Page 74 of Wrecked

God, I have no idea.

Looks like we’re going camping.

“You are so screwed.” Luke is standing by our open refrigerator, wearing last night’s clothes and drinking orange juice straight from the carton.

“There’s this invention called the glass. You might want to try it.” I’m packing our red cooler, placing ice packs in between the Ziploc containers that Dad and I prepared last night.

He releases his mouth from the carton and makes a lip-smacking sound. He puts the juice back in the fridge, closes the door and grins. “Camping with Adam?”

My eyes ignite in annoyance. “What did Emma tell you?”

I point a box of aluminum foil at him like it’s a sword. He just stands there and smiles, a devilish redheaded smile.

“Are there no secrets in this house?”

“You should have helped me get that motorcycle. Mom told me if I got one, she’d cut off my tuition payments.”

“You drive too fast as it is. A bike is the last thing you need.” I wrap a loaf of bread in the foil and put it in a tote bag. “S’mores!” I say out loud, just reminding myself that I wanted to pack the graham crackers and chocolate.

I go through my mental checklist of all the things I need to bring.

A car horn honks, and Luke leaves the room to head to the front door.

“Leah, the good officer’s here!” he shouts from the front door.

“Shit.” I scurry through the cooler and bags.

I need to hurry up before Luke says something stupid to Adam. I’m so frazzled that I drop a container of blueberries on the floor. Falling to my knees, I try to catch the ones that are rolling away, scattering across the tiled floor.

“You need help with that?” Adam slides his sunglasses onto his head and joins me on the floor. He’s wearing cargo shorts and a white T-shirt and smells like spice and suntan lotion.

We collect the berries, and when they’re all secure in their plastic container, we rise. With a slack mouth, he stares at the massive cooler and three tote bags I have packed for the trip.

“You volunteered to pack dinner, not all three meals.”

“When you see what Bob and I have prepared, you’ll be wishing you put me in charge of breakfast, too!” I grab the tote bags off the counter. “Come on, Muscles, carry the cooler.”

He lifts the cooler from the counter and walks it out of the kitchen. “You know, I thought taking the day off of working at the houses meant I wouldn’t have to do manual labor.”

I stop and turn around. “Are you okay with taking the day off? Every man who doesn’t show up is another day a family doesn’t get to go home.”

He takes a satisfied deep breath, and with a warm voice, he answers, “We all deserve a day off. Even the sinners.”

I drop the bags to my sides and tap my foot. “Am I the sinner in this situation?”

“You’re the saint. Now, let’s get in the truck. Our entourage awaits.”

I follow him out to the car. Jessica has already taken the front passenger seat. Rory and Suzanne are canoodling in the backseat.

On the sidewalk, I lean into Adam and ask, “Why are we taking one car again?”

He opens the trunk. “Rory won’t drive his car on the pebbled back roads. He doesn’t want to make a dent.”

“Says the guy whose family owns a body shop,” I say sarcastically, handing him the tote bags.

“That’s what I said,” Adam jokes back. “Jessica’s Wrangler has a tear in the canvas, so if it rained, we’d be screwed. Suzanne doesn’t drive, and someone still hasn’t gotten her car fixed.” He taps me on the nose and closes the trunk.

He walks to the front door, and I hop in the back with the lovebirds.