The Bride's Runaway Billionaire (Three BFFs and a Wedding Book 3) by Pippa Grant

Author:Pippa Grant [Grant, Pippa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

27

Jonas

The guys don’t let me starve.

And none of us catch fish.

Pretty sure they knew that would happen. They pull a cooler out of the truck and produce packets of dehydrated backpacking meals once we get back from our trek to a stream-fed pond not far from camp.

Pretty pond, but the fish weren’t biting. And we stayed until I was good and pink on my arms.

Might need better sunscreen at this elevation. Probably should’ve asked Emma what she uses.

Not sure what I can use to help my tongue, though.

And I’m not talking about the heat from the water that Grey boiled with a fancy miniature propane stove and that they used to rehydrate the meals in their own pouches.

“Good, isn’t it?” Theo’s lounging in a camp chair, slouched low, legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles. There’s a water bottle in his armrest cupholder, and he’s chowing down on a packet of rehydrated pad thai.

Grey sits taller in his chair, one ankle propped over a knee, slowly sipping off a can of kombucha while enjoying his packet of red beans and rice.

“Nevah had cam foo like dis,” I reply. I’m working on a packet of jambalaya, and my mouth is on fire.

Fire.

I like spicy food, but I’m starting to wonder if they doctored mine with extra hot sauce when I wasn’t looking.

I can’t feel my tongue.

I can’t feel my teeth.

I can’t feel my gums or my throat.

“Was your camp food usually catered?” Theo asks.

“Don’t knock catered camp food,” Grey says. “It gives you fancier constipation.”

I’d laugh, but my tongue might be swelling. I glance at the package again as I reach for my own kombucha.

Salty Marvin’s Fire In The Hole.

That’s the brand.

And I picked it.

And when Theo said, you sure?, I doubled down.

I’m an idiot.

No doubt my two hosts are well aware.

Neither of them have Salty Marvin’s meals. They both have different brands.

“You go to camp when you were a kid, Jonas?” Theo asks.

“Dee-ah—ahem. Theatah cam.” I guzzle more kombucha. Not helping. It might actually be like gasoline to the fire that is my dinner. “Yeah. Catah-ed mees. You?”

Jesus. This is embarrassing.

I can’t even talk.

I understand myself less than I understand Bash, and I know what I’m trying to say.

“Made my own summer camp. Grey?”

“Summer camp is the only academic program I was ever kicked out of.”

Theo does a double take, then starts to grin. “Gonna need the rest of this story.”

“Can’t.”

“What, you have an NDA?”

“Nope. Forgot about it until just now, and I haven’t told Sabrina the story yet. She gets it first.”

“I won’t tell her if you tell us first.”

“Yes, you will.”

Theo grins again—definitely agreeing with that sentiment—and looks at me. “What about you? You ever get kicked out of theater camp?”

I shake my head.

Sweat is beading at my forehead thick enough to drip into my eyebrows.

“Okay there?” Grey asks me.

“Not eading undil you sweadin.” Is that a line I said once in a script for a movie where a very similar situation played out? Not eating until you’re sweating.

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