The turn off came suddenly. I spun the wheel, catching the back tire in a ditch before we popped back out again and bumped onto the dirt road. In a few hundred meters, I pulled up and parked in the shadow of the giant gray boulder that glinted in the moonlight.

"I read about this place in a guide online," I told her, handing her the keys to the van for safekeeping. "Apparently the devil used to wander around this valley, until somebody killed him by praying or something." I walked up and patted the enormous boulder. "This is his tombstone. Come here."

She sat down next to me and followed my lead as I leaned back, lying down on the cool ground and looking up at the heavens swirling above us.

The moon was bright above us, full and round, white light illuminating her face, making it shine up at me, her eyes gleaming. "They killed the devil," she said in wonder. Then her tongue poked the corner of her cheek. "Nah," she said. "He's still here, and he plays drums in a rock band."

But her voice was gentle, her tone teasing, not harsh. She looked up above us to the sliver of sky above the clearing, folding her hands on her stomach. "It's beautiful," she whispered reverently. "I've never seen so many stars."

"And this is with a full moon too," I said. "We should come back here when there's no moon, it'll be bloody amazing."

She turned to look at me. "You want to come look at the stars with me again in a few weeks?"

I inclined my head in a shrug. "I mean, I'd come with Ewan, but he doesn't smell nearly as good."

She laughed and rolled over to smack my chest. "I bet he's jealous you're with me tonight."

"Do me a favor love? Stop talking about Ewan Boyd when I'm kissing you."

"You're not...oh." Her words died off in a little moan as I shut her up the only way I knew how. The only way that seemed to work. And luckily it was the funnest way too.

Way better that pissing her off, as a matter of fact. I kissed her slowly, searching her mouth, telling her things I could only express in a kiss.

"Jules."

Fuck, I loved the way she said my name. Always with that little sigh in the middle, like she was giving in to saying it.

"Yeah, love." I kissed her shoulder.

She turned to me with an exasperated smile. "I'm cold."

"I can help you with that."

I rolled over on top of her and she laughed. "No, it's the ground," she protested, batting me in the chest. "It's freaking freezing. I wish we had a blanket or something."

I sat up and thought for a second. "Here," I said, standing up. "Follow me, I have an idea."

She looked skeptical as I helped her to her feet, and held her up as she stomped and jumped to warm up again. "The van," I told her, reaching out to take her hand.

When my fingers closed around hers she looked down as if startled that we were connected that way. "It's called hand-holding," I intoned in a dry, professorial voice. "It's long been seen as a means of expressing affection."

"And is being a pompous ass how you express affection?" she retorted.

"Ah, I'm glad you're finally getting it." I squeezed her hand as I led her back to the van. "You have the keys still? You didn't drop them on the ground, right?'

"Of course I didn't. Who do you think you're dealing with here?" she said, holding them out. But when I reached for them, she clutched the ring a little tighter. "I'm not going to drive off and leave you here, love."

"So all the times you've threatened to do that in the past were just..."

"A means of expressing affection," I deadpanned, because what else could I say?

The moonlight caught the gleam in her eye as she laughed a different kind of laugh. One that sparkled and bubbled like champagne. A laugh of pure delight.

Because I'd told her I liked her.

I should have fucking told her that from the very beginning.

"So what's your idea?" she prompted me and I realized I'd just been looking at her in wonder.

"Give me the keys."

She dropped them in my hand. I turned and pretended to sprint a few yards, then jogged back laughing as she raised both middle fingers. "Here," I said, unlocking the trunk of the van. "Let's put the seats down and lie in here."

As I folded the first seat into its hold, her mouth fell open. "These seats go down?" she marveled, watching me as raptly as if I were a magician.

"It's a cargo van, love. It's for transporting cargo." I slammed the last seat down into its stowage and brushed my palms off. "And not just the human kind you like to ferry around."

She wrinkled her nose at me. It was fucking adorable. I hopped up and sat down on the now level floor of the van, letting my legs dangle over the bumper and patted the space next to me. "Sit that pretty little arse down right here."

She hugged her arms across her chest. "And do what?"

"Just fucking sit, August. Sit here and be with me a second."

I saw her tongue flick nervously across her front teeth. With a heavy sigh, she plopped herself down, making the van bounce and rock. "There," she said.

"Thank you. That must have been hard for you," I said with mock heavy-seriousness.

"I'll get over it eventually," she shot back.

I laughed and slid my hand behind her. "I feel like a teenager at the movies," I complained. "Fuck it." I slung my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

She resisted only slightly before relaxing against my side. I turned my head, breathing in that amazing, complex scent of hers. "What do you smell like?" I asked.

She turned and looked up at me. "I don't know. What do I smell like?"

I buried my face in her soft curls and inhaled deeply, making her giggle. "I have no idea." I took another deep breath. "I detect hints of incense, and an overlying sweetness like honeysuckle."

Her laughter echoed off the Devil's Tombstone. "What are you, a hair sommelier?"

"Only when it comes to you, love."

"It's a shampoo," she explained, snuggling even closer. "It costs a fucking arm and a leg but it's the only thing that works with my curls."

"It's doing a great job then." I sniffed again. "And it smells fucking amazing too. It's been driving me nuts for months."

"Months?" she asked quietly.

"Aye, love," I confessed. "Since the day I met you."

She fell quiet and I held my breath, afraid that I'd revealed too much. That I'd scare her off.

Then she quietly reached over and grabbed my other hand, bringing it around so that she was nestled in both of my arms. "The day we met?" she repeated, and there was a softness in her voice I'd never heard before. I wondered how many had.

"Aye."

She twisted up and looked at me. "It's been driving you nuts that long and you only asked me now?"

"You really think a month ago you would have reacted well to the idea of me smelling your hair?" I chuckled. "Love, I'm an asshole, but I'm not a stupid one."

"I thought you hated me."

"I knew you hated me." I looked down. "Because you told me as much."

"I don't hate you. I was scared of you. Scared of...what I felt."

I tilted her chin up and kissed her. Slow, the kind of kiss that up to now we'd been denying ourselves. Soft, the kind of exchange - a give and take - neither one of us was used to, but that I was ready to start trying out.

As long as it was with her.

"Don't think I don't like sitting here with you..." she ventured when at last we broke the kiss.

"But you have to go back and work and make a million phone calls, and then go on a date with Eric," I teased. "Am I right? Is that what you were about to say?"

"No, jackass." She stabbed her finger upward. "I was going to say we should lie down again. I can't see the stars."