Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Charlotte: So, in the middle of nowhere? Where are you staying? Last time I drove through that area, it was all farmland and a sketchy-looking casino that looked like a good place to get murdered.
Makena: OMG, that’s the same thing Parker said! Yeah, totally a place to go if you’re looking to get murdered. That’s why we’re going to camp the first night instead of getting a room at the casino.
Charlotte: CAMP!! AFTER ALL YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH? ARE YOU INSANE?
Makena: I love camping!
Charlotte: In a Louisiana summer? I would rather die. Seriously. I think death would be preferable. Forget enduring the heat and the bugs and the heat and the bugs and the heat and just go straight to a knife to the throat.
Makena: We bought mosquito netting and tons of bug spray. And the temp’s supposed to drop to seventy-two overnight. We’ll be fine.
Charlotte: Ew. No. Gross. This is why God, in all her wisdom, made the indoors. And air conditioning. What about snakes? Have you thought about snakes?
Makena: We’re going to sleep in the back of Parker’s truck on an air mattress, with a little camping thing on top. Totally posh and off the ground, far away from the snakes. And if spending our first night camping in a field full of drunk crawfish enthusiasts snoring off a Hurricane Hangover doesn’t kill the vibe once and for all, nothing will.
Charlotte: Ah, I see. Clever girl.
Makena: Thank you.
Charlotte: And what if it doesn’t kill the vibe? What are you going to do then?
Makena: Well, we MAY have a nice hotel booked for the next night…
With a hot tub on the balcony…
Which reminds me, Parker says you should feel free to use the hot tub and come sleep in the guest room, if you want, and anything else you need. I just asked him and, as I thought, he’s totally cool. We’ll leave the keys for you in the mailbox, and I’ll put clean sheets on the guest bed before I leave, just in case.
Charlotte: Well, tell Parker thank you very much. I’ll probably tough it out at my place, but I’ll definitely take you guys up on the hot tub offer. I hope you have a good trip, honey. And remember, there’s no shame in realizing you flew too close to the camping sun and booking a backup hotel. There IS a backup hotel, right? Somewhere? Aside from the Murder Casino?
Makena: We’ll be fine. Good luck with the renovations. I’ll check in with you in a few days to see how you and the plants are getting along.
Charlotte: Sounds good. Have fun. And be careful. Remember, water moccasin venom kills.
Makena: Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.
Chapter
Twelve
PARKER
We leave at dawn with the windows down and Willie Nelson on the radio, which feels right. I love Willie. He’s the laid-back, music-making, live-and-let-live Weed Grandpa the world needs right now.
Makena agrees, a fact she’s currently proving by singing along—badly.
Mercifully, when “On the Road Again” gives way to some vintage Patsy Cline, she reaches into the picnic basket between us to play breakfast fairy.
“We have gluten-free rosemary honey breakfast biscuits, protein smoothie in the thermos, and homemade peanut butter granola globs,” she announces. “Pick your poison.”
“Granola globs?”
“They were supposed to be bites, but they ended up oozier than expected. Probably the peanut butter. I’ll leave them on the cookie sheet longer next time before I cut them into squares. But I’m not going to turn my nose up at something yummy just because it’s a little globby.”
“Same.” I nod. “I’ll start with a glob, then smoothie, then seven or eight of those biscuits.”
She laughs. “You can have five. I made six, but I want one. I’m getting pretty good with the gluten-free stuff, if I do say so myself.”
“You are,” I agree. “My girls down at my favorite bakery are probably wondering if I died. I haven’t been in all week. Don’t tell them, but you’re a better gluten-free chef than Minnie already.”
“Why, thank you.” Makena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she adds with mock humbleness, “I mean, I studied baking in Paris, but…I don’t like to brag.”
I laugh and she joins in, making the morning sun feel brighter. Once she’s globbed me up and has her biscuit in hand, she adds, “But talking about gluten-free stuff reminds me. Where’s your EpiPen? I figured I should know. Just in case you accidentally eat something contaminated with gluten at the festival and start to die or something.”
“Aw,” I say, batting my lashes her way. “That’s so sweet.”
She rolls her eyes. “That I don’t want you to die? Yeah, so sweet. A real base-level of human caring there, buddy.”
I shake my head, grinning around my first bite of granola. “Nope, you want to be my hero. And save my life.”