A bunch of campers gawked at me from the ground.
I didn’t have time to let it bother me.
“Let June drive you.”
“She’s running the office today.”
“What about Hailey?”
“She’s leading a hike after lunch.”
“Cory?”
“You’d never get him away from his fish.”
“My buddy Tucker. He knows you, right?”
“Ha!” She laughed bitterly. “I’m fine, okay? Why’re you so worried about it?”
My chest tightened, my heart freezing as the rolled SUV tumbled through my mind. “It’s a hundred and four out. And, you’re shaking. Look at you.” I pointed to her legs, trembling like leaves in a windstorm. Her dry lips were another cause for concern. “And you’re dehydrated.”
She glanced down, cleared her throat, and lifted her chin. “I’m just super hungry and tired, and I can rehydrate here. I’m sure it’ll wear off.”
So, Miss America was bullheaded beyond belief. Guess what? She just met her match. I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder in the fireman’s hold and she shrieked. A bunch of campers watched as I limped my way toward my red Chevy pickup.
Three
-LAUREN-
Hot fabric met my back as Carter plopped me down inside the cab of his blazing truck. The heat trapped inside was nowhere near better than standing in the sun earlier. I sat up, grunting as he closed the door and moved to the driver’s side. I halfway thought about opening it and running, but almost passing out was actually the perfect excuse to see a doctor in the valley, and I had to know if I was pregnant or not.
Please make the test negative, God.
I mean—there was a chance I just had whatever Hailey was sick with.
And the idea of spending alone time with Carter didn’t suck.
Stop it. This is just a ride to the valley.
Carter climbed in shaking his head as he turned the key. “Anyone ever told you you’re stubborn?”
I barked a laugh as the engine roared to life, vibrating the floorboards and traveling through the souls of my shoes. “Never.” I rested my head back against the seat. My stomach twisted, and my skin coated in chills again.
“I have a feeling you’re lying straight through those pretty white teeth.” He cranked the AC. “I’ll be right back.” I watched as he limped to the snack shop, and returned a few minutes later, carrying a few water bottles. He got back in and handed one to me. “Try and drink this. But, not too fast.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
He grinned, shifted the Chevy into reverse, and maneuvered his way out of the lot.
I took a sip. The chilled water soothed my throat and the cold condensation dripping between my fingers brought a wave of relief.
“You really don’t need to drive me, Carter.”
“I don’t do things that don’t need to be done.” His gray-blue eyes caught on mine and he lifted a shoulder. “Besides if whatever’s going on with you is more serious than heat exhaustion and I didn’t help when I could have—that would kill me.”
I bit my lip. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking baby thoughts.
“The boathouse can’t afford to lose you.”
He shrugged. “Tucker was in the Snack Shop when I got your water. I asked him to call Cory in for backup. He’s a jack of all trades.”
“You could get a write-up.”
“Yup.”
I flipped the visor down to block the sun.
A hot pale-faced mess stared back at me. What little mascara I’d put on this morning was smudged all around my eyes and my ponytail was frizzing out and super lopsided.
“Amazing,” I muttered, releasing my hair and running my fingers through to tame the wild. I poured some water onto a tissue to try to clean up the mascara and smooth down my eyebrows.
I huffed a breath and turned my focus to the winding road. Carter cracked his window and messed with the radio. Country music played through the speakers taking me straight back to truck rides with my dad.
A faint cord pulled inside my chest.
“So you’re a country boy?” I asked.
His white tank popped against his defined, tanned shoulders. I wasn’t usually the man bun kind of girl, but with those sharp cheekbones, that straight nose, and the beard—I could total picture him in leather armor and a bullhorn helmet. Ooh, and tattoos. Amazingly. Gorgeous. Viking!
Lauren, stop it!
He grinned, those blue eyes crinkling again. “Depends on your definition. I don’t wear cowboy boots if that’s what you’re asking.”
Cowboy boots.
He could pull it off if he wanted to. He’d actually be the perfect model for a country photoshoot. I could picture it now, Carter in Wranglers and a button down flannel shirt, with cowboy boots, and a hat. Give him a piece of sweetgrass to chew on and call him a country heartbreaker. . .
Get it together, Lauren.
“So, kind of country?” I asked.
“Sure. You?”
I lifted the tip of my ponytail to my sights, pulling the split ends off. “I can get behind a pair of cute cowgirl boots.”
“You?” He chuckled. “Cowgirl boots?”
“What?”
“Just surprised.” He shrugged. “I don’t take you for a cowgirl at all. But you fish like nobody’s business, so maybe I’m off.”
“You’re not off. Fashion’s my thing. I went through a big country phase in high school. Jean jackets. Summer dresses. Cowgirl boots. A hat. Everything.”
“I bet it looked good on you.”
“That’s what all the boys said.”
“I’m guessing self-esteem’s a real struggle for you.”
“Totally.”
A prick of joy swelled in my heart and I couldn’t contain it. I busted up laughing. Carter laughed too, in that deep and calming tone. A stitch of pain shot through my skull, and my stomach churned, my palms slicking like I was about to go in for an interview, or something. I closed my eyes, putting pressure on my temples. “Don’t make me laugh. I have the worst headache ever.”
“Dehydration does that. Drink.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” I downed the rest of my water. My stomach growled, reminding me I still hadn’t
