Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,48

at the map.

Of all the scenic wilderness on the planet, this swath of Colorado backcountry was the last place she wanted to set foot. She trudged forward, passing Weariness Way and headed straight for Exhaustion Junction.

God, help them! What a day it had been, and it wasn’t even close to being over.

And next to having little to no rest for the past couple of days, she and Jordan had lost…again.

Jordan had another Marks Perfect Ten meltdown, and now twenty people thought she was a sex maniac.

How could things have unraveled so quickly?

And they weren’t the only ones on the brink of losing it.

With disheveled hair and dark circles under their eyes, her literary trifecta slumped in a heap on the imaginary floor with no words of wisdom or pithy retorts at the ready.

Life with a shit shovel did not agree with them either.

Georgie rubbed her eyes. “We have to keep going. The map says there will be a red flag. That’s where we’ll find the tarp and the supplies for setting up camp tonight.”

“Georgie, yell at me! Call me the Secretary of Scat. Chuck the poop shovel at my head. Say something besides only giving me direction updates,” Jordan pleaded as she continued walking.

Muted by the thick blanket of clouds rolling in, the sun hung low in the sky, a hazy glowing circle. She used to love this part of the day. At about this time back in their real life, Jordan would be finishing up training his high school students, and she’d be tidying up the children’s area after the shop’s last story time. The butterflies in her belly would ready themselves, waiting for the bookstore’s door to open. She always knew when it was Jordan, and it wasn’t because of Mr. Tuesday’s excited yips or hearing one of her employees greet him.

She knew he was on his way over to see her even before he’d left his gym. She could feel him thinking about her. She could see the sweet hint of a smile on his lips the second before he opened the door and entered the bookshop. They’d had it all.

Perfectly in sync.

Magically in love.

And now, hopelessly lost—literally and figuratively.

Syd and Buck had given them a map to the private wilderness camping location, otherwise known as the loser lot, where they’d been relegated to make camp and spend the final night. She’d taken the map, grabbed her pack, and set off with Jordan a few steps behind her.

He’d been back there the whole time. It was not an easy feat for this man to walk at a tortoise’s pace, but that’s where he stayed, streaming apologies for the better half of the last ninety minutes.

He felt terrible. She knew this.

She shouldn’t have gotten so angry with him during the couples’ quiz. The man was used to ingesting green smoothies and fair-trade coffee. And to make matters worse, in a delirious fit during a sleepless night, she’d dug a hole and buried the can of pineapple, depriving him of even the most awful of canned fruits.

Would a hit of vitamin C have helped her fiancé de-asshat himself?

Thanks to her midnight trowel skills, she’d never know.

After days spent eating deer jerky and beef stew, anyone’s mind would be addled. He was out of his element as much as she was, but it wasn’t the bickering or the fights over jelly and cookie dough that had her worried. No, something darker scratched in the corners of her mind—a little voice planting seeds of doubt.

If you two can’t survive a few days without Wi-Fi, are you ready to pledge eternity to one another?

She stopped walking. “We need to do something, Jordan,” she said, still staring at the map despite not knowing where the hell they were on it.

“Are you talking to me? Like, really talking and not acting like a sleep-deprived navigation app?” he asked with the sweetest, hopeful lilt to his voice it nearly broke her heart.

She stuffed the map into her pack, then set it on the ground. “You need to kiss me,” she said as matter-of-factly as possible.

He observed her with a skeptical eye. “Is this a trick?”

After the last couple of days, she couldn’t fault him for asking.

“No, just kiss me,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and doing her best to look kissable after going days without a shower, which was not an easy thing to do. Luckily, her pageant training kicked in, and, at least, she had decent posture.

“On the mouth?”

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