The patrol had barely begun, and Rhett was already driving you insane.

You were supposed to be focused—watching the tree lines, scanning for movement. But Rhett? He was riding beside you with that cocky half-smile, eyes lingering on you way longer than necessary.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing over.

He nodded, real casual. “Yeah. Just thinking about how good you look in that coat.”

You gave him a look. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “What? I like when you layer up. Makes me want to peel you like an orange.”

You nearly choked on your breath. “Rhett.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, grinning now, “the apocalypse is cold. I’m tryin’ to warm us both up.”

You groaned. “You’re impossible.”

He nudged his horse closer, bumping yours. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You tried to focus again, but then he broke off the trail like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Where are you going?”

“Shortcut,” he said with a shrug, not even bothering to lie well.

“That’s not a shortcut.”

He grinned at you over his shoulder. “Then maybe it’s a ‘get distracted and make out for ten minutes’ kinda detour.”

You hesitated—just for a second.

He held his hand out to you from the ground, his voice smooth as hell. “Come on. No infected. No noise. Just me and you.”