Page 93 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
HART
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“WHAT THE HELL?” I squint through the windshield as the road stretches ahead.
Out of nowhere, the Foxes RV takes a hard left.
No warning.
No signal.
Just swerves.
“Wrong turn,” I mutter to myself as I crank the wheel.
It’s fast, rough, and off the route we agreed to take before heading out.
“You tryin’ to flip this thing?” Dean is already half-drunk on beef jerky, sprawled across the passenger’s seat, bitchin’ about his woman riding with the women.
The whole RV smells like a meat locker on wheels, salty, smoky, and a little bit sweet all at once.
“They turned too damn quick,” I snarl.
She turned too damn quick.
Jade.
The further we drive, the more I regret the decision to tag along.
But how am I going to stop her from doing the list with Bronx?
I can’t step in and offer myself. I can’t sit on the Ferris wheel and make her writhe under my touch.
Of all the guys in town, she landed on this one? He’s the biggest pussy hound this side of the county. Jade deserves better.
“This is not the route.” I’m definitely grumbling to myself, because Dean’s lost in his own thoughts.
“I was really countin’ on gettin’ some action on this moving bus.” The sound of him chomping on that jerky, like a woodpecker hammering a tree, is irritating the shit out of me. “I love a road bang in a moving vehicle.”
I shift gears smoothly, and the engine hums a deep, steady thrum I can feel through the wheel.
“You aren’t having one in here,” Levi shouts from one of the leather seats in the back area.
My folks’ bus is all dark walnut wood, black steel accents, and leather. In the back bedroom is a king-sized bed with metal framing, while the kitchenette features sleek granite and metal appliances. Industrial light fixtures hang overhead, and the whole space feels like a luxury garage meets a high-end hunting lodge.
They still attend Sterling and Sammy’s rodeo competitions in this beast, so it’s well-maintained.
“It’s on my bucket list, though,” Dean yells back, his voice grating on my ears.
“Don’t care,” Levi says. “That’s why you two are sleeping in a tent. No one wants to listen to that.”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause your wife is pregnant and you’re not getting any.” Dean rips into a fresh bag of jerky—Jalapeño Honey BBQ.
That spicy honey smell makes his mouth water, despite myself.
“Trust me, I ain’t jealous.” A short, amused huff slips past Levi. “Hope’s got the hunger. Her hormones are running rampant. We’ve had to get really inventive in finding positions that work.”
Dean’s silence is a rare moment.
