Stepping into the camper behind Jason, I devoted all of my attention to packing water and food into my backpack for our journey into the city. Despite several weeks together, Jason still seemed to lack a sense of privacy when it came to changing. Turning my back on him was the best way to keep my eyes to myself, silently giving Carrot a treat from the stash at the very top of the pantry. 

Content with my choice of supplies, I zipped the bag, opening the door as I said, “We’ll be outside when you’re ready.” It was easier to wait for him there, my palm idly resting on the holster of Jason’s gun that was strapped to my belt. 

Carrot sat beside me, tail wagging as I busied myself with tapping my fingers against the hard leather until the door opened again. “All set?” I asked, eagerness edging into my voice again. 

Jason’s deep voice was gruff as he responded. “Yup. All set.” 

I looked up at him, blinking. My mouth felt dry; my gaze locked on Jason as my pulse raced. 

I had never seen him so well-dressed, as if he were going to a formal business meeting. He wore a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button undone to reveal his dark chest hair—his chain glinting around his neck. The black leather straps of his harness cut over his broad chest, accentuating his thick muscles. His shirt was stuffed into fitted trousers, his black boots looking cleaner than usual, as if he’d polished them. His hands were covered in short leather gloves, sweeping his dark hair out of his light eyes. 

He adjusted the gun case and shotgun over his shoulder, closing the door with a snap before he activated the pulley system. Flashing me a smile he said, “Alright, sunshine. Let’s get going.” 

For a long moment I couldn’t speak, overwhelmed and flustered. I was certain this man had no idea how attractive he was—or was at least clueless about the effect it had on me. Jerking my gaze away, I nodded, swallowing as I hoped my voice sounded normal. “Now I feel underdressed,” I muttered, stepping away from Jason toward the mouth of the tunnel—as if I could distance myself from the fluttering in my chest. “I hope I don’t make a bad impression on your contact.” 

“You? Bad impression?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he murmured, “Not possible. And you look fine. I just put in a bit of effort when I do business. Trading weapons… It can get dicey fast, helps if you appear professional and looks like you know what you’re doing.” 

Despite his words, his eyes scanned me.

My acid washed jeans were soft and faded, cinched around my waist by the belt he had given me for the borrowed holster. My fingers curled over the frayed sleeves of the baggy sweater I had tucked into my jeans, self-conscious under Jason’s scrutiny. 

His gaze flicked up to mine as he mumbled, “You look good. Besides, I’ll be doing the talking.”

My steps faltered, stunned by the compliment. My gaze whipped ahead of me as I sternly reminded myself there was no deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll be sure to keep my mouth shut, then,” I said, forcing cheer into my voice. I only managed to stay silent for a few more steps before curiosity got the better of me. “Is this something you do often? How do you even… pay for this stuff?” 

“You’re always full of questions,” Jason said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. Though it had once been real annoyance, there was a tone of mockery as he said, “My name, my age, what I do for a living… You remind me of doing taxes sometimes, you know that?”

“Taxes?” I repeated, offended as I gave him a haughty look. “Well, at least I know what you actually think of me.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head as his tone grew more serious, stating, “I trade information. Valuable information. Worth more than any firearm this man can offer.”

I remembered how defensive he had been about his age when we met, and I smirked as I said slyly, “I’m not sure what kind of information you’d have, it must all be pretty outdated.” 

He stiffened, glaring at me with narrowed eyes, though I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh, sunshine? Guess I’ll just have to keep you in suspense then.” He raised a dark brow, smirking triumphantly as he said with a hollow threat, “Or maybe you’re not ready for your own guns after all?” 

“You wouldn’t.” I gave a dramatic gasp, widening my eyes to look pleading. “I’m sorry, I know you’re sensitive—I wasn’t trying to be mean. Don’t make us turn around now, I promise I’ll behave!” My begging tone was playful, Carrot looking between us with her tail moving in curious wags as if she could understand us. 

The banter warmed my chest, making me wonder how I had survived so long alone. 

I felt his large hand grab a fistful of my sweater, pulling me up against him as his other hand gruffly ruffled my hair. “You’ll behave, huh? You little shit.” He laughed, stopping to look down at me. His smile reached his eyes, faint lines at their corners as if happiness spread across his whole face. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

My heart was in my throat as I looked up at him, my sweater suddenly feeling stiflingly warm as heat crept across my face to tint my ears. An answer was at the tip of my tongue as my gaze dropped to his mouth, lips curved in that rare and charming smile. 

My mind was full of thoughts that I had tried to bury. 

Blinking, I forced myself to smile and cover the desire to silence his teasing. “How about I spoil you one day? We’ll need some supplies, but I know some tricks to pamper you.” I reached up to remove his hand from my head, my fingers running over the bottom of his palm where his glove rode up, feeling the slight roughness of his skin, “You clearly need it.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked, pulling back as he continued walking. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

I knew it was idle banter, but a part of me was thrilled by his words, grinning as I hurried to keep pace with him. It was hard not to dream that I had a chance of catching his interest when he spoke like that. “I suppose at least your vision is still fine,” I sniffed. 

As we left the tracks and walked further into the city, I felt my good mood beginning to drain, aware of the danger around us as I lowered my voice. “Are you done avoiding my question, now? What kind of information do you trade?” 

Jason seemed tenser, on alert as I watched his eyes dart in practically every direction, constantly keeping watch. I half expected him to refuse an answer, but he surprised me as he murmured, “I sell coordinates and codes to military stashes. They’re usually chalk full of elite weaponry and supplies—rations. It’s far more valuable than a single firearm—even a few standard models.” 

I stared at him, shocked into silence for a moment before I said, “That seems like priceless information. You could get the weapons on your own if you know where to find places like that… Why bother trading at all?” There was no mockery left in my tone, only earnest curiosity. 

“It’s dangerous,” he said, almost biting. “People camp out around that stuff, groups constantly trying to scout the area and break in themselves—or wait for someone to do it for them. Isn’t worth the risk in my book. I’d rather take reliable weapons and live than to try for something with more kick and wind up on the wrong end of the barrel.” 

“I see,” I murmured, feeling guilty for having pressed the questions on him. My gaze dropped to my feet for a moment, and I was more subdued when I muttered, “I guess I still have a lot to learn from you.”

When Jason spoke again it was softer, his voice filled with subtle fondness as he said, “It’s taken me years. The amount you’ve improved in only a few months is impressive. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.” His smile reached his eyes as it widened and he said, “I’ll make sure of it.”