Page 2 of For the Promise

I throw an arm around her. “Don’t lie. No one can regret a pastry from Parker. Besides, I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“And so very modest, too.”

I shrug as I drop my arm. “What’s the point in being modest? It’s not as if anyone else is going to toot my horn.”

She groans. “Please tell me you’re not carrying around a horn you expect me to toot.”

I sigh. “No room for a horn in this tiny bag.”

We shuffle a few feet forward. “This line is going to take forever,” Dakota whines. “This is the first time we've moved since we’ve been in it.”

I check my timer and frown. “We’ve been in line for two minutes. I don’t think their ‘20 minutes from here’-sign is correct.”

“I hate standing in lines. It’s such a waste of time.”

I agree with her, but I’m keeping my mouth shut. Dakota will use any excuse to not ride the rollercoaster. She’s notgetting out of this line on my watch. Even if I have to adjust my plan for the day.

“Let’s play a game to make the time pass.”

“I think we’re a little old for ‘I spy with my little eye’.”

I grin. “How about twenty questions? Smuggler’s Hideaway style.”

“What’s Smuggler’s Hideaway style?”

“You know how the island is obsessed with mermaids, smugglers, and moonshine?”

She snorts. “How could I miss it? Do you know how many women at theMermaid Motelare walking around dressed up as mermaids?”

“You must have lots of fun working at the motel.”

“Your definition of fun and mine are not the same.”

I ignore her grumpy response since I know Dakota is not a grump. She’s just tired. “Are you ready to pick a person or thing related to Smuggler’s Hideaway?”

We shuffle forward in the line for a few feet but stop again. “Fine. I’ll play. It’ll take my mind off standing in line.”

“It’s twenty minutes. What else do you have to do?”

She taps her cheek with her finger. “Hmm… What would I do? Oh yeah, now I remember. Sleep.”

A stab of guilt for denying her sleep hits me – Dakota works two full-time jobs and is always exhausted – but I ignore it. I’m not allowing my best friend to work herself into an early grave. She needs to have some fun, too.

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to sleep standing up?”

“I…” She breaks off to yawn. “Yes, yes, I am.”

“Come on,” I plead. “Let’s play the game.”

“Fine.” She gives in. “But only because I’m afraid of what you’ll write on my face if I fall asleep.”

I gasp. “I would never.”

“Because you can’t fit any markers in your tiny bag.”

I scowl. “I don’t know why I couldn’t bring my backpack into the park.”

She giggles. “Probably because it was filled with tiny bottles of liquor.”

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