“Uh. No. I wouldn’t challenge any snake.”

  “Right.” He nodded sharply. “So I can trust you to rely on your survival instincts. Bert? Not so much.”

  “Hmm. Okay. Fair enough. But if you see a snake coming that’s several times my size, at least give me a heads up.”

  He laughed, unaware of what that did to my senses. “Look, if you can’t see or hear something that big coming your way…” He showed his palms. “You’re on your own, my friend.”

  “Hmph. Fine.” I brought my drink up to my lips. “See if I warn you before that big-ass spider gets to your hand.”

  “Oh, ha, ha.”

  I shrugged and took a sip.

  Marcus stilled. “You…are joking, right?”

  “Hmm?” I turned an innocent look on him. “About what?”

  His eyebrow arched.

  I let my eyes flick toward his glass, which he was loosely grasping on the picnic table.

  He narrowed his eyes, clearly debating whether to fall for my bullshit or look to see if there really was a spider heading toward his hand.

  Finally, he apparently decided to err on the side of obeying his survival instinct, and he looked toward his glass.

  And promptly flew to his feet. “Jesus Christ!”

  I howled with laughter. “What? You thought I was lying?”

  “Yes! Oh my God.” He nudged his chair away from the table, eyeing the enormous wolf spider warily. “How long has that thing been there?”

  “I don’t know. A while. I thought you saw it!”

  “No! I didn’t!” He sat down again, chafing his arms as he eyed the spider. “Holy fuck.”

  “How did you not see that?” I chuckled. “I figured you’d have heard it coming.”

  Marcus shuddered. He started to reach for his drink but seemed to think better of it. “You know what? That’s his iced tea now.” He pushed himself to his feet and started toward the trailer. “I think I need some wine.”

  “Make sure you bring a glass for the spider!”

  He muttered something I didn’t catch, and I snickered before taking another drink.

  When Marcus returned, he had a bottle of wine in hand and a corkscrew. He tugged his chair farther away from the spider with his foot, then sat down with a huff. “Ugh. Creepy little fucker.”

  “What? He just wants to make friends.”

  “Yeah, well.” He started opening the bottle. “I don’t make friends with spiders.”

  “You didn’t squash it, though, so there’s that.”

  “Oh, no. Of course not.” He paused to tug the cork free. “I don’t want them on me or even all that close to me, but I won’t kill them. Hell, one of my old housemates and I found a black widow in our garage. Our other housemates wanted to kill her, but we said as long as she kept eating bugs, she could stay.”

  I cocked a brow. “So…you let a black widow stay. In your garage.”

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugged as he leaned forward to toss the corkscrew and cork onto the table, well away from where it might land on the spider. “As long as she left tribute, we considered that her portion of the rent.”

  “Don’t tell me she had a name, too.”

  “Shelly.”

  I blinked. “Shelly?”

  He nodded, looking around for something as he said, “My housemate’s grandma’s name. She was the type who’d carry bugs and spiders outside instead of—for fuck’s sake. Did I forget to bring glasses out here?”

  “Uh. Looks like it.” I nodded toward the one he’d been using earlier. “You could always dump that one out and pour wine in it.”

  He eyed it, watching the spider poke one leg at the ring of condensation on the table. “You know, I think he can have it.” With a shrug, he sat back. “Fuck it.” Then he took a pull straight from the wine bottle.

  I laughed. “I like how you think.”

  He grinned as he offered it to me. “Happy to share.”

  I hesitated, but then reminded myself that we’d been living and driving in close quarters for days. Pandemic habits died hard, but if either of us was going to give the other something, we probably would’ve by now. So, I took the bottle, gestured in a mock toast, and drank.

  “Oh, man.” I lowered the bottle and handed it back to him. “I can’t even remember the last time I tasted wine.”

  “Really?” Beat. “Shit, I’m sorry. I completely spaced and—”

  “Nah, don’t sweat it.” I waved a hand. “There’s times I almost forget where I was for the last few months.”

  “You do?”

  “Kind of. I mean, it’s not so much that I forget. It just doesn’t feel real, you know?”

  He rolled another sip of wine around in his mouth for a moment before offering the bottle back to me. “I guess I can see that. Sometimes I think that way about the pandemic. The first year, I mean, when things were really bad and all.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. Like, I vividly remember months on end of not being able to go anywhere, worrying about people I knew who were high risk or couldn’t stay home—all of that. Then the vaccine came out, and we could kind of function like normal again. I masked religiously for almost two years. Then overnight, it was like I’d see someone wearing a mask and think, ‘Wow, that all really happened, didn’t it?’”

  I nodded as he spoke. “Exactly. I used to work with a guy who went to combat, and he said kind of same thing. He was in a warzone for what felt like forever, and it seemed like it was never going to end. Then he was home, and suddenly it didn’t seem real anymore. Like a really, really bad dream.”

  “The human mind is a strange place,” he muttered.

  I raised the bottle again, then took another drink. “So I guess that happened with my relationship falling apart and being homeless. I know it was real. I remember it vividly. But sometimes…” I shook my head. “Sometimes it feels like one of those nightmares that leaves you kind of rattled the next day even though you knew it was a dream.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered.

  We sat in silence for a long time, passing the bottle of wine back and forth. When that bottle ran out, Marcus went inside for another—something a little sweeter this time—and we kept drinking.

  As the serenity of the evening settled in, my homelessness felt even farther away. Technically, I was still homeless, but I didn’t have to sleep in my car or outside. I didn’t have to be on constant guard or in a never-ending state of semi-panic over losing what little food or shelter I had.

  And sitting here now, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stared up at the sky. All those months I’d been on the street, I’d kept my eyes down. Searching for shelter. Keeping watch for danger. Avoiding the gazes of passersby. Stars were a luxury for people with food and beds.

  Tonight, I had a place to sleep. I had a place to go. I had the luxury of being still and calm, gazing up at a star-dusted sky after a good meal, sharing a bottle of wine (or two) with someone who didn’t have to be this kind.

  I would’ve been stupid to turn down Marcus’s offer of a lift to Chicago, but this moment—the food, the wine, the stars—wasn’t out of necessity. It wasn’t survival.

  It was relaxing. It was peaceful. It was the most decadent, luxurious thing I’d ever experienced in my life, and I didn’t know what it meant that I was not only grateful to be living this moment, I was grateful to be living it here.

  With him.

  I pulled my gaze down from the stars and slid it toward Marcus. His attention was still fixed on the sky, his face just barely visible thanks to the soft glow from inside the trailer. His features were relaxed, his lips curving into the subtle smile of a man who was perfectly content existing in the here and now. He had worries and stress just like everyone else. I was pretty sure he was still losing sleep over that other influencer’s bullshit video.

  But if only for right now, he was content.

  And Jesus Christ, he was beautiful.

  Maybe I was biased because I viewed him through gratitude-tinted lenses. This man had quite possibly saved my life, and he’d been nothing but kind to me, going above and beyond what anyone needed to do for a stranger. Even if I’d been a third party watching him scrape someone else up off the pavement, I think I’d have been breathless over him. I didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that altruism to appreciate it. Sort of like how I melted every time I watched him fawning all over his animals.

  But I had been on the receiving end of his kindness, and yes, there was definitely a part of me that wanted to move mountains for him, as if that could maybe scratch the surface of showing how grateful I was and how amazing he was.

  That wasn’t the only thing that had my heart doing foolish things every time I looked at him or heard his voice, though. I couldn’t even blame the wine, because I’d noticed on day one that he was fucking adorable. He was like a living, breathing list of everything that could make me lose my mind over a man.

  And like, I didn’t need a man to be magazine cover material to find him attractive. Most of the guys I’d dated or hooked up with had been as average as I was.

  Marcus… He turned heads, and rightfully so. He wasn’t ripped or anything, but he had a eyes that could stop traffic and a smile that made me forget my own name. His dark hair was perfect whether it was flawlessly styled, finger-combed after a shower, or curling out from beneath a baseball cap. The way he laughed. The way he’d shuffle out of bed in the morning, looking like he’d rather eat glass than go for a run, but then be so easily manipulated into it by Ernie. Twice, I’d seen him groan, stuff his feet into his sneakers, and mutter, “All right, all right, let’s go,” prompting Ernie to lose his mind with excitement, at which point an indulgent smile would peek through the morning grumpiness. By the time they came back, Marcus would be all smiles.

  All the things he’d done for me notwithstanding, how in the world could I not be helplessly attracted to this man?

  He just had to be queer, too, didn’t he? Because that helped me keep my head around him. He could easily do better than a loser who needed to move back in with his mom to stay off the streets.

  A sizeable portion of wine was, however, apparently enough to convince me that I had a snowball’s chance in hell with him. Well, at least enough to think about it. I’d always been painfully shy with attractive men—thank God for dating apps, or I’d never have met anyone (though in hindsight, maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing). Anyway. At least my inability to make a first move would keep me from saying or doing something to embarrass myself.

  Unaware of me staring at him, Marcus sighed happily. “Man. I never get tired of doing this.”

  I turned to him, and his gaze was fixed on the sky.

  I’d forgotten all about the stars glittering above us, but I remembered them now, and I tilted my head back to stare upward. “It won’t look like this when we get to the city.”

  “Never does,” he murmured. “That’s one of the things I like about traveling through the wilderness. The drive can get monotonous, but the nights are worth it.”

  Ooh, I had definitely had a little too much wine, because I almost asked him if an amazing overhead view was the only thing that made the nights worth it. Somehow holding on to my dignity, I said, “I bet they are. This was one of the things I loved about Albuquerque. And California, now that I think about it.”

  Though I was still watching the sky, I felt his gaze on me. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Went down to Big Sur a few times. It’s just…” I exhaled and shook my head, gesturing upward. “This above an ocean. It’s amazing.”

  Marcus whistled low. “Wish I could’ve seen that.”

  “You didn’t? I mean, not Big Sur, but you went through the more remote parts of California, right?”

  “Yeah, but… fire season.”

  “Oh.” I grimaced. “So you probably didn’t see much out there at all.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  There was a quiet slosh—the sound of Marcus taking another drink from the bottle. When I turned to him, he offered it to me, and I accepted it even though I probably shouldn’t have had anything more to drink. Not when I was out here in this dreamy state of mind with this incredibly gorgeous man.

  Oh well. I hadn’t gotten to where I was by making smart decisions with a lot of foresight, so why start now? Bottoms up.

  After several more swigs apiece, Marcus went on, “I’d like to do the West Coast again. Maybe when it’s not quite so smoky.” He paused. “What I really want to do is hit Alaska.” He gestured at the sky. “I’d love to see the northern lights.”

  I sighed. “God, that would be amazing.”

  “Right? But prime viewing season is during the winter, and I’m not sure how much I want to be hauling this thing around in Alaska in the winter.”

  “Yeah, good point.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, the wine was starting to come through in his voice. He wasn’t quite slurring, just sounded…relaxed. Talking in that unrestrained way people did when they had a good buzz.

  “Maybe when I’m done with this whole pizza road trip,” he mused, “I’ll do, like, a series that gives me an excuse to hunker down in Alaska for a few months. Spend the whole winter up there, moving around when the weather is good but staying in one place when it goes to shit.”

  “You could do something about cooking on the road,” I offered, similarly buzzed, especially since my alcohol tolerance wasn’t what it used to be. “Show people how you can stock up for a long time without using a ton of space, and still be able to make a variety of meals.”

  “Ooh, that could work. Like how to be frugal about space and money without having to eat the same boring crap every day.”

  “Exactly.” I took another pull from the wine bottle, and as I handed it off to him, I added, “And shit, you’d probably get a million new subscribers just showing your animals reacting to the local wildlife. Through the windows, I mean. Because I think your idiot cat might actually try to fight a grizzly.”

  The laugh that burst out of Marcus lit up the night brighter than the northern lights ever could, and the wine had nothing to do with why my head was spinning so fast. Thank God for the low light, so I could surreptitiously stare at him while he gazed upward and grinned.

  “Bert hissed at an elk coming out of Yellowstone,” he said, still chuckling and still definitely buzzed. “Now I kind of want to know what he’d do if he saw a moose.”

  “I’d pay to see that.” I snorted. “Why am I imagining him sitting on a moose’s head and training it to be his warhorse or some shit?”

  “Probably because you’re drunk.”

  “Hmm, yeah. Maybe. But so are you, so don’t judge me.”

  “I’m not judging!” He took another drink and handed back the bottle. “And goddamn, now I totally want to see my cat commanding an army of attack moose.”

  I barked a laugh. “He’d do it, too.”

  “I know he would.” He shook his head and muttered, “Crazy cat.”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “Good point.”

  We both chuckled, and then we sat in companionable silence for a long time while we polished off what remained of the wine, and I put the empty bottle down beside my chair.

  “So, this whole road trip thing…” I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands in my lap. “You said it gets lonely. Do you, like, date? Hook up?”

  “Sometimes.” His chair creaked with what I thought was a shrug. “The biggest advantage to moving around all the time is that if I don’t find anyone who piques my interest, I’ll probably be in a whole other city before too much longer.” He paused. “The downside? Doesn’t really bode well for anything beyond hookups.”

  “Hmm, yeah. I can see that.”

  Silence held for a moment. Apparently the wine was kicking in, because he wasn’t shy at all about saying, “I hooked up with this one guy in… must’ve been Seattle. It’s…” He gestured dismissively. “The cities really do blur together after a while.”

  “’Specially when you’re drunk.”

  He made a noncommittal—but definitely inebriated—sound. “Details, details. Anyway, this guy comes back to the trailer with me. We do what we came to do, and then he starts talking about my next stop on the trip like he’s coming with me. Suggesting places we can go, routes we can take—and I’m all, ‘bruh, slow your roll!’” Marcus put up his hands. “It was just a hookup, and not a very good one.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “Oh God! He wasn’t even good!”

  “Ugh. No.” Marcus ticked off the points. “Using teeth when teeth were not welcome. Pretty much made me do all the work to get either of us off. Annnd some hygiene that left a lot to be desired.” He tsked. “The guy was a good kisser, but that just turned out to be false advertising.”

  I snorted. I had no idea if it was the alcohol or the line of conversation bringing out his catty side, but it was hilarious. “I can’t imagine why you didn’t want to move him into your trailer.”

  “I know, right? He was not happy when I said I was driving him home the next morning.”

  “Wow. Entitled, much?”

  “Seriously.” Marcus grumbled something I didn’t catch. “Most of the guys I’ve met along the way have been all right. Enough to keep me from getting too lonely, you know?”

  “Nice.”

  We exchanged glances in the low light, and I was thankful we weren’t super visible to each other. I didn’t need him to see the blush I could feel creeping into my cheeks. Especially since I couldn’t explain it. The alcohol, maybe? Because this kind of conversation wasn’t something that made me uncomfortable. My old housemates and I had been way too open with each other about things, and it didn’t bother me in the least.

  But I wasn’t traveling in small confines with them.

  And I hadn’t been painfully attracted to them.

  Oh. Right. That explained it.

  I shifted in my chair, the squeak giving me away. “I’m, uh… I’m not keeping you from meeting anyone, am I?”