Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
I felt like one of those lame kids in school who picked on their crush just so they could see the emotion, except it was a selfish thing because mine was lacking, and she still didn’t know why I’d agreed to the trip. Why I thought it was a good idea for a grown-ass man to go on a let’s-make-peace camping trip with the girl next door like he couldn’t say no to his parents. Especially when he had his own money, a job fixing motorcycles and classic cars, a life, etcetera. The problem was, my job was only there so I stayed busy. We were Wellingtons. We worked for fun, not because we had to.
I swallowed the lump in my throat when she thrust the shovel into the air. “I did it.”
“I dig it,” I joked lamely.
She spiked the shovel into the ground by the tent and sat in one of the chairs by the fire. “This is actually nice.”
She’d think differently when she had to spend the night in the tent with me. God, I prayed she didn’t snore. “You don’t happen to have a cold, right?”
She frowned, her brown eyebrows furrowing in the cutest way. “No, why? I mean, I don’t think so. I’m feeling good.”
“Just checking. It’s a scientific fact that bears are attracted to loud noises, and I don’t want to get mauled over your mouth-breathing.” I grinned. “Hungry?”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t tell if I like you or want to punch you in the face, but yes, thanks for cooking while I dug us a hole. Wait, we aren’t sharing the hole, right? I did make two. You’re on the right, and I’m the left. I’ll dig more in the morning. And why in the hell am I talking about bathrooms in nature while staring at a hotdog?”
I shrugged. “Just one of life’s many mysteries.”
I handed her one of the paper plates and used the tongs to grab a hotdog for her, placing it on the bun.
She got up and put on an ungodly amount of relish and mustard.
I stared.
Stared harder.
She was going to eat it like that?
“No ketchup?” I pointed at her with the tongs.
She had the hotdog halfway to her mouth and then frowned. “Dude, all you need is mustard and relish. Trust me on this. Great-Grandma passed down the secret.”
“I doubt you and her.” I was still pointing the tongs.
She jumped up with her plate and kneeled in front of me, holding her hotdog up to my lips. “Then take a bite, big guy.”
Shit.
Just. Shit.
I had to sleep with her in the same area, and she was holding a hotdog up to my mouth after telling me how good she blew on things.
Should I just walk into the cold ocean now and breathe in saltwater?
“Um…” Damn it. The dirt was still on her cheek.
Look away.
Puppies. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Aliens. Think of anything but her mouth. Anything.
My lips parted as she shoved the hotdog in. I had to admit, I’d rather eat her, but instead, I was getting schooled in how to doctor up my food.
Frowning, I kept chewing and nodded. “That’s good.”
She patted me on the head.
She rarely touched me.
I froze.
She froze.
I stopped chewing.
Suddenly, she stood and went back to her chair. “See, I can be right.”
“You can.” I saluted her. “I bow down to your amazing hotdog recipe. I tragically lack the skill.”
“But you did cook.” She pointed her hotdog at me. “And they’re juicy, really good, nice.”
I coughed out a thanks and made my own food. By the time we were done eating, it was time to sleep, and I was forced to put everything away with her in an effort to avoid the smallest tent I’d ever packed in my entire life.
I stared down at it. There was nothing left to do. I stared harder.
She walked up next to me. “Okay, all the food is secure in the cooler inside the Jeep. Here are the keys, just in case.” She slammed them into my hand. “And I put some water near the tent in case you wake up and—”
She touched her stomach.
“And?” I prompted.
“Um.” Her eyes went wide as she looked behind me, then at the tent, then stared down at the shovel like it was her ending. “Um, I suddenly really have to go to the bathroom. Number one, not number two.”
“You’re an adult. You can tell me if you need to take a piss, Hazel. Just go around the tent and—“ Immediately, a rustling sounded, then I heard what might have been a growl.
She jumped against me, plastering her face to my chest. “It’s probably the raccoon again,” I said.
“I can’t pee with it watching me.”
“It has no feelings.”
“I do, though.” She wrapped her arms around my waist. “Plus, I can’t see. How am I going to see?”