Page 165 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
My mind’s stuck on what he said. On the words I couldn’t say back. My thoughts are still entangled with him when morning comes. I can’t tell if I’m exhausted or just numb.
I drag myself out of bed, but I can’t shake my anger.
I avoid him all day. I leave the campsite before he does, keep my distance at the booth, and pretend like I don’t feel the tension every time our paths cross. I manage not to make eye contact, even through the back-and-forth pranks that have been occurring all day.
Our folding chairs were zip-tied together this morning. Then Celi glued googly eyes to the guy’s product, which they enjoyed. They shot back by putting a Bluetooth speaker under our table that played random animal sounds. And Hope walked over there and faked contractions.
It’s been a fricken day, and I don’t even realize I’m not fully awake until Josie hands me a slushie concoction she’s whipped up.
I gag halfway through the first slurp of what reminds me of bacon dipped into a unicorn’s bathwater. But I swallow, fighting the urge to spit out the liquid in front of the entire rodeo market.
“What is this?” I reach for another slushie flavor or a napkin, or a blasted Wilde jerky—anything to rid the taste in my mouth.
The closest relief is an open pack of meat sticks at my fingertips.
“Cotton candy and bacon.” Josie sounds proud of the disaster she shared with me. “Don’t you like it?”
I turn away from the crowd to gag again. I grab one of the jumbo meat stick and sink my teeth in. The smoky flavor hits me first, with a hint of sweetness. Like the cotton candy and bacon combo, but the Wilde meat tastes so much better. I hear it in myhead, the second the words jumble around, but my taste buds don’t give me a moment to wallow in it.
“A sample of our newest flavor, The Fox Lodge’s famous Carnival Smoke just for you.”
I spin around and catch the new slushie concoction from my sister’s hand just before she passes it to the mama waiting with her son.
“Try this one.”
I plaster on my best “lodge ambassador” smile, even though I hate every minute of it, and trade the slushy-style drink for the Foxhole Freeze.
“Kids at the lodge love this flavor.”
Socializing is not my thing. It’s why I designed this booth with fun samples and giveaways, because my talking up the lodge would be worse than my sister’s failed slushie brew.
“I don’t think you gave that flavor the appreciation it deserves.” Josie lifts a jug of the mixed slushie disaster above her Yeti.
“You already have a drink in there—”
Too late. She pours the thick crushed ice blend into the Yeti.
“I know. It’ll add more flavor.” She taps the jug against the side of the Yeti, loosening stubborn chunks.
“Add more flavor to what?”
She holds the Yeti to me. “Want to try?”
I shake my head. “No one will try that.”
I take the empty blender jug from her and set it inside the cooler I’m taking back to the RV tonight to rinse.
“I know a guy”—she snaps on the lid and slides the thick straw into the slot—“who will love the sentiment. Or not.” She shrugs. “Probably not. That’s what’ll make it perfect.”
“No more special mash-ups from you.” I dig out a bag of ice and a new blender jug.
“Rule stickler.”
“Where did you even get bacon flavor?”
“That’s my secret.” She slaps my ass before turning to leave.
“No, no, no.” I catch her arm. “You were late showing up—”
