two days ago! Two days ago, life had been perfect.
“Georgie, look out!” Jordan called.
“What?” she yelled back, but the smell answered.
She stared down at her shoe, smack-dab in the center of a giant pile of poop.
Jordan rushed over and took the clipboard from her. “Before you smashed the scat, did you get a look at it?”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to gag. She didn’t know which was worse. Pineapple or poop?
“If I saw it, I wouldn’t have stepped in it!” she snapped.
“Don’t move! Let me try and get a better look,” he directed with a stern expression.
“You want me to keep my foot in this pile of crap?” she shot back.
He met her gaze. “Yes, it’s a competition, Georgiana, and we’re not going to lose.”
She scoffed but quickly closed her mouth and pinched her nostrils. It was damn hard to maintain being pissed off while standing in a pile of random animal shit.
Jordan, unaware of her discontent, crouched down next to her crap-encrusted sneaker. “It could be mule deer or elk scat,” Jordan mused, staring at the pictures of poop on the clipboard. “Mule deer scat looks a little lighter in color, so I’m going to go with elk.”
“Great! I’m onboard with elk. Can I move?” she asked.
Jordan gestured for her to stay put. “Wait a second. It could be mule deer. The shape of the piece of scat you missed is a little bit smaller. Or this might just be scat from a small elk. What do you think?”
“I think I’m standing in a pile of shit, Jordan! Actual feces! And you don’t want me to move,” she yelled.
“Calm down and stop being a drama queen, Georgiana. This isn’t a wilderness beauty pageant,” he replied, studying the clipboard.
Oh, hell no!
“What did you say?” she asked, lowering her voice.
“You’ve been kind of a diva today, babe,” he answered, still staring at the damn shit.
“Diva? I’m a diva because I don’t want to stand in animal fecal matter?” she tossed back.
Jordan looked up and met her gaze as a boisterous bout of yips and yeehaws rang out. They glanced over to see Brice with Camille on his back, laughing and cheering as they charged toward camp, dodging rocks and tree stumps like Mr. and Mrs. Outdoor Adventure.
“Just fucking great,” Jordan mumbled.
“Can I please get my foot out of this pile of shit! Let’s go with elk scat. I don’t care!” she said, crossing her arms.
Jordan shook his head. “If you could be a little less beauty queen and a little more girl scout, we could have beat the Plunger Princess and her pest control prince.”
She stared at the Emperor of Asshattery, who had garnered another title.
“You know what, Mr. King of Crap? I think I’ve earned a little luxury. I barely slept last night. I’ve been busting my ass, trying to keep up with you and scan this godforsaken wilderness for animal droppings. If anyone on this planet could use a fresh tube of vegan cookie dough and a pedicure, it’s me!”
“We could put that on a sash! Little Miss I Could Use a Pedicure! Wouldn’t your mom be proud?” Jordan muttered.
“Get up!” she growled, like a marmot, if they growled.
Dammit, she had no idea what sound a marmot made.
He glanced away from the clipboard. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t get out of my way, my crap-covered foot is going to land square in the middle of your smug, scat-obsessed face.”
“Don’t be such a—” Jordan started, but the demon that lived in every woman pushed past her limit took over.
Her trifecta gasped. They knew that shit, scat, crap, or whatever you want to call it, was about to get real.
Hovering on the brink of losing her scat-despising mind, she leaned over and positioned her lips a breath away from Jordan’s ear. “If you say diva or beauty queen one more time, Jordan Marks, Emperor of Asshattery and Reigning Sovereign of Scat, I’m taking the shit shovel, digging a hole, then tossing your perfect ten asshat ass inside.”
8
Jordan
“Remember, folks, no peeking! Do not look at your other half’s answers,” Buck cautioned as he walked the perimeter of the gathering area, observing the seated couples.
Jordan stared at the questionnaire in front of him, erased his answer, then chanced a look at Georgie. She didn’t even glance up as she scribbled on the form as if she’d made it her life’s work to mistreat pencils.
To say the last two days had been an unmitigated disaster was unfair to unmitigated disasters. A