Lost Without You by Heather Thurmeier

looked like garlic cheese bread and a tossed salad sat in a bowl to the side. He served her a plate, then made another for himself.
    She took a bite. “Oh my God. You made this? Out here? From scratch?”
    â€œI did. It’s not my finest meal, but it was the best I could do with the limited resources available. Most of my first choice ingredients wouldn’t keep in these conditions.”
    She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is amazing. I can’t even make a sandwich and here you are making all of this on a camping stove. You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble just for me.”
    â€œYou were worth every second I spent in the sweltering heat of the kitchen tent this afternoon.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges slightly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. So tell me what your specialty is. Everyone has something they can cook.”
    She shook her head. “Not me.”
    â€œOne dish. I know you don’t eat in restaurants every night. And there’s only so much you can order in. So what’s your go to meal of choice?”
    â€œYou think I’m kidding, but I really can’t cook. Nights when I stay in and don’t want to order, I usually eat cereal or yogurt or some other easy food. I don’t cook. But I do love to bake.”
    â€œReally? You must not eat the things you bake.” His eyes drifted down her body. Heat radiated along her skin in his wake.
    â€œI do eat it actually. Most people think I must be anorexic or something, but trust me, I have a very healthy appetite. I also have a high metabolism and I try to workout when I can.” She shrugged. “It seems to work for me.”
    â€œI agree.”
    The silence around them was comfortable as they ate. For once in her life, she was on a date —
Just dinner, remember! —
and wasn’t completely nervous about doing the right thing or saying the wrong thing. It was refreshing.
    â€œSo how do you manage to keep looking so incredibly put together all the time when you’re out on these crazy locations filming and eating whatever your cooks make for you that day?” Zoe asked. She knew other people, tabloids mostly, had made fun of Chip and his very “metrosexual” appearance. But she didn’t mind it at all. She liked a guy who took care of himself as much as she did.
    Not that she was vain, regardless of what others might call her. She believed in looking your best to feel your best. If you go out into the world, why not do that with your best foot forward?
    Chip grinned. “I like to work out too. Maybe we should work out together sometime.”
    With Chip in the woods. Hot and sweaty. Muscles bulging from the workout. Yes, please.
    â€œYou even work out here? What do you do, bench press a tree?” She laughed at the thought of it.
    â€œMostly I jog around camp. I’m surprised you haven’t heard me running past your tent each morning. I also do pushups and crunches. But I’m not opposed to bench-pressing something, although fallen logs are kind of messy. Perhaps you’d like to fill the position for me?”
    I can think of a few positions I’d like to fill.
    No. Stop.
    â€œI’m not sure I want to be bench-pressed.”
    He chuckled. “Okay so maybe no bench-pressing. But you are welcome to come for a jog with me any morning you like.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind. Though I do like my sleep more than I like being out in the chilly morning air getting sweaty.” She took her last bite of pasta then wiped her mouth with her napkin and leaned back against his cot. She rubbed her stomach. “I’m so full. Remind me to have you over for dinner at my place. You can show me how to use my stove for more than baking brownies.”
    â€œAbsolutely, but you have to promise me one thing.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
    â€œI’ll