Samantha and Clarissa are staying at a lodge with their friend Jeff on a hiking trip. Clara joins them for a cozy afternoon, when things get steamy over a game of truth or dare.

Chapter 1: Introduction

The cabin was warm, but not *quite* warm enough. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the wood-paneled walls, but the chill from the snow outside still clung to the air. Samantha stretched her arms over her head, her burgundy sweater riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach before she tugged it back down. Her wool socks were thick and soft, pulled up to her calves, and her auburn hair was tousled from the wind—no makeup, just the natural flush of her cheeks from the cold.

She grinned at Jeff and Clarissa, who were sprawled on the opposite couch, their own layers of warmth doing little to hide the way the firelight danced over them.

Clarissa, ever the picture of quiet elegance, had her long dark hair draped over one shoulder, her high-necked blouse tucked neatly into her corduroy pants. A gray knitted cardigan hugged her frame, and her wool socks were neatly folded at the ankles. She held a book in her lap, though she wasn’t reading—just staring at the flames, lost in thought.

Jeff, meanwhile, looked like he’d been dragged through the woods and loved every second of it.

She grinned at Jeff and Clarissa, who were sprawled on the opposite couch, their own layers of warmth doing little to hide the way the firelight danced over them.

Jeff, meanwhile, looked like he’d been dragged through the woods and loved every second of it.

His shaggy blond hair was still damp from melting snow, his blue eyes bright with the kind of energy that came from a day spent hiking. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. He’d peeled off his outer layers, leaving him in a fitted long-sleeve thermal that clung to his arms and chest. Samantha had noticed. She always noticed.

The cabin smelled like pine and woodsmoke, the scent thick in the air as the fire popped and hissed. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, shaking the branches against the windows. It was the kind of sound that made you want to curl up with a drink and forget the world existed.

But Samantha wasn’t the kind of person who curled up.

She stretched her arms over her head again, this time deliberately letting her sweater ride up just a little higher. Jeff’s gaze flicked down—just for a second—before he caught himself and looked away. *Good*, she thought. *He’s paying attention.*

Clarissa, meanwhile, had gone very still. Her fingers tightened around the spine of her book, her brown eyes sharp with something Samantha couldn’t quite place. Curiosity? Nervousness? Or maybe just the way the firelight made the shadows play across her face.

“Okay,” Samantha said, bouncing slightly on the couch. “Truth or dare.”

Jeff groaned. “Oh no.

But Samantha wasn’t the kind of person who curled up.

“Okay,” Samantha said, bouncing slightly on the couch. “Truth or dare.”

Jeff groaned. “Oh no.

No, no, no.” Clarissa shook her head, her dark hair swaying gently as she set the book aside with deliberate care. “That is a terrible idea.”

Samantha grinned, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her burgundy sweater stretching just enough to hint at the curves beneath. “Why? Afraid I’ll make you do something embarrassing?”

“Because I *know* you,” Clarissa said dryly, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’ll dare me to streak through the snow or something.”

Jeff laughed, the sound warm and rich, and Samantha shot him a playful glare. “I would *never*.” She paused. “Okay, maybe.

But only if you *want* to,” Samantha said, her green eyes glinting with mischief. She leaned back against the couch cushions, crossing her legs and letting her sweater ride up just a fraction more. The firelight caught the curve of her calf where the wool socks ended, and Jeff’s gaze lingered for a heartbeat too long before he forced himself to look away.

Clarissa exhaled through her nose, a sound that was half-laugh, half-exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” Samantha shot back, grinning.

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the damp strands of his shaggy blond hair.

Clarissa exhaled through her nose, a sound that was half-laugh, half-exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” Samantha shot back, grinning.

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the damp strands of his shaggy blond hair.

"Alright, fine. But we need rules. No streaking, no public humiliation, and no—"

"Boring," Samantha interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"

Clarissa adjusted her cardigan, pulling it tighter around herself. "I think Jeff’s rules are reasonable. We’re adults, after all."

Samantha smirked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, so *adults* don’t play games? That’s disappointing."

Clarissa shot her a look, but there was no real heat in it. "You know what I mean."

Jeff chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, fine.

"Alright, fine. But we need rules. No streaking, no public humiliation, and no—"

"Boring," Samantha interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"

Clarissa adjusted her cardigan, pulling it tighter around herself. "I think Jeff’s rules are reasonable. We’re adults, after all."

Samantha smirked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, so *adults* don’t play games? That’s disappointing."

Clarissa shot her a look, but there was no real heat in it. "You know what I mean."

Jeff chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, fine.

We'll play by your rules," Samantha said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "But if we're going to play, we need to make it interesting. No lame questions like 'What's your favorite color?' or 'Who was your first crush?'"

Jeff leaned back against the couch, his muscular frame relaxing into the cushions. "So what, you want us to spill our deepest, darkest secrets?"

Samantha's grin widened. "Exactly. Or do something daring. Something that makes us feel alive."

Clarissa shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing the edge of the book still resting in her lap.

Jeff leaned back against the couch, his muscular frame relaxing into the cushions. "So what, you want us to spill our deepest, darkest secrets?"

Samantha's grin widened. "Exactly. Or do something daring. Something that makes us feel alive."

Clarissa shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing the edge of the book still resting in her lap.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that," she said quietly, her voice barely rising above the crackle of the fire.

Samantha leaned forward, her green eyes softening as she studied Clarissa's face. "Come on, Riss," she said, her voice warm and coaxing. "It's just a game. We're all friends here. No judgment, no pressure. If you don't want to answer or do something, you can just say so."

Clarissa hesitated, her brown eyes flickering between Samantha and Jeff. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the motion. "Alright," she finally agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that," she said quietly, her voice barely rising above the crackle of the fire.

"But only if we have some whiskey first. To get into the mood."

Jeff grinned and pushed himself up from the couch. "Now *that's* a rule I can get behind." He crossed to the small wooden cabinet in the corner, where a half-empty bottle of amber liquid sat beside three mismatched glasses. The firelight caught the golden swirl as he poured, the liquid glinting like liquid honey.

Clarissa watched the whiskey with something between apprehension and fascination, her fingers tightening around the edge of her book. Samantha, meanwhile, bounced slightly on the cushions, her burgundy sweater riding up again as she stretched her arms overhead. "Finally, someone with sense," she declared. "Though I *would* have been fine with just the game."

Jeff handed them each a glass, his fingers brushing against Clarissa's as he passed hers to her. She flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't pull away.

"But only if we have some whiskey first. To get into the mood."

Jeff handed them each a glass, his fingers brushing against Clarissa's as he passed hers to her. She flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't pull away.

The whiskey burned going down - sweet and sharp at once - and Clarissa coughed delicately into her fist. Samantha laughed, the sound bright and warm, and took a generous sip from her own glass before setting it down on the low wooden table with a decisive clink.

Just then, a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Three quick raps, followed by a pause, then two more. The sound made them all freeze mid-motion - Clarissa's glass halfway to her lips, Jeff's fingers still curled around the whiskey bottle, Samantha's grin faltering just slightly.

"Who the hell..." Jeff muttered, already moving toward the door.

Clara stood on the threshold, her dark braid dusted with snowflakes that melted almost immediately against the wool of her dress. She held a chipped ceramic mug in both hands, steam curling from its surface.

"Who the hell..." Jeff muttered, already moving toward the door.

Clara’s hands trembled slightly with the mug, her knuckles whitening where her fingers gripped the handle. The flannel dress clung to her frame, the high neckline dusted with melting snowflakes that had settled on the dark fabric.

Jeff blinked, caught between surprise and something warmer. "Clara? You came."

Samantha was already on her feet, crossing the room in three quick strides. "We said you were welcome anytime!" She took the mug from Clara’s hands—gently, as if sensing the tremor—and set it on the side table. "Come in, come in. It’s freezing out there."

Clarissa watched from the couch, her fingers still curled around her whiskey glass. The firelight caught the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her dark eyes flicked between Clara and Jeff. There was something guarded in her expression, something Samantha couldn’t quite place.

Jeff blinked, caught between surprise and something warmer. "Clara? You came."

Then Clara broke into a smile, her cheeks flushing pink as she brushed snowflakes from her braid. "Thought I'd have a look what my hiking mates are up to," she said, her voice soft but carrying the faintest tremor.

Jeff's shoulders relaxed as he stepped back to let her in, the cabin door creaking softly on its hinges. "You’re just in time," he said, his voice warm with genuine welcome. "We were about to play a game."

Clarissa set her whiskey glass down with deliberate care, her fingers lingering on the rim for just a moment too long. "Truth or dare," she clarified, her tone neutral but her dark eyes sharp with something unreadable.

Then Clara rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrows. "Well in that case you better share some of that," she said, pointing at the whiskey bottle with a small smirk.

Samantha let out a delighted laugh, already reaching for another glass. "Oh, I *like* you," she declared, pouring a generous measure before handing it to Clara. The amber liquid caught the firelight as it swirled in the glass, casting warm reflections across Clara's flushed cheeks.

Clarissa watched the exchange with quiet amusement, her fingers tracing the rim of her own glass. "You realize this is how bad decisions are made, right?" she said, though there was no real censure in her voice.

Jeff chuckled as he settled back onto the couch, his muscular frame making the cushions dip slightly. "Since when do you worry about bad decisions?" he teased, nudging Samantha's foot with his own.

Then Clara rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrows. "Well in that case you better share some of that," she said, pointing at the whiskey bottle with a small smirk.

Jeff chuckled as he settled back onto the couch, his muscular frame making the cushions dip slightly. "Since when do you worry about bad decisions?" he teased, nudging Samantha's foot with his own.

The firelight flickered across the cabin walls, casting long shadows that danced with the movement of the flames. Clara took a deep sip of whiskey, the liquid burning a path down her throat as she exhaled sharply through her nose. The warmth spread through her chest, loosening the tightness in her shoulders. She glanced around the cozy cabin, her dark eyes lingering on the way the firelight played across Jeff's face—how the golden glow softened the sharp angles of his jaw, how it made his blue eyes seem even brighter.

Samantha grinned, watching Clara with unabashed curiosity. "So," she said, stretching the word out as she leaned forward, "where do we start? Truth or dare?"

Clarissa shifted slightly on the couch, her fingers tightening around her own glass. "I still think this is a terrible idea," she muttered, though there was no real conviction behind it.

Samantha grinned, watching Clara with unabashed curiosity. "So," she said, stretching the word out as she leaned forward, "where do we start? Truth or dare?"

Clarissa shifted slightly on the couch, her fingers tightening around her own glass. "I still think this is a terrible idea," she muttered, though there was no real conviction behind it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the whiskey glass halfway to her lips, the amber liquid trembling in the glass like a tiny, trapped sun. The scent of oak and caramel curled into the air between them, mingling with the pine smoke from the fire.

Clara's dark eyes flicked between the three of them, her breath catching in her throat. The cabin suddenly felt much smaller, the air charged with something electric that had nothing to do with the fire. She could feel the heat of Jeff's gaze on her profile, could see the way Samantha's green eyes sparkled with mischief from across the room. Clarissa, ever the observer, watched her with quiet intensity, her own glass forgotten in her lap.

"Oh, come on," Samantha said, nudging Clara's foot with her own.

"You can't just show up and not play. That's against the rules."

Clara hesitated, her fingers tightening around the chipped ceramic mug. She could feel the weight of their gazes—the warmth of Samantha's playful challenge, the quiet intensity of Clarissa's observation, the way Jeff's blue eyes seemed to darken with something unspoken. The whiskey burned in her throat, but it wasn't enough to dull the sudden rush of nerves. She took another sip anyway, the liquid courage pooling in her stomach.

The fire cracked sharply, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Clara exhaled through her nose, watching the way the flames danced in Samantha's green eyes. "Fine," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I get to go first."

Samantha clapped her hands together, grinning.

"You can't just show up and not play. That's against the rules."

Samantha clapped her hands together, grinning.

"Alright, Clara, you’re up first.

Clara’s fingers tightened around her mug of whiskey, the ceramic warm against her palms. She swallowed hard, her dark eyes flicking between the three of them before settling on Samantha. "Truth," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The firelight caught the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her dark eyes darted nervously. Samantha leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with mischief as she studied Clara’s face. "Okay," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Let’s start with something easy. What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?"

Clara hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. The cabin felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with anticipation. She could feel Jeff’s gaze on her, the way his blue eyes seemed to darken with curiosity. Clarissa watched her quietly, her own glass forgotten in her lap.

"Alright, Clara, you’re up first.

The firelight caught the way Clara’s cheeks flushed a deep, rosy pink, the color spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the high collar of her flannel dress.

Clara’s fingers tightened around her mug, her knuckles whitening where they pressed against the ceramic. She could feel their eyes on her—the warmth of Samantha’s playful curiosity, the quiet intensity of Clarissa’s observation, the way Jeff’s gaze seemed to darken with something unspoken. The whiskey burned in her throat, but it wasn’t enough to dull the sudden rush of heat that flooded her body.

“Most daring thing?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, her chest rising beneath the flannel fabric. “Well…” She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “There was this one time, during a storm, when I—”

A sharp knock at the door cut her off.

The firelight caught the way Clara’s cheeks flushed a deep, rosy pink, the color spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the high collar of her flannel dress.

Her voice caught as the memory surfaced, vivid and unexpected. The cabin suddenly felt warmer, the firelight casting long shadows that danced across the walls as Clara’s dark eyes flickered with something between embarrassment and exhilaration.

“When I snuck out of my parents’ house at midnight,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “The rain was coming down so hard it sounded like the sky was splitting open, and the wind was howling through the trees like it was alive.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising beneath the flannel fabric. “I had this old bicycle—rusted and creaky, but it still worked—and I rode it all the way to the lake. Just to stand there in the storm, feeling the rain soak through my clothes, feeling like I was the only person in the world.”

Samantha leaned forward, her green eyes wide with fascination. “You rode a bike in a storm? Alone?

Samantha’s eyebrows shot up, her green eyes glinting with wicked delight. "Oh, that’s *nothing*," she declared, swirling her whiskey glass with deliberate slowness before setting it down with a sharp *clink*. "My turn. And I’m going with *dare*."

The firelight caught the mischievous curve of her lips as she leaned forward, her burgundy sweater riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. The cabin air felt suddenly charged, thick with the scent of pine and whiskey and something electric—something that made Clara’s breath catch and Clarissa’s fingers tighten around her glass.

"Alright, Sam," Jeff said, his voice low with warning—or maybe anticipation. "What’s the dare?"

Samantha’s grin turned predatory.

"But I want Jeff to give it to me—make it good."

Jeff exhaled sharply through his nose, his blue eyes flickering between amusement and something darker. "Alright, Sam," he said, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "I dare you to do a handstand. Right here, right now."

The cabin fell silent except for the crackling fire. Clara’s fingers tightened around her mug, her dark eyes darting between them. Clarissa’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to protest but couldn’t find the words. The air felt suddenly charged, the whiskey and pine smoke mingling with something electric—something that made Samantha’s pulse quicken.

Samantha didn’t hesitate. She set her glass down with deliberate care, her green eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh, you think that’s hard?" she said, already pushing herself up from the couch.

"But I want Jeff to give it to me—make it good."

Samantha didn’t hesitate. She set her glass down with deliberate care, her green eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh, you think that’s hard?" she said, already pushing herself up from the couch.

"Watch and learn, Emerson."

Samantha kicked her legs up in one fluid motion, her burgundy sweater riding up to reveal a strip of toned stomach as she balanced perfectly on her hands. The firelight flickered across her inverted form, casting long shadows that made the cabin walls seem to pulse with energy. A few strands of her auburn hair escaped their tousled disarray, swaying gently as she held the position with effortless grace.

Clara watched with wide eyes, her fingers tightening around her whiskey glass. The sight of Samantha upside-down sent an unexpected thrill through her—something about the way the flannel dress rode up slightly, revealing the curve of her calf, made Clara's breath catch in her throat. She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing as she realized she was staring.

"Alright, that's enough showing off," Jeff said, though his voice lacked real censure.

"Watch and learn, Emerson."

"Alright, that's enough showing off," Jeff said, though his voice lacked real censure.

He watched as Samantha lowered herself back to the floor with practiced ease, her cheeks flushed from the effort. The firelight caught the way her auburn hair tumbled forward, framing her grin as she shook out her arms with a satisfied sigh.

"Now *that's* how you take a dare," Samantha declared, her voice still breathless from the handstand. "Clarissa, you're up next. Don't tell me you're chickening out already?"

Clarissa's fingers tightened around her whiskey glass, the amber liquid trembling slightly in the firelight. She had been watching Samantha's performance with quiet fascination, the way the muscles in her arms had flexed as she held the handstand, how the sweater had ridden up just enough to reveal the smooth skin of her stomach. Now all eyes were on her, and the cabin suddenly felt much smaller. "Dare," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The word hung in the air between them, charged with something unspoken.

Samantha's grin turned predatory. "Perfect." She leaned forward, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she studied Clarissa's face.

"I dare you to finish your whiskey," Samantha said, her voice low and teasing. "All in one go. No sipping, no hesitation. Just... done."

Clarissa hesitated for only a second before lifting the glass to her lips, the amber liquid catching the firelight as she tilted it back. The whiskey burned a path down her throat, warm and sharp, and she exhaled sharply through her nose as she set the empty glass down with deliberate care. The firelight caught the way her throat moved, the way her dark eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Jeff watched her with quiet intensity, his blue eyes darkening as he took in the way her fingers trembled slightly where they rested on her thigh. The cabin air felt suddenly charged, the scent of pine and whiskey mingling with something electric—something that made Clara’s breath catch in her throat.

Samantha grinned, leaning back against the couch cushions with a satisfied sigh.

"That’s my girl," she said, her voice warm with approval as Clarissa set the empty glass down with a sharp *clink*. The firelight caught the faint tremor in Clarissa’s fingers, the way her dark eyes flickered with something between defiance and exhilaration.

Clarissa exhaled sharply through her nose, the whiskey burning a path down her throat as she met Samantha’s gaze with quiet intensity. "Your turn," she said, her voice low and steady, though the flush in her cheeks betrayed the effect of the liquor. "But I’m picking the dare this time."

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. "Oh, this should be good," he muttered, his voice low with anticipation. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, making his shaggy blond hair look almost golden.

Clara shifted in her seat, her wool socks brushing against the rough wooden floor. She had been watching the exchange with quiet fascination, her dark eyes flickering between Samantha’s playful confidence and Clarissa’s guarded intensity. When the game turned to her, she hesitated only a moment before saying, "Truth."

The word hung in the air, fragile as a snowflake. Samantha’s grin softened into something more curious, her green eyes studying Clara’s face. "Alright," she said, swirling her whiskey glass idly.

"Let's make this interesting. What was your most *steamy* hiking romance?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, the firelight flickering across Clara's flushed cheeks as she suddenly became the center of attention. Samantha's green eyes gleamed with mischief, while Clarissa's quiet gaze sharpened with curiosity. Jeff, who had been lounging back against the couch, sat up straighter, his blue eyes darkening with interest.

Clara's fingers tightened around her mug, the ceramic warm against her palms. She could feel the weight of their gazes—the warmth of Samantha's playful curiosity, the quiet intensity of Clarissa's observation, the way Jeff's gaze seemed to darken with something unspoken. The whiskey burned in her throat, but it wasn't enough to dull the sudden rush of heat that flooded her body.

"Well..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Let's make this interesting. What was your most *steamy* hiking romance?"

"Well..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

The firelight caught the way her throat moved as she swallowed hard, her dark eyes flickering between the three of them. "It wasn't a romance, exactly. More like a... moment."

Clara’s fingers tightened around her mug, the ceramic warm against her palms. She could feel the weight of their gazes—the warmth of Samantha’s playful curiosity, the quiet intensity of Clarissa’s observation, the way Jeff’s gaze seemed to darken with something unspoken.

"It was during my first solo hike," she continued, her voice gaining a little strength as she focused on the memory. "I was camping near a lake, and it was one of those perfect summer nights—warm, but with just enough breeze to make the air feel alive. I had set up my tent near the water, and I was sitting by the shore, just...

The firelight caught the way her throat moved as she swallowed hard, her dark eyes flickering between the three of them. "It wasn't a romance, exactly. More like a... moment."

listening to the water lap against the shore," Clara continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she stared into the fire. The flames flickered across her face, casting shadows that made her dark eyes seem even deeper. "And then I heard footsteps. Crunching through the underbrush, slow and deliberate."

Samantha leaned forward, her green eyes bright with curiosity. "Who was it?" she asked, her voice low and teasing. "I didn't know at first," she admitted. "I turned around and there was this guy—tall, with dark hair and a backpack slung over one shoulder. He was just standing there, watching me. And I... I didn't feel scared. curious."

Clarissa's fingers tightened around her empty whiskey glass, her brown eyes fixed on Clara. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He just... stood there for a moment, like he was deciding whether to say something. Then he walked over and sat down beside me on the rocks. His name was Elias. He was a photographer, traveling through the mountains to capture the light at different times of day."

Clara’s fingers traced the rim of her mug, her dark eyes distant as she remembered. "He told me he’d been watching the sunset from the ridge above, and when he saw my tent down by the lake, he thought he’d come say hello. We talked for hours—about the stars, about the way the water sounded different at night, about how strange it was to meet someone so far from anywhere."

Samantha watched her with rapt attention, her green eyes gleaming in the firelight. "And then?" she prompted, leaning forward.

Clara hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "And then...

Samantha watched her with rapt attention, her green eyes gleaming in the firelight. "And then?" she prompted, leaning forward.

Clara hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "And then...

and then he kissed me," Clara whispered, her fingers tightening around the chipped mug as the memory flooded back. The firelight caught the deep crimson spreading across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of her flannel dress. Her dark eyes glistened with something between embarrassment and exhilaration as she stared into the flames, her breath coming just a little faster.

The cabin fell completely silent except for the crackling fire. Samantha's playful smirk faded into something more intense as she watched Clara's reaction, her green eyes darkening with curiosity. Clarissa's fingers tightened around her empty glass, her brown eyes fixed on Clara with quiet fascination. Jeff leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes locked on Clara's flushed face, his expression unreadable.

Clara swallowed hard, her throat moving against the high neckline of her dress. "It wasn't like... like anything I'd experienced before," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It was soft at first, just a brush of his lips against mine, like he was asking permission. But then the wind picked up off the lake, and the air smelled like pine and rain, and suddenly it was like we were the only two people in the world."

The fire crackled loudly in the silence that followed, sending up a shower of sparks that danced against the cabin's dark ceiling. Samantha's fingers tightened around her whiskey glass, her green eyes never leaving Clara's flushed face. Clarissa sat perfectly still, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight as she studied Clara with an intensity that made the younger woman's breath catch.

Jeff cleared his throat, shifting forward on the couch. His blue eyes held a new intensity as he looked at Clara, but when he spoke, his voice was carefully measured. "My turn," he said, his gaze shifting to Samantha.

"Truth or dare?"

Samantha grinned, swirling her whiskey. "Dare, obviously."

Jeff smirked. "I dare you to ask me when I last shaved."

Clara choked on her drink, covering her mouth with her hand as laughter bubbled up. The firelight caught the way Samantha's green eyes narrowed playfully, her grin turning wicked.

"Oh, *that's* what this is about," she said, leaning forward. "Jeff, when *exactly* did you last shave? And don't lie—I can see the stubble from here."

Jeff rubbed his jaw defensively, his blue eyes flickering with amusement. "Morning," he lied, though the rough shadow along his jaw betrayed him.

Clarissa's lips twitched, her fingers tightening around her empty glass. "That's a terrible lie," she said dryly.

Jeff rubbed his jaw defensively, his blue eyes flickering with amusement. "Morning," he lied, though the rough shadow along his jaw betrayed him.