Page 47 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
“Well,Landon, we’re going to hand out flyers for the barbecue.”
“And who is walking with us?”
I smile, loving the lighthearted way he handles his videos. Sometimes he’s a bit over-the-top—but in a completely endearing way. No wonder the family has so many subscribers. “This is Bark.”
He films as we walk, switching to a natural, conversation mode for his viewers. We make our way through the campground, handing out flyers and chatting with people. The retirees like to talk in particular—especially to the camera.
Some of them have been coming to the campground every summer for as long as I can remember. They dole out hugs when they first see me and tell me how “grown-up” I look. Then they focus on Landon’s camera, detailing every stop they’ve made from the moment they pulled out of our campground at the end of last summer to the day they returned. Not only does Landon not mind, but he nods as they talk, giving them his full attention.
I’m standing here, most of the flyers distributed, listening to Mr. Pent tell us about the alligator they found underneath their Class A motorhome while they were snow-birding in Florida, when Bark spots a squirrel.
“No!” I yell as Bark pulls a canine version of Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde and rips from my grasp, running down the camp road, chasing after the bushy-tailed rodent that’s barely evading him. “Bark!”
I take off after him, flyers flying behind me, desperate to catch Hallie Hendrick’s beloved dog. Even at his age, he’s crazy fast.
Landon’s right behind me, and then he passes me completely, far quicker than I am since I’m in flip-flops. We race through the campground, through A Loop, through the thick brush to B Loop, and then the squirrel finally darts up a pine tree and disappears.
Bark stops under the tree, leaping three feet into the air, trying to find a way up.
I slow to a walk as soon as Landon grabs the dog’s leash and set my hands on my hips, gulping precious air. Apparently, I need to get more exercise.
“Thank you,” I say to Landon as I attempt to catch my breath.
Like an angel, Bark forgets about the squirrel, plops onto his haunches, and wags his tail, practically saying, “Aren’t I a good boy?”
“You’re rotten,” I inform him.
His tongue lolls out, and his tail wags faster.
“You’re all scratched up,” Landon informs me, nodding to my legs.
I glance down and find several minor white scratches along with a long one that’s oozing blood. “Oh, yuck. I must have caught myself in the bushes.”
“Come on.” Landon’s already walking toward the office. “Let’s drop off the mighty squirrel hunter with your mom, and I’ll fix you up.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in Landon’s camper, and he’s digging through the overhead cupboards while I try not to bleed on his mother’s cushions.
“Where’s your family?” I ask, eyeing the white cat as she comes out of her hiding place so she can study me from the table. When I attempt to pet her, she steps just far enough away I can’t reach her and continues to stare.
“They took the dogs on a hike.” Landon comes to the cupboard directly above me and rummages through it.
“And why aren’t you hiking?” I ask, looking down so I’m not staring at his stomach.
Finding what he’s looking for, he kneels in front of me, first aid kit in his hand. “Because I’m with you.”
Butterflies flutter, but I ignore them. It’s just a side effect of being around Landon.
“You ready for this?” he asks as he opens an antiseptic wipe. “I don’t know what brand these are, but they sting like no other.”
Before I have a chance to answer, Landon dabs the wipe along the long, deep cut. I suck in a hiss, laughing at the same time.
“Told you.” His gaze meets mine, and even though he’s not smiling, his eyes are.
“You have pretty eyes,” I say out of nowhere. Instantly, I wish I could take it back.
Because I’m watching him so closely, I see the way those aforementioned eyes widen with surprise and then scrunch with amusement. “Pretty, huh?”
I feel the all-familiar blush heating my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
