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Brady sighed deeply, looking to the side.
“I mean, at least your receptionist didn’t mess that up,” I offered. “We sucked all on our own, there.”
“Trust me, Cade. If there’s bad luck to be had, June Matthews can cause it. Thanks for letting me know.”
I gave him a mocking “cheers” with my coffee cup. “I’m going to disappear into the mountains now. I’m less of a failure up there.”
“Not a bad idea,” he muttered.
“You said you were going to Peace and Love Camp. Have fun with that.”
“Shut up, Cade.” Brady hung up, and I snorted, sipping my bad coffee again. Well, it could have gone worse. I didn’t curse even once, and Brady didn’t threaten to break someone’s nose.
I ran back inside the Dam Store to fill a plastic grocery bag with sugary shit that would win my ladies over, and with a fresh, hot cup of coffee for Laurel, I headed back to the mountain road that led to our campsite. Rain hammered against my windshield as I bumped up the dirt road, one hand on the top of Laurel’s coffee cup lid and the other maneuvering around potholes and washboard road texture. By the time the mountains and pines had swallowed my truck in their misty shadows, the storm had released in earnest.
Through my fast-moving windshield wipers, I could just make out our tent and picnic table, and found Laurel running around the campsite, her feet in unstrapped sandals and her lace-capped pajama tank already drenched from the downpour. She was wearing her new pair of glasses, which I’d known she’d desperately needed, but she hadn’t given in to getting an appointment until she’d saved up enough money to afford it. We’d have to work on that—she still didn’t accept my help if I offered.
I put the truck in park and dashed into the rain. As Laurel ran around, ducking down and picking up items off the picnic table, I shook my head. I didn’t care what her reasons were for being out there in the rain, but I did know that I wasn’t going to let her continue. Knowing her, she’d end up with whatever worst-case scenario waited at the end of her harebrained thought process. She’d slip on a puddle and bash her head on a cast-iron pan, or the wind would blow a tree branch on her head and make her forget I ever existed.
She looked up as I approached, her brown hair molded to her neck and down to her breasts. Her red glasses were fogged over, and she was panting slightly. She shouted over the din, “Can you believe this? We left all our stuff out here!”
“Get in the tent,” I said, like that was obvious. “Why are you in the rain?”
“Our stuff!” she said, brandishing a can of insect repellent.
“For God’s sake,” I grumbled. “Is Calla still sleeping?”
“Oh yeah, she’s out.”
“Good.” I hooked an arm around her waist, and ignoring her gasp of protest, I hauled her back to the warm, dry truck that was still running behind us. I opened the driver’s side door and clamping her ass and back to my stomach, hauled us both into the cab.
As I slammed the door, Laurel curled her legs up to avoid the steering wheel, and then rotated her body so she sat sideways on my lap with her knees against the driver’s side door and her fingers clutching my damp T-shirt. She fit snugly in my lap in the same way a cat curled into a round bed in a semi-liquid state.
I reached up to take off her glasses, perching them carefully on the dash behind her.
In the sudden hush of the truck cab, Laurel licked a drop of rainwater off her upper lip, staring at me with wide, slightly annoyed, cerulean eyes. “What are you doing?” she hissed, like the sudden quiet required muted voices.
“Saving you from yourself,” I replied honestly.
“We have stuff getting soaked,” she whispered.
I leaned forward so our lips were a centimeter apart. “Why are we whispering?” I breathed out, so softly, she could have felt the words better than she could have heard them.
Her breath caught, and her fingers splayed against my chest. “I don’t know,” she said in a breathy voice. “It’s so quiet in here.”
I couldn’t resist. I flicked out my tongue to taste a bit of rainwater on her lower lip. The freshest fjord spring water couldn’t have tasted purer than that.
Laurel swallowed audibly. “Stop distracting me. I have to save our marshmallows and graham crackers.”
My fingers kneaded soothing circles over the tight muscles bracketing her spine, and as I did, Laurel melted into me like a toasted marshmallow. “That’s probably for the best,” I said.
“I like marshmallows,” she protested, her voice drowsy and her eyes already heavy like she’d been sedated.
“You know what’s better than marshmallows?”
Laurel angled her face so our lips were close again. So close I could feel her breath fan out across my mouth. “Mnh,” was all she said.
A smile curved my lips. “You did that on purpose.”
