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And… we have lift off.
Lola raises her phone and snaps a picture of Hunter. “I’m buying a new piñata.”
“Not dating, huh?” I knew Hunter was lying.
“No,” he snaps.
“You suck,” Lola announces. She stomps toward her truck. Colt, being a smart man, hightails it down the driveway to move his own truck out of her way. From the look of extreme displeasure on Lola’s face, she’d happily run our ride over if it got in her way.
“Not dating anymore,” I say helpfully. “You totally fucked that up.”
I finish my Snickers bar while Hunter holds some painful-looking internal debate with himself. I’m not much for monologuing myself.
“You ready to hit Tits Up?” I ask more to help him along. The look on his face is downright constipated. Whatever he’s contemplating, it’s not making him happy. A beer can only help, but he’s clearly not open to suggestions at the moment.
Hunter grumps something in my direction that might or might not be words and then strides off. Seconds later I hear the growl of a truck engine.
“Hope to fuck that’s not my ride,” I say to the rapidly emptying fire circle. I don’t think Colt would leave me stranded, but it’s been a weird night.
Sarah Jo makes a peeping sound from where she’s hovering on the edge of the action. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t hightailed it back into the cabins and barricaded her door. Guess she really is hiding a backbone under all those clothes.
“Oscar the Grouch,” she says quietly.
“Excuse me?” I give up trying to play it cool so as not to crowd her or scare her. She could have ignored me or slunk away but she stuck around. Now she gets to talk with me. My dick perks right back up.
“That’s what everyone calls him, right? He’s just acting in character.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe she’s used to polite, gentlemanly, suit-wearing guys and some kind of Zen-like quiet zone shit in her personal life. Maybe that’s why I freaked her out so badly, coming out of the dark like a caveman as I did.
I don’t want to scare her. I should get up, go, give her her space. Instead, I keep right on talking.
“You gonna hit me with that?” I nod at the bat she’s still clutching. The brunette seems to have disappeared, and we’re alone with the fire someone needs to put out. Sarah Jo’s eyes dip to the bat in her hand. She looks sort of surprised, like she’s not sure how she ended up armed and dangerous. I’m sure plenty of criminal careers have started that way.
She mumbles something and tosses the bat onto the ground. Not too far away, I can’t help but notice. But then she lays in a course for me and comes right on over. She even offers me a handful of candy. The stuff’s probably been on the ground and beaten to a pulp by her bat. Piñatas have never struck me as terribly hygienic, but I snag her offering and tear open a package of mini M&Ms. The fire camp’s down a cook—again—and it was slim pickings in the cafeteria earlier tonight. The girls who cook for us can’t keep up with the demand. Sarah Jo sinks down on the edge of the log.
Since she looks a little hesitant, I try to be helpful. “I only eat little girls on Wednesdays and Thursdays, so you’re safe.”
“Until next week.” She sighs with mock seriousness. “Duly noted, Mister Hotshot.”
“You gonna give me shit if I stay here?” I drag my palm over my head. Fucking need to get a haircut sometime soon or I’ll look like Colt with his stupid, stubby man bun.
“You want to hang out here?” She sounds vaguely horrified.
Do I?
“Might be hazardous.” I rub my hand over my chin and give her my best mock-thoughtful look. “Seeing as how folks here like to wander around armed and dangerous.”
She snorts. Win.
Colt picks this minute to prove he’s waiting for me after all. The man starts honking up a storm. The cocksucker thinks he’s got musical talent because he varies the beeps and lengths like he’s playing me a symphony of hurry-the-fuck-ups. I get that sitting around in the dark waiting on my ass isn’t his idea of a good time, but I’d like to know that Sarah Jo’s okay. That’s what you do when you accidentally scare the shit out of someone. On the other hand, if she says she’s not fine, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Colt won’t wait all night for me and the only fix-it solutions I have are duct tape or kissing it better.
