Page 54 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Georgie’s eyes went wide, pleading for her fiancé to come up with a better explanation.
“Georgie got stuck in the sleeping bag,” he offered.
“Try unzipping it,” came Buck’s voice.
Perfect. They had an audience. Who else was out there?
“Here, let me unzip the tent, and I can give you a hand,” Syd offered.
“No!” she and Jordan cried in unison.
“We’ve got it under control. Give us a sec,” Georgie called, squirming and jostling to pull up her yoga pants as Jordan did a weird inchworm jiggle to slide his track pants into place.
The tent scraped along the ground, scratching and grating against the tiny rocks and fallen pine needles. She turned to try to wiggle her way out when her elbow connected with Jordan’s eye.
“Ow!” he yelped.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, attempting to touch his face but only succeeding in poking his other eye.
“Jesus, Georgie!” he bit out.
“Do you two need the first aid kit?” Buck asked, with an amused bend to his words.
Jordan pressed his hand to his eye. “No, we’re good.”
“We’re coming out,” Georgie called, unzipping the sleeping bag and then unzipping the tent.
The bright morning sun blinded her, and she waved her arm, attempting to shield her eyes only to knock Jordan in the face for the third time.
“Babe, watch your hands,” Jordan exclaimed.
“I can’t see anything,” she answered, blinking hard and turning away from the light as if she were a campground vampire—if those even existed.
Her trifecta shook their heads in disagreement. Of course, no respectable vampire would ever go camping. Georgie pushed her literary companions out of her mind as she crawled out of the tent. She blinked again as her eyes adjusted, only to look up to find a sea of hiking boots.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Buck sang out.
A wave of relief washed over her. “We get eggs?” she asked, staring up at the mountain man.
He frowned. “No, it’s an expression. You get deer jerky and pineapple chunks unless you’ve got a rabbit or a squirrel hidden in that heap of a tent you want to cook up.”
At the thought of that wretched can of tropical fruit, she pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Eat up and join us at the center of camp, sleepy heads. We’re about to get started,” Syd added over her shoulder.
Get started? She was ready for this nightmare to end.
Jordan helped her to her feet as she listened to the crunch of hiking boots heading away from them.
She scanned her fiancé’s face. “Are you all right, Jordan? I didn’t mean to hit you three times.”
He rubbed below his eye, which had already taken on a yellow-green tinge. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll survive.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “Want me to kiss it to make it better?”
His gaze darkened, but the man froze when a woman’s voice caught them off guard.
“JordyStrawsMarks? Is that you?”
