“Shh … stop squealing like a damn pig. I’m not going to pull your pants down … yet.”

I wrap both of my hands around his wrist, tugging at his firm grip on the back of my shorts. He opens my door to the truck and tosses the bags in next to Swarley. After he shuts the door, he releases me. I jump into my seat and fasten the seat belt, hoping it aids in keeping my pants on me.

Resting his hand on the top of my door, he inspects me with that indiscernible look for a few moments as I start to mess with my hair then decide to just keep my hands idle on my lap to prevent him from making some stupid comment about lice.

“Can’t say I’ve ever chased anyone around a parking lot before.” He bites his lips together.

Screw him. I am not going to mirror that stupid grin he has on his mild-to-moderately handsome face. We are grownups. Playing chase is something ten-year-olds do. He’s reduced me to an adolescent again.

“Shut the door, short dick.” I grab for the handle, but he keeps a firm hold on the door. It’s not going to shut until he’s ready.

I huff a long breath, crossing my arms over my chest. Looking forward, I ignore the hole he’s boring into the side of my head. He knows I saw his big dick. I’m not going to acknowledge it.

Nope. Never.

The door shuts. He gets in, rolls down the windows, and guns it out of the parking lot, tossing a disapproving frown in the direction of my high heels.

“They were for the grocery store.”

“I’m sure the eighty-year-old woman at the checkout was very impressed with you.”

“Shut up. I dress for myself sometimes, you know? Is there something wrong with wanting to feel good about myself? Lord knows the rest of me is in dire need of some maintenance.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me.

I ignore his condescending look and try to put my window up as we pick up speed, but he’s locked it from his side.

“Put my window up.” I gather my hair and hold it back, but the wind keeps pulling at it. “Jake, put my window up. I can’t have my hair blowing everywhere!”

“What?” He holds his hand up to his ear.

“My hair!”

“Still can’t hear you.” He shrugs. “Tell me when we get back to the campsite.”

I scowl at him while Swarley pokes his nose up between the seat and the door to enjoy the wind as well. Traitor.

“My dad used to bring Sydney and me here for long weekends after our mom died. We rented a cabin that came with a fishing boat.”

Jake shoots me a glance, which means he can hear me. After a few seconds, he rolls up the windows. I inwardly grin.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner.