Just my luck.
The little monster will probably spend the next eight hours running on his squeaky little wheel. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night. Probably the first of many, because no way can I relax knowing Gremlin could escape at any moment.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
Thirteen days to Santa Monica
It’s shaping up to be the perfect day. The sun is shining, my hair is on point, and it’s therealfirst day of my new life as a travel influencer. I’ve researched all the best hashtags, followed other travel influencers and brands—some of whom even followed back—and studied the trends.
I’ve got this.
Better still, I convinced Miles to drive yesterday by promising he could control the radio, which freed me up to work. By the time we pulled into Chicago last night, I’d paid all of his neglected bills, booked dinner reservations every Wednesday for the rest of the year, so all he has to do is pick a woman and tell her where to show up, and cleaned up his email, leaving it in a far more manageable state. That hotspot really is a godsend.
I should invest in one myself.
Right after I land a paying sponsor.
Nervous energy coils low in my belly, and insidious thoughts of failure slither to the surface.
What if this is a huge mistake?
No. I refuse to think that way.
Begin as you mean to go on.
I have no idea who said it originally, but I heard the phrase so often growing up that it’s become a key aspect of my personality.
Which is how I know I’ve done everything I can to ensure success. I’ve done my research. Made plans—and contingency plans. I have a strict budget for this trip. As long as I stick to it, money won’t be an issue.
Not yet, anyway.
Not for a while if I get my Triada bonus. The one I foolishly forfeited by resigning less than a week before the payout date.
Which is the exact opposite of cautious and thoughtful.
What can I say? Rage can make a girl go off brand.
I glance around the Airstream, pointedly skipping over Miles’s sleeping form. He’s curled up like a baby on the tiny couch, and even though we need to get going, I’m hesitant to wake him. He’s spent the last two nights tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, while I’m stretched out on my full-size bed.
Stay strong, Lucy.
Right. I just need to focus on something else, like finishing my morning chores.
I busy myself checking Gizmo’s water level. He squeaks with joy when I fill his food dish, so I toss in an almond while I’m at it.
After all, he deserves a treat for being such an excellent travel companion.
“Who’s a good boy?” I whisper, trailing a finger gently through his soft fur.
He squeaks again and scurries over to his food dish, where he immediately starts gnawing on the almond.
“What time is it?” Miles sits up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Time to rise and shine.”
He snorts. “Easier said than done when that little terror Gremlin is running on his squeaky wheel all night.”
