The fire shifted, flames bowing low as someone fed it another log. Shadows surged and stretched, painting Trenton’s face in gold and black. He leaned closer—not touching, not retreating—just enough that I could feel the heat of him at my side.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
A corner of his mouth curved. “That’s not what I meant.”
I glanced at him. “Then say what you mean.”
His gaze slid over me slowly, deliberately, like he was cataloging something he wasn’t ready to claim. “You don’t look like someone having fun.”
“Funny,” I said dryly. “I was thinking the same about you.”
That earned a low breath of a laugh. “I don’t come out here to relax.”
“Right. You come out here to brood artistically by firelight.”
He scoffed. “You think this is brooding?”
“I think you’re about
