Page 46 of Own the Eights Gets Married
It also said fucking alpacas, but he didn’t have time to worry about that.
“No, I’m pretty sure our destination is down that way,” he said, glancing to the left down a dirt road.
Georgie was back to twisting the hem of her skirt. “Maybe it’s another resort, and they’re having a new sign made. It does get quite windy in the foothills. This might be a temporary thing. A quick fix,” she said, her voice going up a nervous octave.
This was not good!
“That’s got to be it,” he agreed, doing his best to sound upbeat and not terrified at the prospect of running into an angry alpaca in the wilderness.
He took his foot off the brake, and the car inched forward as the headlights revealed a slice of duct tape on the cardboard sign withbridalwritten in angry block letters.
“I guess this is the bridal boot camp,” Georgie said, staring at the sign.
He couldn’t look away either. “Yep, it seems to be the case.”
She glanced up at the twinkling lodge. “No Knotty Pines for us.”
“I’m sure whatever is down this way is just as nice,” he said, but the chill working its way down his spine disagreed.
Georgie nodded as he turned the steering wheel to the left and maneuvered the BMW SUV down a dirt road.
“Mrs. Gilbert says she loves knitting with alpaca yarn,” Georgie threw out, her voice still hovering in that uneasy octave.
“I’m sure the animals are kept far away from the boot camp,” he replied.
She nodded. “You’re probably right, but it might be nice to pet one.”
“Oh yeah?” he answered, working to keep his voice out of theholy-shitballs-what-the-hell-were-they-walking-intorange.
But before he could dwell on the not so pleasant attributes of alpacas for another second longer, they pulled up to a giant gate.
He cut the ignition. “What do you think we do now? I don’t see anything around here?”
“Let’s see if we can open it,” Georgie offered.
They got out of the car and walked toward the metal structure when the click of a shotgun being cocked stopped them in their tracks.
“Hello?” Georgie called, coming to his side.
“Are you here to try to steal an alpaca?” came a man’s gruff, raggedy voice.
“No, sir,” Jordan called back.
“You don’t like alpacas?” replied the stern voice from the depths of the forest.
“They’re lovely animals, but we’re here for the bridal boot camp. I’m Georgiana Jensen, and this is my fiancé, Jordan Marks. Is this the right place?” Georgie asked, sharing a wide-eyed glance with him.
Jordan held his breath, praying this was not the right place when a woman’s husky laugh peppered the air. Georgie gasped and grabbed onto his arm as a woman carrying a lantern emerged from the trees with a man close behind. Decked in camouflage, the couple looked like the grandparents’ version of GI Joe figures.
“Buck, don’t you tease these young folks. They’re our last arrivals, the CityFeetpeople who signed up last minute.”
“Beat. It’s CityBeat,” Georgie corrected as the wilderness couple stared at them in the hazy darkness.
“And don’t worry. We aren’t expecting any special treatment,” she added in what sounded a hell of a lot like her beauty pageant voice.
This was really not good.
“That won’t be a problem here, miss. When it comes to braving the elements, nature decides what lives and what dies,” the man answered somberly.
