Chapter 20
W ith only two more days left of her vacation, Lauren slipped on her swimsuit. She hadn't gone swimming since arriving at Bitterroot Mountain Range Campground.
There was no mirror in the cabin, in the restrooms, or in the shower facilities.
Besides using her small compact to apply makeup, she hadn't seen what she looked like in almost a month.
It was liberating not to worry about which outfit she was wearing or all the people online who liked to judge her for her size.
She propped her phone on the counter, using a box of Wheat Thins to support the device, and took a selfie. She studied the image and curled her lip. Usually, she accepted the shape of her body, but swimsuits hid nothing.
Digging in her suitcase, she found a loose cotton dress to throw over it for her walk to the water. The hem brushed her knees as she stepped out of the cabin. She wrapped a towel around her shoulders and started down the trail toward the lake.
She only had an hour before sunset.
Two days left to squeeze in everything she'd set out to do this summer.
The thought that she'd give it all up to spend more time with Mac gave her the blues. It was an impossible situation.
As she rounded a bend in the trail, she spotted Jetter lying flat on his stomach in the dirt, elbows propped, talking quietly to the ground. She wanted to laugh at the sight of him. He was adorable. She couldn't imagine what sort of trouble he was getting into now.
She slowed, careful not to startle him. "Hey," she said softly. "What are you doing?"
Jetter scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his shirt. When he saw it was her, his shoulders relaxed. "Promise not to tell?"
"Unless you're in danger, I promise," she said.
"I'm trying to get the prairie dog to come out of the hole."
Lauren stepped closer, crouching beside him. "Prairie dog?"
He pointed to a small hole in the dirt. "He lives in there. He's got a whole town of tunnels under the ground. I've been able to lure him to the surface three times this week."
"No kidding," she murmured.
He held out a handful of nuts. "My dad doesn't like me feeding them."
"Why not?"
"They can have lots of babies." He frowned. "Then, there are holes all over. Dad's afraid one of the campers will break a leg if there are too many holes."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you feed them?"
Jetter grinned and whispered, "Watch."
He set up a trail of nuts from the hole, stretching out about three feet. Then he motioned for her to stay still and quiet.
They waited.
The minutes stretched, the air cooling around them, the light softening into gold as the trees filtered the setting sun. She wanted to stand and stretch her legs, but was afraid of moving and disappointing Jetter.
Then, the prairie dog emerged.
It was small, twitchy, with bright eyes and a tail that flicked like it had somewhere to go.
It looked like a squirrel to Lauren, but bigger and not as frantic.
It sat up on its butt, looking around, and then dropped to all four to sniff the first nut, then the next, inching forward until it reached the end of the trail.
Then, just as quickly, it darted back into the hole.
Lauren smiled. "You're right. That was adorable."
Jetter looked proud. "He's getting used to me. I want to get him to eat the nuts from my hand."
"Oh, I don't know. What if it bites you?" She straightened.
He turned to her, suddenly serious. "Are you gonna tell my dad?"
She thought about it, then shook her head. "No. But I'm leaving in two days, so be careful."
Jetter's face fell. "I wish you could stay the rest of the summer."
She reached out and brushed a pine needle from his hair. "I have work to do. But I'll miss you too. You were the highlight of my vacation. You saved me from a bear, and that's a story I'll tell everyone."
They sat in silence for a moment, the prairie dog hole quiet again, the sky deepening into dusk. She stroked Jetter's hair, pushing back the strands off his forehead.
"I'd better go. I wanted to swim before it gets too dark," she whispered.
"Watch out for Ol' Hookjaw." He scrambled to his feet.
"Ol' Hookjaw?"
"The old fish in the lake." Jetter held out his arms to his side. "He's this big. He's got one eye and a hook through the bottom of his mouth."
She shivered. "You're kidding?"
"No." Jetter's eyebrows shot up. "My grandpa caught him once, but Ol' Hookjaw broke his line and stole his lucky hook.
Even Beckett can't catch him. The fish is that fast. He lives deep in the middle of the water, where it's icy cold.
Once the sun goes down, Ol' Hookjaw patrols the edge of the lake, looking for toes to bite. "
"Oh, God." She swallowed. "I'll make sure not to swim after dark."
"That would be smart." Jetter, sounding so much like his dad at that moment, waved as he ran backward, away from her. "See you tomorrow."
By the time she reached the lake, the sun was low, casting orange streaks across the water. No one was there. The dock stretched out like a path to nowhere.
She wasn't sure about swimming now that Jetter freaked her out about Ol' Hookjaw. Instead, she walked to the end of the dock and sat down. Not wanting to put her feet in the water in case a fish nibbled her toes, she crossed her legs and enjoyed the dock swaying gently beneath her.
The water gently lapped against the wood. In the distance, a hawk cried out. She should have come out earlier, but she wasn't in the mood to dodge families and teenagers. The idea of a peaceful float in the cool water had sounded perfect, but now that she was alone, she chickened out.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The dock rocked side to side with heavy footsteps.
She looked over her shoulder and exhaled in relief. It was Mac.