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 stared, then stared harder. “That looks small.”
“What?” He swatted away my pointed finger. “There aren’t any spiders or bugs. What’s your deal?” I pointed again, and he swatted again, then cursed. “Seriously, what’s your issue? Have you really never seen a tent before?”
First off, it was yellow—bright yellow. NASA would have no trouble finding us, just like every other creature, Bigfoot included. “Why is it so small-looking?”
He stared at it, then back at me, then back at it. “Because it’s for one person. Maybe two total if you spoon the hell out of each other. But don’t worry, princess. You’ll be in your tent. Everything’s fine.”
In that moment, I didn’t think I would ever be able to adequately describe the actual panic that stripped my soul and humanity. “Um, my tent?”
You know when you know you’re completely screwed, and your body kind of goes numb, but your hands manage to prickle all over while a cold chill rests on your skin? And then you get those bad goose bumps, not the good ones that tell you you’re about to be kissed or pressed against a wall with your hair pulled in a really good way? That. That was this feeling.
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Your tent. It was right next to the third chair on the ground and the extra sleeping bag your dad left for you.”
“Ha ha.” It wasn’t funny. “The extra sleeping bag?”
His green eyes furrowed. “Yes, to sleep in, unless you planned on wrapping yourself up in a blanket and sleeping on the sand under the stars.”
“I didn’t bring it,” I blurted.
His yellow, bundled-up tent dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry, what? Because it sounded like you just said you didn’t bring it. Define it. I need to know what it is.”
I gulped and hugged my body. “It would be more like a plural word in this scenario?”
“How plural? And why is that a question? It should be a statement, like…oh, I forgot my bug spray, or my phone. My charger. I forgot my favorite bag of chips. What did you not bring, Hazel?”
“I was distracted.” I sidestepped the question. “And may have forgotten to put my tent and the extra sleeping bag in the Jeep.”
Had he yelled, I would have felt much better. Instead, he just stared at me like he was about to throw the tent and leave me to fend for myself. “So, you’re saying you forgot what you needed for the camping trip?”
“Look.” I spread my arms wide. “It’s not a big deal. I can sleep in the Jeep.”
He burst out laughing. “You’re going to sleep in the SUV and freeze to death at night? Do you realize how cold it gets? And we aren’t keeping the Jeep on all night. The tent holds body heat, and we put it in front of a fire. Do you even know how nature works, or is it just a guess from reading at this point?”
I rolled my eyes. “I know what you mean, but how cold is it actually supposed to get tonight?”
Rain started to come down as the wind picked up.
I was already shivering.
He grabbed his tent. “Come on, help me put this up, and we’ll figure the rest out. Don’t grab the firewood yet, and leave the dry blankets.”
I huffed and followed him toward the edge of the tree line. He pointed up at the large trees. “If we camp here, it shouldn’t get too windy, and we can at least have a fire. The farther we get toward the ocean, the windier it gets. Normally, this area is calmer, but early summer storms can be a thing here, especially with the rain.”
I nodded like I knew exactly what he was talking about. He dropped the tent to the ground and started pulling pieces out of the bag. “Just tell me how I can help.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I would tell you to read the instructions, but it would just take longer. Why don’t you start setting up the chairs and build a place for the fire, as in put rocks in a small circle, dig out a dry hole, and put in the firewood? Then grab the poop shovel and—“
“The what shovel?” I asked.
He sighed like I was the most annoying person on the planet and turned, hands on his narrow hips. Why did jeans have to look so good on him? And why did his stupid thighs match the tree trunks next to him? “For the bathroom.”
“A bathroom shovel? But you called it a poop shovel.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I'll use better words. The poo or potty shovel. Grab it from the back so if you have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, you already have a hole dug out so you can bury your surprise in nature.”