you know, with the fucking bears rummaging around the forest and all!
“Relax?” Relax?! “Yeah, I’ll try to do that once I find my heart that’s somehow made an escape into my damn boots.”
“Look,” he says, and I move my gaze to his. “Bailey is sleeping. This dog has done this trip hundreds of times. If there were a reason to be alert, he wouldn’t be sawing logs right now.”
Gah. I don’t know what else to do at this moment besides sigh and not move.
Or maybe I should hide inside my tent?
I never went on Daddy’s camping trips with him and Birdie, so hell if I know what to do when giant, meat-loving animals are involved.
“You ready to go home yet?” he asks, and I hate how hopeful his face looks. “Because I’ll gladly lose a day and help you get back.”
My competitive nature hardens me against my flight response.
“You ready to read the screenplay?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then, fuck no, I’m not leaving yet.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
Ditto, Luca Weaver. Freaking ditto.
Billie
Apparently, Alaska doesn’t put a limit on the number of times you can almost die in a visit. No, it’s a gosh darn all-you-can-eat buffet of catastrophe out here in the wilderness.
Last night, I almost died again.
Thankfully, it wasn’t from bears or wolves, but from how crazy cold it is at night here.
That’s right. In a tent, in the middle of nowhere, with my teeth chattering and toes and fingers completely numb, I almost met my fate.
Camping in Alaska in May is no joke.
Someone should have told me spring in this northern state doesn’t mean shit.
Once the sun goes down, the temperature drops like an underwire bra being taken off by a girl who just spent twelve hours at the office.
If it was twenty degrees last night, I was lucky.
I spent the majority of my night watching my breath leave my lips and shivering inside my sleeping bag. The other part was spent fixating on every little noise that surrounded my tent.
Sleep certainly didn’t get checked off my to-do list, and now, I’m faced with hiking god-only-knows how many miles today without the restorative properties of rest.
I’m so tempted, so incredibly tempted, to ask Luca how much longer until we can stop, but I bite my tongue and just keep telling my feet to move. Lord knows, at the pace he’s currently hiking, I don’t have a damn choice but to haul ass.
Nearly thirty-six hours into this wild Alaskan adventure and I’m not any closer to getting Luca to read the darn screenplay than when I started.
He’s still grumpy and broody and grumbling about any Hollywood-related question I ask him, and I’m still trying to figure out how I ended up here—hiking through the forest like a lunatic.
Because that’s what this is. Pure insanity.
Why on earth anyone would willingly want to go camping is beyond me. It goes against every survival instinct we should be programmed with. As technology evolves, so should the human race. If cavemen were offered a tent or a warm, cozy house that had electricity and a fridge stocked full of food, they’d light their cave on fire and move into the damn house. It’s a basic fucking survival skill!
Bailey sticks close to my side as I follow Luca up a hill without a path. No gravel or flattened dirt to guide us, we’re climbing over rocks and tree limbs and through all kinds of strange-looking plants that make me thankful I’m wearing pants.
The stupid hiking pack Earl packed for me has only managed to get somehow heavier along the way, and I don’t think my lungs have ever worked this hard to breathe. Air pulls into my tight chest and releases on heavy whooshes with each step. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips between my boobs. And my heart is pounding so hard, it might escape my chest before we make it to wherever we’re going.
I look up from my feet to find Luca moving up a rocky hill like his ass has turbo boosters.
Good God, man! Slow down!
A loud buzz bounces around inside my ear, and I squeal.
“Ah! Get away! Shoo, you little bastard!” I shout so loud, it echoes off the trees. Luca turns around to find me swatting at my face and ears.
Bailey barks. I swat some more.
“Everything okay back there?”
“Oh yeah, just peachy!” I yell toward him once the buzzing has blessedly disappeared. “I just love when bugs fly into my ears. Probably my favorite thing ever!”
I swear