Page 1 of S'more Mountain Man

Chapter One

“Houston, we have a problem.”

Skye

I gripped the steering wheel of my powder blue Kia Soul and squinted through the bug-splattered windshield at what was supposedly a road but looked more like a deer trail having an identity crisis. The GPS on my phone had given up twenty minutes ago, right around the time the last cell tower decided I wasn't worth the effort. The July heat made the inside of my car feel like a greenhouse, even with the AC cranked to arctic levels.

"Turn right at the big pine tree," I muttered, mimicking Mandy's vague directions. "It'll be obvious, she said. You can't miss it, she said." I passed the thousandth big pine tree. They were all big. They were all pine. Nothing was obvious except that I was spectacularly lost.

The astronomy camp started in—I checked the dashboard clock—two hours. Two hours to find a campsite that existed in some parallel dimension where GPS signals feared to tread and cell phones became expensive paperweights.

Mandy had called eighteen hours ago with the desperate plea only a college roommate could pull off. "Star Babe, I need you. Like, desperately need you. Like, I will owe you free drinks for life need you."

"You already owe me free drinks for life from the great hair dye incident of junior year," I'd reminded her, already sensing my weekend plans evaporating. Those plans had primarily involved air conditioning, ice cream, and binging that new wilderness survival show with the unrealistically hot host. Ironic, considering where I was about to end up.

"Okay, fine, I'll throw in my secret brownie recipe. Look, our astronomy instructor just bailed. Food poisoning. I've got twelve tweens showing up tomorrow forStellar Nights: A Journey Through the Cosmosand nobody to teach them which end of a telescope to look through."

"Can't you just—"

"Skye. Please. You literally teach middle school science. You have that whole space unit. You own four telescopes."

"Three…I donated one to the school."

"Whatever. You're perfect for this. One night. That's all. Drive up, wow them with your nerdy space facts, make s'mores, drive home. Easy peasy. These kids are great—I've had most of them in other programs. They'll love you."

Famous last words.

I hit another pothole—crater, really—and my entire car shuddered. The graham cracker boxes in the back shifted with an ominous crunch. I'd cleaned out three grocery stores of their s'mores supplies, because if I was going to pretend to be a camp counselor, those kids were getting the full experience. My trunk looked like Willy Wonka had decided to specialize in campfire treats. Towers of Hershey bars, bags of marshmallows puffedlike cumulus clouds, and enough juice boxes to hydrate a small army.

I cranked down the window, letting in a blast of humid summer air that instantly made my tank top cling to my skin. Mosquitoes immediately recognized the invitation and swooped in. I slapped at one on my arm, cursing under my breath.

"Okay, Skye. You've got this." I gave myself a pep talk, something I'd gotten good at since Dad died two years ago. He would have loved this—getting lost while trying to teach kids about the stars.

"You're just a tiny bit lost in the Montana wilderness with no cell signal, wearing completely inappropriate footwear, with a trunk full of melting chocolate. What could possibly—"

The pothole that swallowed my sentence could have eaten Jupiter. My car lurched sideways with a mechanical shriek that would haunt my dreams. The steering wheel jerked right, and I fought to control the vehicle as it limped to the side of what barely qualified as a road.

"No, no, no, no, no." I pumped the brakes and wrestled my wounded Kia to a stop between two Douglas firs. The engine ticked like a time bomb in the sudden silence. Only the rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker somewhere above disturbed the oppressive quiet. Sweat trickled down my spine, making my "Future NASA Scientist" tank top stick to my back.

I turned off the engine and pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. The vinyl was warm from my sweaty palms, and it smelled faintly of the vanilla air freshener dangling from my rearview mirror—now swinging like a pendulum of doom.

"Okay. Flat tire. You've seen people change flat tires. How hard can it be?"

Twenty minutes later, I had my answer: impossible.

The spare tire—a pathetic donut that looked like it belonged on a shopping cart—lay abandoned in the dirt. My actual tire had shredded itself with spectacular thoroughness. Strips of rubber curled away from the rim like black party streamers from hell.

The jack, which I'd excavated from beneath seventeen layers of sleeping bags and telescope cases, sat at a useless angle. The lug wrench had vanished into the underbrush after I'd lost my grip during round three of woman-versus-bolt. The bolts themselves hadn't budged a millimeter, as if Zeus himself had personally tightened them.

Sweat trickled down my spine, making my tank top cling even more uncomfortably. My wedge sandals—cork-soled with cute star-shaped cutouts that had seemed camp-appropriate this morning—were already caked with dirt. They were perfect for summer brunches in Missoula, maybe even an air-conditioned planetarium tour. Not so much for bear country.

"Dad would be laughing his ass off right now," I muttered, glancing skyward. "Astronomy camp in the mountains in sandals? Really, Skye?"

Thunder growled in the distance, low and menacing.

I straightened, pressing my palms into my lower back. The forest pressed in from all sides, an endless wall of green that blocked out most of the afternoon sky. Shafts of sunlight pierced through gaps in the canopy, illuminating swirls of pollen and tiny insects. The air tasted of pine resin and that electric, heavy scent of approaching rain. The humidity hung like a blanket, making each breath feel like drinking soup.

"Okay, think, Skye. What would Dad do?" The answer came immediately: Dad would have had AAA, a full-size spare, and proper hiking boots. He also wouldn't have volunteered forsomething he was completely unqualified for in real life just because he couldn't say no to his best friend.

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