Everyone knew Charlie was heading south for an extended camping trip. Only Beck asked to join him. Quiet, private, independent Beck. The last few months were hard on her, even before that day in the woods. Heading south might help her forget. And he wouldn't mind having her along. She wouldn't chatter or giggle or drive him nuts. And she would sleep in her tent, outside the camper. Beck had to get away. Away from relentless cold and snow and ice. Away from worry and guilt. Away from the memories of violence. Away from foolish grieving for a lopsided grouse. She needed to walk on sandy beaches, feel hot sun on her face, see birds she'd only read about. She could fly home early, if she felt she was ruining his trip. They both hoped for comfortable friendship. Hot desire was a gift.