Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I glare at her. That doesn’t stop her from whispering “backpack, hooray!” under her breath.
We might not make it off this mountain.
I ignore her and find my bandages and petroleum jelly, then I pull out an antibacterial wipe and clean my hands. She watches me curiously.
“I think it’s going to rain,” she says as another clap of thunder breaks through the sky.
“Give me your foot,” I say, crouching down in front of her.
She stares at me. “My foot is sweaty.”
I hold out my hand, matching her stare. She doesn’t blink. I don’t budge.
“Seriously, look at the clouds,” she says, tilting her head toward the sky. “They look angry.”
“Not as angry as I am if you don’t give me your foot.”
“Fine.” She extends her foot to me and winces. “Do you have a plan if it rains?”
“It’s not going to rain, Georgia. I know you applied for a meteorology job, but that doesn’t make you an actual meteorologist.”
“Rude.”
I lift her foot and inspect her heel. It’s bright red and starting to blister. I carefully apply a coat of petroleum jelly and cover it with a bandage.
When I look up, she’s watching me with a softness in her eyes that makes my breath stall in my chest.
“There you go,” I say, my voice low. I clear my throat. “Put your sock and shoe back on and we’ll head down the hill.”
“What are we going to do about footage?”
The sky rumbles overhead. “We can get it another day, or you can swing by my house with me.”
She gets back to her feet. “To your house? Why?”
“Waffles is scared of storms.”
Her lips twist into a smile. “Your dog?”
“Yeah.”
She catches up and walks alongside me. The wind picks up, and the air cools. Treetops sway back and forth in a menacing movement. And I hate to admit it, but I can smell the dirt in the air.
There is a storm coming.
“Where did you get Waffles?” she asks.
“I was downtown one day for something, who knows what now, and there was a guy sitting on a bench with a cardboard box with three puppies.” I smile sadly. “Two of them were healthy-looking dogs. A couple had found them just a few minutes before me and were haggling with the man about taking them. He wanted something like fifty dollars each for them, and the couple wanted to give him fifty total.”
“What about the other puppy?”
“Well, the other puppy was about half the size of the others. Still, he was biting their tails and trying to dominate them, and he was so damn cute. I heard the guy say that the puppy was the smallest of the litter, and the mother didn’t really seem to care much for him. I picked him up and he bit the tip of my finger and growled at me.” I chuckle. “And I kind of fell in love with him right there.”
She smiles up at me. “So you took him home.”
“I did. He’s my buddy. And he hates storms—shit!”
Water pours from the sky in buckets. The wind rocks the trees, causing them to sway back and forth so hard they appear to bend. Lightning strikes across the sky, cracking in the distance, and Georgia shrieks and looks to me for instructions.
“Don’t run,” I shout over the commotion. “The ground will be slippery.”
She shrieks again. “What do we do?”
“There was a ranger cabin a few minutes back. Let’s go there.”
“Okay!”
We start down the trail that’s already slick from the rain. Georgia’s feet slide out from beneath her, and I catch her before she falls on her ass. Mud splashes up the backs of our legs and water soaks our clothes.
“I told you it was going to rain,” she yells. “Don’t you have an umbrella in that backpack of yours?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
We slide partially down a small hill, holding hands as we go. Droplets stream down my face, making it hard to see, so I run my hands over my head to push my soaked hair out of my face.
“Careful,” I warn. “Don’t grab those branches to keep you steady. They’ll snap off.”
“Ugh.” She looks at me with melted mascara around her eyes. “Will you carry me?”
I laugh. “No, I will not carry you. I’m barely not wiping out on my own.” I shake my head, blowing water off my lips. “Why are you like this?”
“Because I’m a Taurus!” she shouts. “I love creature comforts and solitude. This is neither of those.”
“Oh, sure. Blame it on astrology.”
She shoots me a dirty look, which is impressive considering the situation. “Take your Scorpio tendencies elsewhere. This is not the time.”
I’m a Scorpio? “There’s the cabin. To your left.”
“Thank God.”
We step across a washout on the trail and hop to the other side. An unkempt pathway leads to a porch that has seen better days, but we climb the rickety stairs, Georgia shivering at my side.