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“Cute,” is the best witty comeback I can pop off with.
“Oh, come on, I couldn’t resist.”
And we’re back to the stipulation she put on the dates. To be honest, I don’t have the first clue as to how to figure out what her name is. Like everyone in town, I’ve just called her Chip. Sure, I’ve been curious about her name, even going so far as to give her a nickname that has nothing to do with her preferred name, but to actually figure it out without some help is going to be damn near impossible.
“Bethany. Alex. Sarah,” I fire off the names.
“Nope.” Her cheeks crease harder, if that’s even possible. The little shit is enjoying torturing me.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Good luck,” she fires back.
Once the pop song dies off, the familiar tune of Eminem’s “My Name Is” comes on. I chuckle at that one, and then laugh outright at Kid Rock yelling “My name is Kid Rock.”
“Do you have a whole playlist to tease me about not knowing your name?” I ask.
“I may have made one after last night.”
“I bet you did.”
I steer the truck out of town to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “What’s Your Name,” chuckling the whole way, and head west toward the mountains. Once I pull off where I want, I turn to Chip. She’s staring out the window trying to see where we are.
“Uh. You’re not going to murder me and chop me into tiny pieces before burying me in an unmarked grave and planting endangered plants over the top of me so no one finds my remains, right?” The words rush out of her, and I can only gape in her direction.
“That was oddly specific. But no, none of that is planned for tonight.”
“I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts.”
I shudder. “You’re one of those girls. Please don’t tell me you’re obsessed with Halloween and fall too?”
“And what if I am?” she fires back.
I pretend to think about it for a minute before I say, “I’ll just have to live with it. Come on.” I push open the door and step out before opening the back door of the truck and pulling out the first bundle. Chip’s door squeaks open before she comes around to the back of the truck where I’m climbing up into the bed and moving shit around.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting up. Can you grab the other bag out of the back? It should be on the floor behind your seat,” I say while I attach the pump to the air mattress I brought with us.
“Is this peppermint schnapps?” she asks from the side of the truck.
I look up and in the direction of her voice since I can’t make her out in the pitch-black night.
“It sure is.” I finish with the mattress and set it down before quickly zipping together the two king-sized flannel sleeping bags I brought with me.
“Come up here,” I say and step toward the tailgate of the truck.
Instead of taking my hand, Chip hoists herself up and gazes at the bed and blankets before shooting me a suspicious glance.
“What’s all this?”
“Pfft. You think the bed is the only reason you’re here?” I chuckle and tuck my fingers under her chin before tilting her face back so she’s looking up at the sky.
“Oh my God,” she says in awe.
“That’s why you’re here. We’re going to look at the stars. The air mattress and sleeping bags are just so you’re warm and comfortable while we do it.”
“There are so many of them,” she says.
