Fire and Ice E-Book

Robin Brande

• Herausgeber: Ryer Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Shannon Wilkenson is smart, competitive, skilled at her job as a litigator.  What she isn't so skilled at is choosing the men in her life.  Thorsten seems to be everything she wants: charming, athletic, quick-witted.  The smart thing to do is stay far away from him. But Thorsten has other plans.

Can two people experienced at the game of seduction surrender to the possibility of love?

**Look for HEART OF ICE, Book 1 in the Hearts on Fire duo.
 

Leseprobe

FIRE AND ICE

(HEARTS ON FIRE, BOOK 2)

ROBIN BRANDE

RYER PUBLISHING

FIRE AND ICE

(Hearts on Fire, Book 2)

By Robin Brande

Published by Ryer Publishing

www.ryerpublishing.com

Original Copyright 2012 by Elizabeth Ruston/Robin Brande

Revised Copyright 2014 by Robin Brande

www.robinbrande.com

All rights reserved.

Cover photos Dreamstime.com

Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

www.gobookcoverdesign.com

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Freefall Preview

About the Author

Also by Robin Brande

1

“You think I look hot in my tuxedo,” Thorsten said.

The truth was, Shannon had been thinking exactly that. Thorsten’s jacket hugged his wide shoulders and trim athletic torso perfectly. His work as a kayaking and wilderness guide had sculpted his body into the proportions Shannon liked. His crisp white shirt and black tie drew attention to the square jaw above it, the full, upcurved lips, the careless tousle of wavy brown hair, his soft blue eyes.

Enjoy the scenery, Shannon reminded herself, but that’s as far as it goes.

She shrugged. “Even Quasimodo looked good in a tux.”

“You think I don’t know who that is.”

“I’m hoping you do.”

Thorsten smiled. He leaned casually against the wall of the banquet hall and handed Shannon a glass of wine. “Skál,” he said, clinking his own glass against hers.

“Scowl,” Shannon repeated. If she hadn’t heard Thorsten give the Icelandic cheer several times at the rehearsal dinner the night before, she might have thought he was commenting on her expression.

They had been bantering like this since the rehearsal dinner, Shannon always just a step ahead of Thorsten’s flirtation. He was charming and not hard to look at, and that was the problem. She had seen plenty of both in recent times and had lost her taste for it. Charming men required extra precautions. Inevitably flirtation led to passion led to discovery, then straight to disappointment. She had yet to meet a man who lived up to his own hype.

She had decided on the plane down to Arizona that what she needed in her life instead was a dog. Or a fish—something simple that didn’t ask much more than to be fed and noticed. A plant might do. She would have to look into it when she returned home from her cousin’s wedding.

“You look hot, too,” Thorsten told her.

“Thanks, but we don’t really say ‘hot’ here once we’re over thirty.”

“I still think you’re hot. You smell nice, too.”

“It’s soap.”

“Soap. Hmm. I’ll try that. Our people have always used whale blubber.”

She had to admire Thorsten’s ability to keep up with her—especially considering English was his second language. Shannon had met plenty of American men who would have given up the chase by now, realizing she presented too much of a challenge. It was why she dated fellow attorneys more than men with any other occupation—she liked the mental stimulation offered by a man who could give as good as he got. But right now she wasn’t looking for any kind of stimulation. She just wanted a week of relaxation with her family.

Still, she found herself looking forward to her interactions with the groom’s brother. Whenever Thorsten approached she braced for another volley. She liked his quick humor. She liked the sound of his voice. His accent was subtle and melodic—the round vowels, the soft roll of his r’s. At the rehearsal dinner the night before she eavesdropped as Thorsten and his brother Kjartan conversed in Icelandic. She liked listening to the lilt of it, to the rhythm and cadence of the ancient Viking tongue.

There was no harm in simply talking to him, Shannon rationalized. She could spar with Thorsten without worrying what it might lead to. After the wedding they would never see each other again. Thorsten would return to Iceland, Shannon to Minneapolis—it was a no-risk game as long as she stayed on her side of the boundary and he stayed on his. And she meant to enforce that line.

Shannon took a sip of wine and surveyed the room. Annie and Kjartan were still trapped near the entrance, unable to move past the throng of well-wishers. Shannon’s brothers had already made it to the bar, and now hovered near the buffet table. About fifty other guests roamed the banquet hall. The DJ warmed up with slow, quiet love songs.

Shannon leaned against the wall and glanced at Thorsten from the corner of her eye. “That was a nice thing you said about your brother during the ceremony.”

Thorsten shrugged. “I stole it from a book.”

“What was the part you said in Icelandic?”

“It’s an old Viking toast: Hurry your sheep to your own pasture.”

“That sounds nice. What does it mean?”

“It means your wife has two large brothers—don’t let them see you messing around.”

“What does it really mean?”

“Have a happy marriage. Make a happy home.”

Shannon peered at him skeptically. “Never mind. I’ll ask Kjartan.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Not so far.”

The crowd around Annie and Kjartan had dispersed by now, freeing the newlyweds to aim for the buffet.

Shannon pushed away from the wall. “Time to go hug my cousin.”

Thorsten caught her arm. “You’re not dancing with anyone but me tonight. Promise.”

Shannon tried to ignore the feeling that shot through her, just from that light contact. “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way.” She loosened his hand.

“It’s just you and me from now on, baby. No one loves you the way I do.”

Shannon cocked an eyebrow. “Where did you learn your English—from old gangster movies?”

“I watch American TV all the time—lawyer shows, police shows, hospital shows. I know all the latest words.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Get me 10 cc’s of saline—stat!”

“Very good. And useful, in case someone here needs a pretend doctor.”

“I read American books, too. I like to keep up on how to seduce American women.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Shannon scanned the women at the reception. “Which one are you going to seduce?”

Thorsten slipped his arm around her waist. He leaned toward her and whispered, “Don’t pretend you don’t like me. I know you do.”

His warm breath on her ear, his confident banter, the feeling of his hip against hers and his arm draped so casually around her waist—she was surprised by how much it flustered her. Steady, girl. You’re just out of practice.

“I guess I haven’t watched enough TV lately,” she answered. “I didn’t know this was how it’s done. Does this work on Icelandic women, too?”

“Oh, no. I’d use a totally different method if you were from Iceland. I wouldn’t be so subtle.”

“Subtle, huh? Yeah, you’re certainly that.”

“So what about it—you and me? Forever?”

She stepped out of his embrace and patted his chest. “I’ll think it over. Let me see what other offers I get tonight.”

His smile was dangerously close to irresistible. “I know you’ll be back. Anyone can see we’re perfect for each other.”

Shannon shook her head. “You’re nothing like your brother.”

“And you’re nothing like your cousin.” Thorsten leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially. “Kjartan wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. I know exactly what you want.”

“Oh, yeah? Two more weeks of vacation and a new pair of skis? Who told you?”

Thorsten grinned. “I can wait longer than you can, sugarplum. I’m used to long cold winters. I’ll be back for our first dance.”

Thorsten drifted casually into the crowd before Shannon could come up with the snappy retort that she knew was trapped somewhere there in the back of her throat.

Sugarplum? Give me a break.

Still, she couldn’t deny that warm flush on her cheeks. She was too jaded to blush anymore, but there it was. Snap out of it.

The only remedy was to keep her distance. She angled toward Annie, but found her already engulfed in another ring of guests. Shannon searched for her brothers and found them at the far end of the room. She headed for the comfort of family.

But Thorsten beat her to them. Shannon veered off, searching for her mother, an acquaintance—anyone.

“Hey, Shan!” her brother Chris called. Reluctantly Shannon turned. He waved her over. She shook her head and pointed toward the bar. “Okay,” Chris said, “but come right back.”

Great. Shannon ditched the wine glass and switched to something more her taste—a dark Mexican beer with a chunk of lime floating on top. She took her time getting back. Thorsten was still there.

Shannon took a sip from the bottle and did her best to focus on her brothers. “What’s up?”

“Will had a great idea.”

“That’s new.” She could hear the change in her voice. It seemed to have dropped an octave, the way it did whenever she talked to opposing counsel on the phone. She was in control again. No more girlish reactions.

“Thorsten’s going to take Will’s place on our backpacking trip.”

She didn’t realize she was staring at Thorsten until he turned and locked eyes with her. He smiled innocently. Shannon looked away and took another sip of beer while she devised a compelling argument against the plan.

“Hmm,” she stalled. “Um, I don’t know...”

Wipe that grin off your face, Thorsten. No way you’re going.

“I brought all that gear,” Will explained. “Thorsten might as well use it.”

What had originally been planned as a backpacking trip for Shannon and all three of her brothers was now a brother short. Will had gotten a call from his boss the night before, asking him to come back for an emergency meeting of the engineering team on Monday.

Shannon shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” her youngest brother Michael challenged.

“It’s a pretty advanced hike.”

“I think he can handle it, Shan. It’s his job.”

She tried again. “It’s a family trip.”

“He’s family now,” Michael pointed out. “We’re cousins-in-law.”

“Look, Thorsten, no offense,” Shannon said, “but this is a time for my brothers and me to be together. You understand.”

“Sure.” He gazed at her with the unmistakable confidence of a man who knew he would win in the end.

“Sorry, B.C.,” Michael said with finality, “he’s going.”

“B.C.?” Thorsten asked. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Shannon and her brothers answered in unison. Thank goodness for that, she thought. They haven’t turned on me completely.

But she wasn’t finished yet. “There are snakes out there, Thorsten—rattlers. There’s scorpions, and—”

“Giants and ogres and elves,” Thorsten replied. “We have those, too. Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. I’d love to go. I’ve always wanted to backpack in America.”

“Good,” Michael said, “it’s settled.”

Shannon fumbled. “It’s not settled—”

“What’s the problem?” Chris asked her. “Don’t you like Thorsten?”

Shannon favored her oldest brother with a deadly glare. “Of course I like him,” she answered with false sweetness. “Who wouldn’t?”

She could feel Thorsten’s eyes. She would not look his way.

“Okay,” Chris said. “Good.” He turned to Thorsten. “We’ll look at Will’s gear tomorrow morning. I’m sure his pack’ll fit you.”

“He doesn’t have boots,” Shannon tried, but her heart was no longer in it. She knew she had been bested, but her training as a litigator taught her to keep fighting no matter how long the odds.

“I do, actually,” Thorsten answered. “I hoped to do some hiking when I was here.”

“Great,” Shannon mumbled. The rest of the plans filtered in and out of her ears as she stood there finishing her beer. Four days of concentrated Thorsten. So much for relaxing with the boys and enjoying nature.

Eventually the conversation turned to other topics. Shannon felt a touch at her elbow. Thorsten motioned for her to follow him out of earshot of her brothers. “If you really don’t want me to go...”

“It’s fine,” she answered in a tone intended to convey just the opposite. “Of course you can come.” Her voice was deep again, stiff. She was all business.

Thorsten regarded her silently for a moment, then said, “Okay, good. Sounds like fun.”

Shannon mumbled some excuse and escaped in search of Annie. She lingered near the bride waiting for the chance to speak in private.

“It’s a conspiracy,” Shannon said when they were alone. “Somehow Thorsten convinced my brothers to let him come on our backpacking trip. You need to do something. Doesn’t Thorsten have to stay here and help you guys pack up the house?”

Annie smiled sympathetically. “Sorry, but the truth is I’m glad he’s going. I wasn’t sure how we were going to entertain him this week. We’re going to be pretty busy.”

“Look,” Shannon said, “I have a problem with the guy, okay? I’ll admit it—he’s a little...too cute for me.”

“You mean you like him?”

“No.” She pointed sternly at Annie’s smile. “No. But he’s trying something with me, and I don’t really feel like dealing with it.”

“Trying what?”

“Trying to pull off another Icelandic seduction, like Kjartan did with you.”

Annie laughed. “Believe me, Kjartan wasn’t trying—it just happened.”

“Yeah, well Thorsten is working very hard on the project.” Shannon shook her head wearily. “I just don’t have the energy for it right now.”

“You mean to resist him?” Annie asked, “or to take him up on it?”

Thorsten studied the cousins from across the room. Superficially they were similar: Both were 32, both had dark brown hair, gray-green eyes, and short, shapely bodies. But the similarities ended there.

Annie was open, forthright, easy to know. No other woman could have coaxed Thorsten’s brother Kjartan out of his retirement from love. Annie’s warmth and romantic view of the world had proven to be just the cure Kjartan needed.

Shannon was a different woman entirely—more guarded. She was competitive—he could see that from their conversations, the way she never wanted to give him the last word. She looked sturdier, more athletic than her cousin. Shannon’s short, sleeveless blue dress showcased both her feminine curves and the round, sexy muscles of her shoulders and calves. She looked fit, rather than skinny. When he wrapped his arm around her waist he felt real flesh, not the unappealing boniness of a woman obsessed with her weight. In fact, he had rarely seen a woman eat with as much enthusiasm as Shannon had at the rehearsal dinner the night before.

Her loose, short curls framed her round face and lent her an angelic look that probably gave many men the wrong impression. She wasn’t sugar and spice—far from it. Inside that soft, appealing package lurked the hardened heart of a warrior.

Or did it?

He had been watching her now for two days. The cool, tough persona she offered him was not the one she shared with her family. Watching her interact with her brothers and her cousins, Thorsten saw what he believed was the real her: a woman of humor, of charm, of genuine softness toward those she loved. He saw it in the way she looked at them, laughed with them, teased them. When she was relaxed, her guard down, she could light up the room like a bonfire.

Why not enjoy his holiday? He hadn’t expected a diversion like this, but why not see how far he could take it? Thorsten appreciated a challenge—it was why he climbed glaciers and kayaked open seas and backpacked alone in the Icelandic wilderness. If not for a little risk, how would he know what he was capable of? If not for the occasional gamble, who knew what prizes he might be missing?

Four days. Not much time, but if he played it right, that might be long enough.

The problem with weddings, Shannon thought, was all the false expectations they created: that from then on life would be perfect, that love conquers all, that the formality of a wedding was all it took to bind two people together for life.

Her own wedding had been a simple affair of a judge, two witnesses, a bouquet of mixed buds from the florist strategically-located a block from the courthouse. She hadn’t told anyone she was getting married until after the ceremony. That should have been a sign.

She rationalized it at the time as refusing to buy into all the pomp and expense of a traditional wedding. In truth, she was rushing ahead, afraid to look where she was going. She was twenty-three and felt certain she knew everything there was to know about men. Erik seemed as good a mate as any she’d met, and Shannon prided herself on her ability to make quick decisions. In retrospect, it was the one time she wished she had had a failure of nerve. The marriage lasted less than a year, but its lessons were permanently ingrained: Fast love is bad love. It can be fun, exciting, a physical thrill, but it doesn’t last.

Love like Annie’s? That lasted. Annie had fallen for Kjartan as quickly as Shannon had fallen for her husband, but the difference lay in the women themselves. Annie was sensible and cautious about her heart. She had held onto her virginity beyond the bounds of good sense, and seemed all the better for it. She didn’t have that hard edge Shannon heard in her own voice sometimes when interviewing a prospective lover. Promises of love left Shannon cold. A threat of passion, however, always qualified as a winning answer.

But even that wasn’t enough any more. She had spent too much energy the past few years speeding from one brief, intense affair to the next. She didn’t have the heart for it anymore. The problem was, she didn’t have the heart for more than that, either.

She hadn’t always been so skeptical of romance, but having seen its darker side—in the infidelities of her parents and boyfriends, and the short unhappy course of her own marriage—she knew it was foolish to regard love with anything less than cynicism. She liked men, liked their company. Growing up with brothers like hers had imprinted her with a fundamental appreciation for men’s finer qualities. But having a good time with a man did not mean she was ready to open herself up again to another hurt so deep and lasting as the one she had inflicted on herself almost a decade before. She was not marriage material—she knew it, and had set free any lover who was unwilling to believe her. Some people, like Annie, were made for it. Shannon clearly was not.

She wouldn’t have minded a fling with Thorsten, but then what? Shake his hand at the airport and add another gold star to her calendar? Besides, she was much more interested in her long-term relationship with her brothers than with the flash of passion Thorsten might offer. She had come to Tucson to have a good time with her family and to watch her cousin marry the man she loved. She hadn’t come to embroil herself in whatever passed for an Icelandic mating ritual.

No, she had made up her mind and would stick to her plan. Once she decided nothing was going to happen with a man, she always managed to extricate herself before the flirtation went too far. Just like a judge slamming down her gavel: Case dismissed. Next case.

Thorsten’s hand rested easily in the small of her back. She hadn’t seen him come toward her. Shannon felt a shock of heat moving from her spine down her legs.

“Let’s be friendly,” Thorsten urged her. “Come dance with me.”

Just say no.

“All right.” She let him take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. When he drew her in, she went. She laid her cheek against his chest, let her body rest lightly against his. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She shifted away, but he pulled her in even closer than before.

Thorsten folded her hand into his chest and held it there almost protectively. He shuffled slowly, barely moving, holding her in an embrace so light she felt free, yet so charged with controlled intensity she had no doubt where the moment might lead them if she let it.

Shannon lifted her face and dared to look into his eyes. Thorsten dipped his head towards hers until his lips hovered just a breath away from hers.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears—timid, unsure.

Thorsten lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. She felt her pulse beating against his lips. He folded her hand into his chest and regarded her with a directness she hadn’t expected. She looked away, conscious of the heat rising from her core. No good, Shan. Handle it.

“If you’re coming on this backpacking trip because you think something’s going to happen between us, forget it right now,” she warned him.

“That’s not why I’m coming.”

“Good.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. His eyes were as provocative as his embrace.

“I’m here to have a good time with my family,” Shannon continued. “I’m not interested in a fling. If you think you can behave yourself, then you can come along. But if you think you’re crawling into my sleeping bag—”

“I’m shocked you would think that.”

“I’m serious, Thorsten. Nothing puts me in a worse mood than being played when I don’t want to be. If that’s really why you’re coming, don’t bother. Stay here with Annie and Kjartan.”

The soft sighs of violin gave way to bass and drums and a steady rock beat. Thorsten released his hold on her, but leaned close so she could hear. He was suddenly serious—a side of him she hadn’t seen yet.

She could feel his lips vibrating against her ear. “I would like nothing better than to take you to bed,” he said, “but I’m not going to work for it this hard. I like women who like me. I don’t have to beg anyone.”

Shannon’s breath quickened. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I just wanted to be clear—”

“You were.” He stood tall again, his expression betraying nothing.

“Okay.” She felt awkward, foolish, as if she had misread the cues. But hadn’t he admitted it? He said he wanted to take her to bed—she hadn’t misunderstood.

“Good night,” he said. He turned to go.

She gripped his arm. “Wait—” The music pounded in her head. She pulled Thorsten toward her so he could hear. “So, we’ll just go on this backpack, right? No problems.”

“No problems,” he agreed. “I already told you, sugarplum—I can wait longer than you can.”

2

“Hey, lazy,” Michael called to Shannon, “you coming out?”

“In a minute.”

This was one of her favorite things: to sit in her tent, swaddled in sleeping bag, watching the sun creep down the canyon walls, sipping coffee to warm and wake her, the blue fleece hat preserving her body heat, her feet warm in their socks. The men were up, sitting in camp chairs they’d made out of their sleeping pads, drinking coffee and quietly savoring the dawn. Shannon watched them through the mesh tent door, in no rush to join them.

At times like this she couldn’t imagine herself back in the office, wearing pantyhose and high heels, taking calls from clients and other attorneys, preparing motions and appellate briefs and opinion letters. The job paid for her pleasures—her beautiful old house in downtown Minneapolis, the traveling, the outdoor toys—but life as a lawyer was less fulfilling than she imagined. She could do the work—it suited her style and temperament—but being good at her job was not the same thing as loving it.

She experienced two rival reactions toward her work: energetic engagement and utter apathy. When she was on, she was on. She could manage a case load that would bury another lawyer. She spent months going from one trial to the next, barely stopping to catch her breath before girding for war once again and charging off. She won trials, she lost them, but there was always the next thing tugging at her skirts for attention, so the highs were never too high and the lows never rock-bottom.

And then came the inevitable crash, when her brain couldn’t take in one more fact, her mouth couldn’t muster one more argument. She crawled home after days like that and stared at her calendar, counting the days until her next vacation.

When the firm offered her junior partner status, Shannon saw her opportunity. Instead of accepting the standard raise that came with the position, she had negotiated for more vacation time than anyone in the firm. She would ask for even more the next time she came up for review. What good was working so hard if she couldn’t play that hard as well?

Now she took eight weeks off during the year. She worked as hard as ever for a few months at a time, and lived for that moment when she could close her files and leave without any remorse for what she was missing. She rarely called into the office when she was away. She didn’t have that need some other lawyers in her office had to micromanage every aspect of her practice. She was good enough now that clients forgave her these disappearances. Shannon trained her staff not to bother her on vacation. When she was at the office, she was there one hundred percent, working seven days a week, twelve-hour days. When she was away, it was as though she had never heard of the firm.

Her social life seemed to follow a similar pattern. She went months without looking at men, happy to concentrate on work or her house or catching up on her sleep. Then a flirtation might snag her attention, and if it occurred close enough to one of her vacations, she might pursue it. She often combined first dates with skiing or mountain biking or hiking. No point in pursuing a relationship with someone who couldn’t do what she wanted in what little free time she found.

“Thorsten’s making your oatmeal,” Michael prodded.

“All right, all right, I’m coming.”

Shannon zipped up the inner door to her tent, blocking her from the men’s view. She slipped out of her long johns into hiking shorts and a short-sleeved top. She pulled off her hat and combed her fingers through her curls.

Then she stopped herself. Who are you doing that for? You wouldn’t care howyou looked if you were here with just the boys.

She snugged the hat back on and added a layer of fleece pants and coat over her hiking clothes. She unzipped the tent and went out as-is.

Thorsten seemed to have taken equal care with his appearance. He wore Will’s sweatpants— too short for him by a couple of inches— and his own long-sleeved cotton T-shirt, threadbare and stained. Shannon had never seen him in glasses. They made him look almost academic—serious. The twig tangled in his wavy brown hair added to the aura of absent-minded professor.

Shannon’s brothers grunted to her, but Thorsten greeted her with a smile as warm as the advancing sun. “Good morning.”

She couldn’t resist smiling back. Apparently he didn’t understand the convention of speaking as little as possible until after breakfast.

Shannon freshened her coffee and settled into her camp chair to watch Thorsten assemble breakfast. He poured maple-flavored instant oatmeal into four bowls, then topped each with walnuts, dried fruit, and heaping spoonfuls of dried milk. He added just enough boiling water to turn the concoctions into rib-sticking glue.

Her eyes lingered on Thorsten’s as he handed her a bowl. Definitely cute, she had to admit. And, to his credit, a better camp cook than any man she’d ever met.

While making their final plans for the trip, Thorsten had offered to prepare all their meals, since the others had already supplied the food. Shannon and her brothers readily accepted—cooking was the least of their outdoor skills. The night before they left, Michael took Thorsten to the grocery store to pick up a few “extras.” Already they had relished the delicious effect of those extras.

After their first day spent trudging down dusty canyon trails and up rocky hillsides, sweating under a warm April sun, Shannon and her brothers had treated themselves to a dip in the stream near their campsite. Thorsten stayed in camp to unpack the cooking gear and prepare his first course. He retrieved them from streamside once the soup was simmering.

Appetizers: cream of mushroom soup and crackers topped with Gorgonzola cheese and dried apricots. Dinner was angel hair pasta and spaghetti sauce supplemented with fresh garlic, rehydrated sun-dried tomatoes, fresh basil, and slivers of Parmesan. For dessert, Thorsten broke off squares of expensive European chocolate and sank them into mugs of hot cocoa.

Michael moaned contentedly as he sipped the rich chocolate. “Okay, Thorsten, I don’t normally say this to guys, but...I think I love you, man.”

Thorsten deepened his voice. “Thank you, Michael.”

“If you were a woman,” Michael continued, “I would definitely marry you.” He turned to his big sister. “Want to handle that for us, Shan? Then he can come camping with us all the time.”

“You mean like when you wanted me to go out with the Ferrari salesman?”

“Totally different,” Michael said. “I admit that was just for me—but this is for all of us.”

Shannon glanced at Thorsten over the rim of her mug. He caught her eye and winked. She quickly looked away.

“I need a wash,” Thorsten announced when they were finished with the soup. “Can I change in your tent?”

“Sure,” Chris answered, “but didn’t you bring Will’s tent?”

“No, I decided not to. I never get to sleep under the stars at home—it’s always raining or too cold. This might be my only chance.” He ducked into Chris and Michael’s tent and changed into bright orange swim trunks, then hiked to the stream in the last of the evening’s light.

Shannon’s brothers took advantage of his absence.

“Well, I’d say he’s trying pretty hard,” Michael observed.

“No kidding,” Chris agreed.

“Trying what?” Shannon asked.

“To impress you.”

“What? No, he’s not.”

“Oh, really?” Michael said. “Do you think he’d be cooking like this for just me and Chris?”

“I don’t know, maybe. You did tell him you loved him.”

“So what’s wrong with him?” Chris asked her. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Shannon answered defensively. “Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I kind of like him for you,” Chris answered.

“I’m afraid you’re not qualified to pick my men.”

Michael snorted. “Neither are you. I remember the last guy—what was his name?”

“Oh, yeah,” Chris nodded, “Barry, wasn’t it? Isn’t he the one who wouldn’t stop talking?”

“Morning till night,” Michael confirmed. “‘Then I won this case,’“ he mocked. “‘Then I won that one. Then I made a million dollars. Then I bought fifteen Rolexes—one to go with each of my cars. Then I—’”

“He wasn’t like that,” Shannon protested.