Page 66 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Think!
She loved books, but books came in every color of the rainbow. What else did she love?
He snapped his fingers. “Two colors. Black and white because those are the colors of our dog’s fur,” he answered like the damn king of the mountain.
Buck slashed the paper. “No, that’s incorrect.”
He gasped. “What?”
“It’s rose,” Georgie called from across the gathering area.
His mouth fell open. “Rose? How could it be rose? Isn’t rose the same as pink? I thought you hated pink because your mom was all about that color,” he asked, needing some damn clarification.
Georgie’s cheeks flushed pink…rose. Whatever color it was, it wasn’t good for him.
“Rose is not pink,” she shot back.
He turned to Brice Casey. “Rose is pink, right?”
Brice glanced across the space at a sullen Camille. “Dude, my advice is to agree with Virginia.”
Jordan frowned. “Who?”
“Your fiancée, Virginia, she’s right over there,” Brice said, pointing toward Georgie.
This idiot!
And wait a second. Wasn’t he the idiot for asking for the rodent reaper’s advice?
“I’d like to respectfully disagree,” Jordan said, turning to Buck.
The wilderness boot camp leader cocked his head to the side. “You want to respectfully disagree with your fiancée’s favorite color?”
Jordan came to his feet and ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t realize we were doing fancy colors.”
“Rose is not a fancy color,” Georgie replied, rising up from the log bench.
“It’s pink, Georgie! Rose is pink, and you hate pink!” he replied as Brice sucked in a tight breath and shook his head.
“Dude, just agree,” Mr. Rodent Royalty whisper-shouted.
Jordan glanced down at Brice Hannibal Casey. There was no way he was taking advice from this guy.
He shook his head. “I can’t lose a point for this. I didn’t even know rose was a color,” he said as Brice grimaced.
“Rose is the shade of color halfway between red and magenta,” Georgie called, looking to the women, who were all nodding.
He paced the length of the circle. “Okay, I get it, babe. But rose is a fancy color. I thought we were choosing from the Crayola box of eight crayons.”
Buck shook his head. “Sorry, Jordan, but when I asked you what Georgie’s favorite color was, at no time, did I say it was limited to the Crayola eight,” Buck added, totally not helping a fellow man out.
Dammit! This is what he got for savoring Brice and Camille’s dust-up, and that was nothing compared to the show he and Georgie were putting on for the group.
“Ask me the next question,” he said, reclaiming his spot next to Brice.
Buck and Syd shared a glance.
“All right,” the man began with a twist to his lips. “If Georgie were given the choice of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a peanut butter and honey sandwich, which one would she choose?”
