Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,39

Casey-level douche canoe comment about her.

“But you have to admit, your name is confusing,” Brice said, sharing a nod with Camille.

“It’s so confusing because Georgia and Virginia are states,” Camille agreed with the logic of an empty paper bag.

“I think I’ve told you this before, but you should consider changing your name,” Brice said as his expression grew serious.

“You want me to change my name because you can’t remember it?” she repeated, incredulity lacing her words as heat bloomed on her cheeks.

Jordan must have sensed she was about to lose her shit and pressed his hand to her back.

“Well, Brice, Camille, how did you guys meet?” Jordan asked.

God bless this man for shifting the conversation.

Camille emitted an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a beautiful story.”

“It sure is,” Brice agreed.

Camille’s face lit up. “And we’re famous, too. Brice is Colorado Rodent Royalty, and I’m the Plunger Princess.”

Georgie shook her head to knock away the fatigue cobwebs. She had to be hallucinating from lack of sleep.

“Did you just say you were the Plunger Princess?” she asked.

“Camille’s family owns a plumbing business,” Jordan supplied.

“That’s right! We’re the largest family owned operation in the state. We’ve unclogged over a million toilets,” the woman remarked proudly.

“And my family has been in rodent removal for five generations. Mice, rats, squirrels, if it’s a rodent, we’ll remove it,” Brice added proudly, wrapping his arm around Camille.

Georgie’s gaze bounced between the couple. Was this ridiculous conversation really happening? Could this be the result of ingesting the equivalent of twenty-two vegan chocolate chip cookies on zero rest?

“Our families have been friends for years, and Brice and I reconnected at a wet T-shirt contest,” Camille continued.

At the mention of a wet T-shirt contest, Georgie snapped back.

“Was it the one I was in back in June?” she asked, addressing Brice.

“No, the next weekend,” Brice replied with absolutely no shame in frequenting weekly wet T-shirt contests.

“It was meant to be,” Camille gushed, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss Brice’s cheek.

“Yep, Camille is the perfect ten I always knew I’d end up with. Plus, a couple of months before we reconnected, Cammie traded in her C’s for D’s,” Brice added, gesturing to his fiancée’s ample bosom like they were a rack of ribs.

“Pooh Bear, you are the sweetest man,” Camille cooed.

Georgie caught Jordan’s gaze. Had they somehow wandered into the twilight zone? When they turned left instead of right, had they entered some bizarro bridal dimension? She looked around, hoping a camera crew would jump out and say surprise. After the last night and even this morning, she’d be up for a day at the Ritz spa with her mother.

And that was really saying something!

“Are you guys ready for the competition?” Brice asked.

Jordan crossed his arms. “What competition?”

Georgie swallowed hard. There was no mention of a competition in the email they’d received from the frau’s assistant, but, then again, there was no mention they’d be attending a wilderness torture event, either.

“A friendly wilderness survival skills competition between the couples. Cammie and I love this stuff,” Brice replied.

“You do?” Georgie asked.

These two barely had two brain cells between them. But at that thought, a kernel of hope bloomed. If these airheads could survive wilderness boot camp, surely, she and Jordan could, too.

“I was a highly decorated Girl Scout, and Brice was an Eagle Scout,” Camille replied.

The kernel of hope faded.

“I was a beauty queen,” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Brice and Camille stared at her, and she plastered on a high-wattage smile.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Was she intimidated by these morons?

No!

No, no, no, no!

She parted her lips to say she’d misspoken as the irksome clang of a cowbell rang out.

“We better head up. It looks like the race is about to begin,” Brice said to his fiancée.

“Are you guys coming?” Camille asked.

“We’ll see you up there,” Jordan answered as Brice and Camille headed toward the center of camp.

Jordan turned to their floppy tent and pulled out their shoes and backpacks. “We need to get ready fast. Grab the deer jerky. We can eat after the race.”

Georgie laced up, then opened the bear canister and placed the clump of meat into her backpack, while also keeping a watchful eye on her fiancé.

“What are the chances of two people from our pasts showing up here? It’s crazy!” she said as Jordan’s features remained neutral.

He grabbed their water bottles. “I don’t care what we have to do, Georgie. We’re not letting those two beat us at anything,” he said, his voice low as