Two Crazy, One Wild by Shaye Marlow

Author:Shaye Marlow [Marlow, Shaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Igneous Publishing
Published: 2017-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

“What’s going on?” Rory asked, watching Frances pile clothes and other personal affects onto her bed. He’d come home soon after Helly had dropped us off.

“She says she’s leaving.”

“Huh.” Rory turned to me, his eyes lighting up. “Did you see that catapult test?”

“Yeah, I saw it, but I don’t have time to talk now,” I said, moving toward Frances. “Hey, I’m serious. Whatever’s bothering you, I’ll fix it.”

She thumped a suitcase down on her bed. “Besides the fact that there’s now no plane and thus no point? The gas. Before, I was thinking we could just fly in and buy some, but we won’t be doing that anytime soon, will we?”

“What do you mean, no plane?” Rory asked.

“I’ll go get some gas right now if you swear you’ll be here when I get back,” I said.

Frances looked mutinous. “How long you think that’ll take?”

“Half an hour.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine, I’ll wait. Better hurry.”

I was dashing out the door before she finished talking. I leapt down the steps and snagged a couple five-gallon gas tanks from the shed. Then I ran next door.

I let myself into the Birch Chalets main building and caught the nearest person that looked like they worked there. “I need to talk to Lane, please.” Hers was a face I didn’t recognize, and so the reason she went and got her boss was probably because she didn’t know me.

Lane came clattering down the stairs, then slowed when she saw who it was. “Damn it, Zack.”

“Listen, I need some gas. I’ll give you whatever you want to fill these, anything. I’ll barter. I’ll build you a shed, I don’t care.”

Lane paused a few feet from me, her gaze sweeping from my rumpled shirt down to my damp and muddy pants, neither of which I’d had the opportunity to change after we’d crashed the plane in the marsh.

Hope blossomed when she didn’t dismiss me out-of-hand. “That runway behind your place,” she said. “I want it extended so that it runs behind my place, too, and I want the right to use it.”

I nearly choked. “Do you have any idea what Manny’s charging per hour?”

She shrugged. “You said ‘anything’.”

Fuuuuck. If I’d had a hand free, I’d’ve run it down my face. “Fine,” I growled, “but I have an additional term. You consider Rory and I as having a clean slate. We haven’t said or done any stupid shit, and it’s only by future actions that you will judge us. And that means, if we were to call tomorrow saying we were making hot dogs, and we were wondering if you had any ketchup, you would say—”

“If you want a clean slate, you really need to put a lid on the screaming,” she said. “My guests have been complaining.”

“Actually, the screamer left, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Even so, you’re probably just gonna screw this up within the week. You and Rory are a pair of thirty-year-old children.” Coming from a woman that beautiful—Lane was a dead ringer for Jessica Rabbit—it stung.

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