A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry about the long wait but here’s the latest chapter. Actually, I ended up chopping the chapter into two because it just became too long.

Thank you again to those who continue to support this story and for falling in love with it along with Brandon and Charlotte.

A few people have asked me why I seem to make them go on a bit of a chase here when I can just make them fall in love and admit it.

To be perfectly honest, I think that in real life, two people who had an awful first meeting and a complicated business arrangement/marriage would be hard-pressed to fall in love with each other and live happily ever after in less than a month.

I strive to show a change in the dynamics of their relationship in each chapter and sometimes they can be very small but vital things—like a bit of honesty or compromise or just a happy, memorable date. I have to magnify these little things that will bridge them together so their feelings are plausible. I can’t write a story that goes, boy meets girl, they fall in love, ka-bam! they live happily ever after.

The reason I’m pointing this out is to appeal to you to be patient. Enjoy the ride.

Thank you!

Please vote and comment!

***

"The smokies are better because they're already cooked. You just have to roast them in the fire a little."

I chewed on my bottom lip in frustration as I returned the package of hotdogs to the cooler shelf. "Do you even know how to build a campfire? I'm sure they don't offer premium campfire-building services lit from a gold-tipped, ivory-handled lighter."

Brandon rolled his eyes and pushed our shopping cart further along the aisle until he could grab a pack of cheddar smokies. "I ordered a special flint set from an outdoor supply company. A flint is a traditional fire starter."

It was late Thursday afternoon and we drove down to a nearby grocery to get food for the camping trip that Brandon planned as our special weekend getaway.

Yes, camping.

It was a far cry from the fancy Paris trip he'd planned for our honeymoon but I was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning because I have never gone camping before.

Yes, I have never gone camping. Not once.

It wasn't really all that shocking. My mother walked out when I was six and my father pretty much stopped being any kind of real parent to me since then. We didn’t go camping or fishing or any of those things that happy families usually did.

I often didn't have extra money to pay for any of the fancy trips and summer camps the kids at school went to. I was only in that school because it was the only one to offer a working-student scholarship in the area.

What cash I did earn then, I certainly hadn’t wanted to spend on supplies so I could go off and live like a squatter out in the wilderness. I used to tell myself it was silly that people would spend so much money to live less comfortably and conveniently—only because it helped make me feel a little less left out.

When you'd lived most of your life with your nose pressed up against the store window for something you could never have, you learned to tell yourself that what was beyond the glass wasn't really all that special, and you weren't missing out on much.

So yeah, that was my long, short story for why I never once went camping.

Apparently, Brandon learned this little fun-fact about me because when I asked him where he got the idea from, he said that his father mentioned it to him.

The trouble with having Martin as a father-in-law was that I never thought he would be my father-in-law so I told him things I probably would've never said out loud to him if I’d known. But that was alright. The old man could get away with pretty much anything.

Including mysterious motives, blackmail and arranged marriages.

“Yes, I know it’s a traditional fire starter,” I said emphatically. “I learned that in history class when we talked about prehistoric men, you know, back in the days when the human race discovered fire by striking two rocks together. I just don’t know why you’re still using it several hundred thousand years later.”

“Because it’s cool and it’s rustic,” Brandon defended, pushing our cart past the cooler aisle. “It’s your first time to go camping. I want us to do this right.”

“Ah, yes—doing it right. I certainly hope that a cart full of food, bug sprays, insect ointments, first-aid supplies, bear spray, batteries, sunblock and survival guide books is doing it right because I don’t think we’ll have enough room in the car if there’s still more stuff to get on your do-it-right list,” I retorted, sweeping a dramatic hand over our overloaded cart. “If you know of a zombie apocalypse coming, and this is your way of getting me to your bunker so that I don’t panic and cause mayhem, it’s not very subtle.”

Brandon grinned and slipped an arm around my shoulders as we continued our way down the aisle. “I just like to be prepared, okay? Nothing—and I mean, nothing—will ruin this weekend getaway.”

Looks like your newly acquired seductions skills are paying off. Too bad you’re married to a saint. A really hot and sexy saint.

I glanced up at him with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have the past few days been torture for you?”

The pained expression on his face was hard to miss and I laughed out loud.

“If I can’t have you in the next twenty-four hours, a piece of my anatomy is going to die and fall off,” he groaned softly into my ear before his teeth lightly nipped the sensitive curve on it. “I should be awarded for my forbearance. You haven’t exactly been helping the situation.”

Of course not. I will not get in the way of my utter ravishment—the one I’m working so hard to achieve. Overeager, I know, but jeez, I’ve already gone and married the guy—then promptly fell in love with him. What other requirements are there?

I shrugged innocently despite the shiver that ran down my spine at the feel of his hot breath so close to my skin. "I disagree. I've been helping by reminding you of what's in store for you this weekend, thus keeping your eye on the prize. Delayed gratification is supposed to be torture. I'm just trying to give you the full experience."

"Hmm. I'll give you the full experience," he said with a playful glint in his eyes before leaning down to kiss me thoroughly.

I moved closer to him, my hands gripping the sides of his shirt and his own wrapping behind my neck.

I feel like there’s a rock show inside my heart. The song is sweet and earth-shattering.

We would've kept going, oblivious to the world, if someone didn't clear their throat so loudly I thought for a second that a lawn mower was running loose inside the grocery.

Brandon and I pulled away and saw an old couple stopped in front of us, their cart opposite ours, their matching expressions of disapproval directed at us.

"Back in the days, we did not maul our ladies in the grocery aisle," the man said, shaking his head at Brandon. "We visited them in their homes under the supervision of a chaperone and wooed them with flowers and gifts. Then we asked their fathers for their hands and married them properly in a church."

I suppressed the giggle that was thisclose to bursting out of me as I watched Brandon's eyes widen and his cheeks flush. I would've had the grace to blush myself if I didn't find the situation too hilarious.

A tiny noise that suspiciously sounded like the beginnings of a giggle came out of me and Brandon glanced at me with a raised brow.

I bit my lower lip and tried to keep a straight face on as he grabbed my left hand with his own and shoved them both in front of the older couple.

"Actually, we are married. Newly weds, in fact."

I flashed the couple a sunny smile. "Yes, just about two weeks. My husband is a very affectionate man, you know, so sometimes he can't help himself."

Brandon squeezed my hand as he gave the couple an equally bright grin of his own. "Yes, well. My wife is just so lovable. Pardon me for being overeager. You two still look amazingly in love. I'm sure you understand what it’s like."

I felt an odd tug at my heart at his mention of the word lovable in reference to me but I kept my focus on the older couple who glanced back and forth between us as if they were deliberating whether to believe us or not.

"Hmph," the old man grunted as he started to push their cart past us. "Still no reason why you can't take your wife home and seduce her properly."

"True, dear," the woman said, patting her husband's shoulder, as the two of them trudged past us.

We waited until they turned into an aisle before we both burst into soundless laughter.

"I say, based on that, you are falling short on your husbandly duties, dear," I told Brandon as I clutched my stomach between breathless giggles. "You've had me at home for about two weeks now but I've yet to be seduced properly."

“Oh, I know.” He flashed me a lopsided smile before scooping me up all of a sudden. I gasped out loud when he dumped me into the cart, just on top of the huge pack of paper towels, by the front where I just fit. “You should’ve never told me you were a virgin on our wedding night. Sometimes, I really wish you didn’t.”

“Brandon! Get me out of here!” I sputtered at him, twisting left and right with difficulty because my knees, which were draped on one side of the cart, were higher than my waist and there was barely any room for me to push myself out without toppling the cart over. “People are looking!”

“So?” He smirked at me as he started pushing the cart. “It’s a short trip to the till. Consider it my revenge for the suffering you put me through.”

I glowered at him, crossing my arms and leaning back as comfortably as I could in the cart. “I didn’t put you through it. You did it to yourself! I never asked you to be so chivalrous.”

I would rather you just said to hell with it and then proceeded to make love to me, virginity be damned.

“If you know the things that have been running through my head in the last few days, you wouldn’t call me that,” he said, smiling with mischief. “But that’s alright. I’m comforted by the fact that you’ll deserve every wicked thing I intend to do to you.”

My face warmed up several degrees but I fought the urge to break away from his gaze and cover it with my hands.

I thrust my chin up instead and dared him with a look. “You know, I’ll believe you when you actually deliver. Until then, you’re just a tease.”

Brandon’s eyes flashed with a dark, sexual humor as a corner of his mouth turned up. “Tempting challenge but I think you’re suffering just as much as I am so I’ll pass. Two can play this game, you know?”

Oh, I know. Talk about skirting around each other on the game board. If this were poker, all you’ll need to do is call my bluff.

I was crazy in love with a husband I married for money—a man I would’ve gladly married for my heart, whether he be a pauper or a prince.

“Sir! No adults in the cart please,” one of the merchandisers called out to us when he looked up from his stocking cart and saw us coming down past the pet food aisle.

Brandon just smiled and rolled the cart past him. “I’m buying the cart too, don’t worry.”

“If you say you’re buying this cart because it was our cart, I’ll stop you right here and now,” I told him with an arched brow although I felt a secret thrill inside. “You can’t buy or hang on to every single thing that has sentimental value to you about us. You’re going to be a certified hoarder before the year is up at the rate you’re going.”

Brandon just sighed and rolled his eyes although a smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “Married two weeks and you already know me too well.”

I winked at him. “I’m your wife, dear. That’s just how it goes.”

When we got to the self-checkout counters, Brandon helped me out of the cart before unloading some of our stuff.

“I think we forgot to grab some chocolate bars,” he said as he took out his phone to look at the checklist he’d created. “You told me about making s’mores and you said you needed Snickers.”

He glanced at me with a puzzled expression. “Aren’t s’mores just graham crackers, marshmallow and plain chocolate? Why don’t we just do it that way?”

“You could if you lack imagination,” I said smugly. “Can you imagine s’mores with gooey chocolate, caramel and peanuts oozing out of it? It’s like a campfire dessert orgasm waiting to happen.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes at me. “No talks of orgasms, please. Go get your Snickers bars. Hurry.”

I grinned at him before turning to stride back toward the candy aisle. I looked through the shelves until I found a pack of four. I grabbed two of those and paused by the other candy selections. I deliberated for about ten seconds before grabbing a bag of gummy worms and a small party pack of assorted bite-sized chocolate bars. Chocolate and candy felt like they should go with camping. Happy things often went together.

I was humming excitedly as I walked back to the checkout area but my smile disappeared when I saw one of the staff smiling up sweetly at Brandon as she punched in codes on the screen. She was a tall, perky blonde with pink and blue streaks in her hair and she was twirling a lock of it around her fingers as she beamed at my husband.

A sour and ugly surge of acid-like jealousy swirled in my stomach and I stalked toward them.

“Hey,” I greeted cheerfully as I stepped between the staff girl named Karla, according to her badge, and Brandon. “Did I miss the party?”

Brandon smiled at me, holding a pack of salami. “It wasn’t ringing up correctly. I’m pretty sure this isn’t turkey sausage.”

“Hmm, yes,” I said, my smile tight and thin. “It doesn’t look like it’s from one of our feathered friends but definitely some kind of dead meat—chopped up, ground up and pounded into a deli offering.”

Brandon’s brows rose at me for a moment before his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Karla was just helping us, honey.”

He put an arm around me and smiled at the now-wide-eyed girl. “Karla, this is my wife, Charlotte—an expert on dead meat. I always aim to avoid becoming one of her experiments.”

You couldn’t have been more obvious. All you’re missing is the heart on your sleeve and a placard with I LOVE YOU written on it in bold red letters. That’s no worse than being a jealous psycho because some girl is swooning over your husband. Even your grandmother would’ve swooned over him. They can’t help it.

Even in khaki shorts, a light blue shirt and preppy dark blue top-siders, Brandon looked swoon-worthy.

The girl looked seriously awkward as she gave me a half-hearted smile and moved away, back behind her counter where she oversaw the self-checkout section.

“You’re jealous,” Brandon said once the girl was out of earshot.

He dumped the salami into the bag and gave me a crooked smile as he reached for our next item. “It’s actually pretty cute.”

“Pfft.” I rolled my eyes and tossed him the chocolate and candies. “Jealousy implies I care, which I don’t.”

The moment the words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them

The light in Brandon’s smiling hazel eyes literally dimmed and his smile disappeared as his jaw tightened.

What the hell is wrong with you, Charlotte? You couldn’t say ‘I love you’ to defend yourself so you tell him you don’t care instead?

Sobering up, I caught his elbow as he turned away.

“Brand, I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely as I stepped in front of him and wrapped my arms around him. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s alright, Charlotte,” he answered quietly, moving away and turning his attention to the rest of our items still in the cart.

I stepped back and fidgeted as he rang the rest of the items through in an almost mechanical fashion.

I wanted to say something to make it better—to bring back the Brandon I had five minutes ago before I opened my big mouth and said the stupid words that caused him to shut me out.

It was a quiet walk back to the car.

I couldn’t take it.

“I’m sorry, okay?” I finally blurted out, stopping in the middle of the parking lot, staring at his retreating back, and gripping the grocery bag I had in each hand so tightly I temporarily lost feeling in my fingers. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

He slowed down his steps until he finally halted but he didn’t turn around to face me.

I didn’t care if anyone heard me.

Only one person mattered.

“I care, Brand,” I continued. “I care a lot. In fact, I care too damn much.”

Great.

I was pouring my heart in the middle of the parking lot while holding grocery bags and wearing denim cut-offs, a tank top and rubber flip-flops.

I felt like I was in one of those teenage TV dramas.

If you can't tell him the entire truth, at least give him parts of it. You owe him that at the very least.

"I didn't like seeing you with that girl," I admitted, my voice faltering slightly. "It was easier to deny why I felt that way than to admit the truth."

Tears stung my eyes and I tipped my head up to the side to blink them back.

Damn. You had a good thing going and you went and ruined it by wanting more.

"I know I say a lot of stupid things," I rambled on, lowering my head in defeat. "I won't blame you if you don't take my word for it when I tell you I'm sorry, and that I didn't mean to say what I did."

I sucked in a deep breath and chewed on my bottom lip. "But I really didn't mean it, Brand. I care about you—more than I should. More than what's smart."

My head swept up at the sound of rustling plastic and footsteps.

Brandon had already reached me and set his grocery bags down on the ground, his arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace.

I smiled just as tears filled my vision, lifting my own arms to wrap around his back, the spray cans inside the grocery bags I held banging together.

"I believe you, Charlotte," he murmured against my hair.

"I'm sorry," I said against his chest. "I didn't mean to hurt you with what I said, Brand."

"It's okay, baby." He stroked down my hair and kissed my right temple. "I'm sorry too."

I let him hold me for a while. A few cars honked at us but we simply ignored them.

When Brandon finally pulled back, he had a soft smile on his face and his eyes were tender.

"I understand how you feel," he said quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "I feel the same way. But you know what? For the first time in my life, I'm happy not to do the smart thing. I'm just happy to care about you—and to care a lot."

My heart swelled and all I could do was give him a trembling smile and nod.

His smile quirked to one side, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're important to me, Charlotte. If you still don't know that by now, then I'm not doing this right."