Staring at him blankly, I ask, “Haven’t you ever been camping?”
“Grady, does it fucking look like I go camping?”
I give Xander a quick once-over before we both bust up laughing in the middle of the aisle. “Fuck it,” I mutter, grabbing the box. “I’m getting this one.”
After we find an air mattress and check out, we hop in Cope’s truck that Xander borrowed, and we head back to the campsite.
“This just seems extreme,” Xander says, indicating toward the bag with my camping needs. “Is it really that bad sleeping in the camper with Boone?”
“Xander,” I deadpan. “I had a wet dream the other night. Awet dream!”
He coughs, trying to hide his laugh. “Yeah, okay. That would suck. Still, a tent? Why don’t you sleep in our camper?”
I throw him a sideways glare, like he’s lost his mind. “You mean the camper that you and Cope share with Shooter and Sterling?” I balk. “I’m good. That sounds like a massive fuck-fest I don’t need to be privy to.”
Xander laughs, but doesn’t deny anything.
We get back to the campsite, and I immediately start trying to build this tent—tryingbeing the operative word here—before nightfall. Xander helps too, but he’s more clueless than I am when it comes to these veryun-informative directions. I don’t know where Boone and the rest of the guys are, but he doesn’t show up until the tent is nearly all the way built, and I’m dripping in sweat.
“What the hell is this?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunched together.
“What does it look like?” I toss back. “It’s a tent.”
“Obviously it’s a tent, G,” he counters. “What’s it doing here?”
Suddenly feeling like a petulant child, I stand tall, placing my hands on my hips, and I jut out my chin. “It’s where I’m sleeping from now on.”
Boone narrows his gaze on me, folding his arms over his chest, making his form look even bigger and intimidating than it already is. “No, you’re not.”
My eyebrows pinch together, thrown off by his hard, stern tone. “Uh, yes, I am.”
“Why?” He holds eye contact in a way that’s intimidating. It makes me want to squirm.
All of the sudden, it feels like Boone and I are in this awkward standoff. I’m unprepared for this question, and it’s abundantly clear when I stand here like a fish out of water, searching for any answer I can think of. Finally, I land on, “Because I enjoy the outdoors.”
His eyes narrow, clearly not believing me. “Grady…”
“Boone,” I counter, not backing down.
“You’re not sleeping in a fucking tent when there’s a perfectly good bed in the camper. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” I grumble. “It’s my choice. I’m a fucking adult who can make decisions for myself. If I want to sleep in a tent, I’ll sleep in a damn tent.”
Boone’s eyes widen, and I swear, my heart stalls in my chest. Where didthatattitude come from?
“I realize you’re an adult,” he replies slowly, almost like he, too, is stunned by my outburst.
“Okay, then it’s settled.”
He looks like he wants to press the issue further, but in the end, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Whatever, Grady,” and stalks off. Before disappearing inside the camper, Boone glances over his shoulder and says, “I’ll be video chatting with Suzy tonight before dinner if you want to talk to her too.”
After I finish blowing up the air mattress and putting my blankets and pillows in the tent, I join everybody else for dinner. Colt grilled steak and potatoes, and we all hang out around the fire, throwing back a few beers before everyone calls it a night.The first rodeo of the weekend is tomorrow, so everyone wants to get a good night’s rest. I choose to take a shower before I call it a night, but by the time I’m finished, it’s pouring down rain.
Great.
This is just great.
Staring up at the sky like it holds all the answers, I curse the gods before stomping over to my dumb tent.
