patio of the bar while she holds a hand over her eyes.

"No peeking!" I say.

"Well, if you didn't make me keep bumping into stuff, you wouldn't have to worry about that," she grumbles.

I link my arm through hers for the final few steps to our table and then step back to look at her for a moment while she keeps covering her eyes. She's wearing a slinky spaghetti strap top that keeps slipping down over one of her shoulders. I have to clench my hands into fists to resist the urge to slide the strap back into place with my teeth.

Her little sunflower skirt doesn't do anything to help my resolve. I don't know what it is about that thing, but it's impossible not to think about sliding the thin fabric up her thighs and burying my face between her legs whenever she's got it on.

I've been doing my fair share of that over the past few days, so I remind myself that I should be able to get through just one dinner without needing to bend her over the table and drop to my knees.

She has her hair in two loose French braids with a few tiny white wildflowers woven into the plaits. I focus on how adorable the flowers are as I tell her she can look now.

"Oh my god," she gasps as she blinks her eyes open. "Neavh, this is beautiful."

Her hand flies up to cover her mouth as she spins around to take in the patio. We've got the whole thing to ourselves tonight—for an hour, at least, before David needs it back for prime dining hours.

I've set out an entire one-hundred count pack of battery operated tea lights. David vetoed actual flames, but I think the faint yellow glow from the dozens of tiny bulbs still counts as romantic. I've also adorned our table with the biggest bouquet I could find at the nearest flower shop, which was almost an hour and a half's drive away.

A playlist featuring a few of Clover's favourite folk artists is drifting out of a speaker, blending with the muted chatter and music coming from inside the bar. The table is already set up with the first course of our meal: an avocado salad prepared by Trish, which she's assured me Clover is obsessed with, as well as a bottle of white wine and two glasses I managed to scrounge up from the back of a dusty cupboard in the bar.

Wine is not a popular option in River's Bend, but pints of beer didn't fit the mood I was going for.

"You did all this for me?"

Clover's eyes are still wide, reflecting the tiny flames of the candles like stars.

"Of course," I say as a fluttering sensation kicks up in my chest. "For our date."

Since our dramatic reunion on the beach last week, I've been telling Clover I want to take her on a real date, but it's taken a few days to pull all the arrangements together.

"Come on. Come see the table."

I take her hand again and lead her over to get a better look at the bouquet.

"Oh my god!" she squeals when she sees the plates. "Is that my favourite salad?"

"The one and only," I say as I glance back over my shoulder at the bar. "David was very disappointed I asked Trish to cater tonight, you know, given their whole restaurant rivalry thing, but I wanted to do more than fries and burgers. Trish seemed a little more prepared for…elegance, but do not tell David I said that."

Clover laughs as she inspects the bottle of wine. "I wouldn't dream of it. Wow, this wine looks really fancy."

I shrug, my cheeks heating up. "Yeah, uh, I just picked it because it had a cute frog on the label. I have no idea if it's any good."

She cackles at that. "Okay, good. I know nothing about wine. I just thought the frog looked cute too."

She sets the wine down and leans closer to smell the bouquet.

"This is gorgeous," she says before taking a second sniff. "And it's got so much of my favourite colour!"

As soon as I saw the orange tiger lilies filling up the center of the arrangement, I knew this would be the perfect bouquet.

"I know," I say. "That's why I picked it."

She turns back to me with a misty look in her eyes. "You remembered my favourite colour?"

"Of course I did." I step closer and clasp both her hands in mine. "I love you, Clover."

Her breath catches, and her eyes get wide enough to reflect the orange of the evening sky.

Her favourite colour.

"I love you too," she whispers.

It's not the first time we've said it since that day on the beach, and we said it more times than I can remember four summers ago, but the words still feel new, fragile even, like the first rays of a sunrise just beginning to pierce the dark.

I know they'll only keep getting stronger.

"Did you see your present?" I ask.

Her forehead wrinkles. "Isn't all this my present?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "This is our date. Your present is hiding right in front of you."

I point at the table, and she turns to squint at the set-up. She keeps hunting for a few seconds, hunching over and scanning every inch of the salads like there might just be a diamond lurking among the avocados.

"It's not in the salads," I say, fighting back a laugh.

"I'm being thorough," she says as she moves onto the bouquet, practically shoving her face in among the flowers.

"Getting warmer."

She shoots me a dirty look. "I don't need hints. That's cheating!"

I hold my hands up. "Okay, okay. Have it your way."

She combs through the blooms like a bloodhound, her nose practically nudging the petals apart, before she lets out a triumphant cry.

"Aha! What's this?"

She pulls out the two identical decorative patches I cunningly wedged in among some fluffy white hydrangeas.

"Wait." Her playful tone disappears, and a stunned look comes over her face. "Are these what I think they are?"

I move close enough to peer over her shoulder at the tiny beaded patches in her hands, both of them shaped like salamanders. Their bodies glimmer in shifting shades of brown and green, the intricacy of the beadwork making them look alive enough to skitter out of Clover's grasp.

"They're wandering salamanders," I say as Clover continues to stare at them. "Well, actually I think they're just generic salamanders, but that's what I've decided they are."

"They're beautiful," Clover murmurs as she strokes the miniscule beads with her fingertip.

"I got them at the Indigenous Arts Center," I explain. "I was looking for David. He was in there flirting with Lonnie, of course, and I happened to notice these. One of the featured artists had a bunch of different designs like this for sale. They're patches to sew on our backpacks."

I'm standing close enough that I feel her go rigid as she sucks in a sharp breath.

A spike of nerves shoots through me.

"Uh, you know, for our trip," I babble. "I just thought it might be cute. We don't have to use them. I—"

Clover whips around and throws her arms around me, knocking into me so hard I stagger back a few steps. She buries her face in my neck, and it takes me a few seconds to realize she's crying.

"They're perfect," she says, her lips brushing my skin. "They're so perfect."

My eyes begin to sting. I tighten my grip on her and stroke her back with one of my hands.

"So are you," I murmur. "I'm so happy you want to wander with me."

We stand like that for a few long moments, swaying a little as we both sniffle. We've only just stepped apart and headed back to the table when the door to the bar flies open, a blast of laughter and thumping music from inside spilling out into the quiet evening.

Clover and I look over to see Trish peering around the edge of the doorframe.

"How's it going?" she whisper-yells. "Are you done with the salad?"

We don't get a chance to answer before Trish's girlfriend, who's in town visiting from Toronto, stomps up behind her and clamps a hand down on Trish's shoulder.

"Trish," Kennedy hisses. "We talked about this. You have to leave them alone. You're supposed to stay inside."

Trish frowns at her. "Yeah, but I'm the caterer. It's my job."

Kennedy props her free hand on her hip and frowns right back. "You're Clover's sister. Stop crashing her date."

Trish scoffs and wriggles out of Kennedy's grip before doing a sassy little head toss.

"But I'm not, like, a regular sister. I'm a cool sister."

Kennedy practically growls at her, but I can see her fighting back a smile. Instead of trying to argue with Trish, she looks over at the two of us and flashes an apologetic smile.

"Excuse my interfering girlfriend," she calls out. "We'll go back inside."

Before Trish can protest further, Kennedy slams the door shut. The noise of the bar is cut off, making the patio seem even quieter than before.

Clover is grinning and shaking her head. "You know she'll be back out here in five minutes."

I nod. "Absolutely."

We both chuckle and turn back to the table. I pour us each a glass of wine, and we get started on the salad.

By the time dessert rolls around, we're halfway through the wine bottle, and Trish has poked her head out the door to ask if we need anything approximately thirteen times. I half-expect Kennedy to appear with a shepherd's hook to loop around Trish's neck and yank her back into the bar.

"Should we finish this off?" I ask, lifting the wine bottle as Clover drains what's left in her glass.

We've both set our dessert forks down. We've somehow polished off a giant slab of tiramisu each despite being thoroughly stuffed by the previous courses.

Clover shakes her head and sets her glass down. "I need to drive us somewhere. We should bring the rest of that with us."

I tilt my head. "What do you mean?"

She gives me a mysterious smile. "You're not the only one who planned something for this date."

I protest about wanting to spoil her for a night, but she's not having it. She gets up and starts stacking our dishes and cutlery, humming along to the Lord Huron song playing on the speaker while that cheeky grin stays plastered on her face.

Despite my protests, the cheeky grin is in fact very intriguing—and also making it very hard to fight off the onslaught of very distracting images playing out in my mind as I watch her spaghetti strap slip down off her shoulder yet again.

I have to admit driving somewhere we won't be interrupted does sound like a good move. We decide to sneak out around the outside of the bar instead of dealing with all the people and noise inside. I'm sure Trish will be gutted to miss her chance to interrogate us, so I make a mental note to send her an extra large tip for her help, especially since she's refusing to let me pay for the catering.

The parking lot is stuffed to the brim with vehicles, but Clover still manages to maneuver the truck out onto the highway with ease.

"Have I ever told you how fucking hot it is when you drive a truck?" I ask her while we speed off in the direction of Three Rivers.

She grins, gaze still pinned to the road. "You may have mentioned it before."

"Well, I'm mentioning it again. It drives me crazy."

She lets out a throaty laugh. My thighs twitch at the sound.

"I like driving you crazy."

I'm so turned on it's hard to speak, so the rest of the drive is quiet. She turns in at the sign for Three Rivers, and I press my lips together to keep from letting out a disappointed groan.

I was really hoping for a secluded woodland glen we could spread a blanket in, or even an abandoned side road where we could jump into the back of the truck together. Really, anywhere we'd be guaranteed some alone time would work for me at this point, and Three Rivers isn't exactly a private location in the middle of its bustling high season.

Clover punches the code in for the gate and then steers us along a route I recognize after a few turns.

"Wait. Are we going to the yurt?" I ask.

All she does is chuckle in answer, and a flare of excitement shoots through me. Sure, it's a little risky considering it's not even fully dark out yet and the yurt is still nothing more than a platform and an empty frame, but if this evening turns out to be anything like the last time she took me out here at night, it'll be worth it.

We pull up to the yurt site, and my jaw drops before I've even gotten out of the car.

"Oh my god!" I shout. "You finished it?"

There's an actual real-life yurt out here, complete with a canvas covering, a wooden door, and an adorable round window. Two large solar lanterns flank the doorframe, and fairy lights twinkle along the edges of the platform. I feel like I'm stepping into the pages of a storybook as I jump out of the truck and race over to get a closer look.

"It looks amazing!" I say as I wander around the perimeter, taking in all the details.

"I had some help," Clover says, coming over to join me. "I figured since we're leaving at the end of the summer, I really need to make back the money I borrowed for this thing fast, so I got a couple of the staffers here to help me with the final steps. I'm going to get it listed on a few booking sites this week, but…"

I turn to look at her and find that same cheeky smile from earlier back on her face.

"But what?" I ask, stalking over to her.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to kiss her right here and now.

"But I thought we should, you know, give it a proper christening first."

"Clover," I say, leaning in to brush the tip of my nose along her jaw, "I hope you know I intend for this to be a very improper christening."

She shivers as I begin to trail my lips down the side of her neck. Her shirt's strap has slipped yet again, and this time, I can't resist the urge to clasp my teeth around the thin, silky strap and slide it back up over her shoulder. I give her delicate skin a gentle scrape with my teeth before I let go.

She makes a whimpering sound, blinking at me with hazy eyes, and all bets are off after that.

I grab her hips and pull her hard against me. She grabs fistfuls of my hair and tugs my head closer so she can slam her mouth against mine.

I moan, the taste of her so overpowering my eyelids flutter and my hips begin to rock into hers.

"Inside," I mutter against her lips. "Now."

I only give myself a couple seconds to look around the inside of the yurt once she's pulled the door open. The ceiling is festooned with rainbow-hued mini lights, and there's a fluffy faux-fur rug covering most of the floor. Most importantly, there's a bed. There's no bed frame, but still, there is a bed with blankets and pillows and plenty of space for me to spread her out and strip her out of her devious little outfit.

I pull her tight against me again as soon as we've stepped past the threshold, capturing her lips in another breathless kiss. She arches her back, pressing our chests together as she fumbles for the doorknob behind her.

Once we're concealed from whatever prying eyes might be wandering through the campground, I start walking her towards the bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second. She comes to a halt as the backs of her calves bump up against the mattress. I start to tip her over, aiming for the two of us to land in a romantically tangled heap on the bed.

"Neavh! Wait! No!"

She jerks her head away from mine, her eyes going wide, but it's too late to stop the fall.

"It's an—"

She doesn't have time to for the rest of her sentence before the two of us slam down hard on the mattress.

It pops.

The impact sets off a deafening bang that reverberates through the yurt, followed by a slow hissing sound as we begin to sink down to the ground.

"Air mattress," Clover finishes.

It takes me a minute to process what the hell just happened. By the time I realize what I've done, I can feel the hard boards of the floor poking up through the blankets.

"Oh," I say.

Clover bursts out laughing, rolling away from me so she can clutch her stomach.

"Oh my god," she wheezes. "You should have seen your face!"

"You couldn't have told me before I pushed you onto it?" I ask, swallowing my own laughter and fighting to keep a stern look on my face.

"I tried!" she says between guffaws. "You were soooo desperate to get me in bed you wouldn't listen."

I flip onto my side and reach over to grip the edge of her skirt.

"Desperate, huh?" I say as I begin to slide my fingertips up her thigh.

Her laughter fades, replaced by a heated glimmer in her eyes as my touch climbs even higher. Her lips part, her chest heaving. I watch the multi-coloured glow of the mini lights play across her skin.

"Now who's desperate?" I ask just as I reach the edge of her underwear.

She squeaks, her hips bucking up in an attempt to edge me closer to where she needs me.

I smirk. "That's what I thought."

I snatch my hand away, and she gasps before making a pouty face at me. Her pursed pink lips are enough to have me itching to whip her shirt off, but the deflating bed is doing its best to kill the mood. The hiss of the air escaping out from under us is still filling the yurt.

I sit up, which is a feat in and of itself considering the mattress tries to swallow me every time I move. I fight my way off it and onto the soft, thick rug instead.

"Come here," I say to Clover, and then try my hardest not to laugh as she copies my worm-like wriggle onto the floor.

The hissing stops now that our weight is no longer pushing the air out of the bed.

"Thankfully, the real mattress is arriving in a couple days," Clover says as she lies down beside me.

"Thankfully, you bought this nice rug." I trail my fingertips over the white wisps of the faux-fur. "You're going to look very good lying naked on this thing."

Her breath hitches, and I take the opportunity to hook my thumbs under the hem of her shirt. She sits up enough for me to lift it over her head, and as soon as I've tossed it to the floor and seen what she's got underneath, my brain ceases to function. My throat goes dry. I'm pretty sure my heart skips a few beats.

She's got nothing under the shirt.

"You weren't wearing a bra this whole time?" I demand.

She lifts her bare shoulders in a coy shrug. "I thought I'd make things easier for you."

I lunge for her, pinning her down against the rug and shifting my weight over her so I can kiss every inch of her stomach and chest.

She grabs my hair, tugging hard and writhing underneath me whenever my lips meet a sensitive spot. Her hips buck, and I groan against her sternum.

"How are you so goddamn gorgeous?" I mutter before I launch into another round of frenzied kisses.

I make my way up her neck and find her mouth again. She fists the back of my romper, and I curse myself for wearing something that's so complicated to take off. She had the right idea with this whole no bra thing.

"I want to feel you," she whispers against my lips. "I want to feel you on me."

I groan again, sweeping my tongue out for one last taste of her before I pull away. I roll off her and scramble out of my romper. She tries to do the same with her skirt, but I reach out and grab her wrist.

"Nuh-uh. Skirt stays on," I order. "For now."

She bites her lip and then begins to slide her underwear down her legs instead.

"Calice," I swear under my breath.

I fling my bra and underwear aside before I lay myself over her again. The feel of her skin against mine is absolute heaven—soft and warm and safe.

I feel so safe when I'm with her, like it's finally okay to stop running, like this is a place I can land.

We kiss for what feels like hours, stroking and caressing every part of each other we can reach as we grind our bodies together hard and fast enough to work up a sweat.

By the time I finally shift down between her legs, we're both wet for each other. I swear when I see the way her inner thighs are glistening.

"Do you want me to taste you?" I ask, hovering my mouth above her.

Her squirming anticipation is an answer itself, but I still want to hear it.

I still want a moment to remind myself that this woman—this gorgeous, perfect, incredible woman—wants me. She wants me here, now, exactly as I am.

"Yes," she breathes. "I want you to taste me. I need it so bad."

I don't have to be told twice. I get to work, licking and sucking her, lapping her up like she's the finest wine in the world.

The taste of her takes over all my senses. She's everything I feel, see, hear, and smell as she writhes and moans, calling my name loud enough that there's no way some unsuspecting camper out there won't hear us.

I don't care. I don't care about anything except making her feel good.

I prop myself up so I can give her my fingers as well as my tongue. She claws at the rug, moaning even louder as I slide deep inside her.

"More," she pants.

I add a second finger, and then—at more insistence from her—a third.

"Yes," she says, still panting hard. "Yes. Yes. So good."

I start thrusting slow and steady, working up to a faster rhythm as I continue circling her clit with my tongue. She's so wet my face is covered in it, and it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever felt in my life.

When she comes, she clamps her thighs around my head and rides my tongue hard, bucking and grinding to get every last ounce of pleasure. I moan along with her, so lost in the way she feels it's like I'm coming too. When she settles on the rug, shivering and making the sweetest little whimpering sounds I've ever heard, I give each of her inner thighs a final kiss before sliding back up to cover her body with mine.

Her eyes are still closed as she tilts her head to find my mouth for a kiss.

"You taste like me," she mumbles.

I practically growl as desire ricochets through my body, deepening the ache between my legs.

That can wait, though. For now, I just want to hold her.

We breathe together, our chests rising and falling in sync. She wraps her arms around me and hums. I sigh, and my breath shifts a few locks of hair that have escaped out of her braids.

"Neavh?" she says, her voice small, almost nervous.

The sound makes my chest get tight.

I don't ever want her to be nervous around me. I don't ever want her to have to be scared.

"Yes?" I say.

"You're not going to leave without me, right?"

I sit bolt upright and pull her up to straddle my lap. Framing her face with my hands, I peer deep into her eyes, staring at my own reflection as I will her to believe what I'm about to say. My shoulders shake as I tap into the deepest parts of who I am, the parts that exist without fear or pain or shame, the parts that are leading me now, letting me give her this promise and mean it.

"Never again."

We stare at each other for a few seconds before she tips forward to press her forehead to mine.

She nods against me, accepting the vow, and I sag with relief.

A jitter of nerves hits me in the silence, and I can't stop myself from murmuring, "You're coming with me, right?"

She pulls back, gazing at me with the same blazing fervor I gave to her.

"Always."