Page 46 of Cold Foot Croc

“Your dick is too good.”

“Oh hell,” he laughed, rolling back toward her and dragging her close.

Now she was in full joking mode because his laughter was filling her soul with the good stuff. “As long as you give me an occasional good wienering, you can live.”

He was laughing so hard now, his shoulders shook with it.

The air mattress under them popped suddenly, and theywhooshedto the ground. Raynah yelped, but he pulled her partially on top of himself in a blur so she didn’t hit the hard floor of the tent like he did. That caused round two of their cackling laughter, and today was her favorite day of her entire life. Hands down, it was the best.

She’d never felt so happy, or so free to be her exact self.

Oh, she was falling so hard for this man, and with each hour that passed with him, she became more hopeful about everything.

Maybe Garret had been right.

Maybe her punishment was done.

Maybe she was past the bad.

Chapter Ten

Today was probably the day Garret was going to die.

The music in his truck cut off, and he looked down at his phone screen to see Dylan was calling. He answered the call and said, “Hey man, can I call you back?”

“Sure, as soon as you tell me why you’re in Cold Foot territory.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“I put an Apple AirTag in your glove box, you fuckin’ foreskin. Now turn around and come back to town.”

Garreteerkedto a stop and yanked open the glove box, and sure enough, there was a little round disk sitting in there. “What is wrong with you?”

“You mean what is right with me? A lot. Turn around.”

“I have business.”

“Girls are not business, Gar. Girls are fun distractions, but you are not ready for any of this yet.”

Anger flashed through him. “I’m ready for whatever I think I’m ready for. Mind your own business, Dylan. It’s too much.”

“Think this through! You’re going into the territory of the phoenix after Damon Daye already lit you up, and after you promised him you would stay away from them.”

He hated when his brother made good points. He wished Dylan was born dumber sometimes. “I’ll call you when I get back. We’ll go get a beer or something.”

“Garret Emerson Hoffm—”

Click.He hung up before Dylan could get the rest of his name out. Only Mom was allowed to get him in trouble with his whole name.

A text came through, and his phone automatically started reading it through his speaker system without him even pushing a button.

“Dylan says ‘Survival is awesome.’”

“Oh my gah! How do I turn this off,” he muttered, poking around on the phone screen.

“Dylan says ‘You are going to throw away everything we have built here—’”

Garret unplugged the phone from the aux cord. There.

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