The trap was set. The wine was poured. The fire crackled in a perfectly curated rustic hearth that smelled suspiciously like lavender-scented logs. The scouts had clearly gone overboard.

Celeste eyed the heart-shaped cushions on the couch like they were cursed artifacts.

“This feels less like a rogue trap and more like a trap for our dignity.”

Hunter sauntered out of the tiny bathroom wearing a towel, freshly showered, with water glistening on his shoulders. “Speak for yourself. I ...