Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Griffin
Piper has absolutely no intention of helping.
None.
I’m hauling gear out of the trunk like a pack mule, and she’s sitting sideways in the passenger seat, legs crossed, her yellow dress glittering in the sun, applying glitter and rhinestones to her cheekbones as if she’s getting ready for battle.
The glitter, apparently, is more important than the shelter that keeps us alive.
“Pipes,” I say, wrestling the tent bag out from under her shopping haul. “You planning to help anytime soon?”
She doesn’t look up. “I am helping.”
“By bedazzling your face?”
“Yes.” She taps her cheek with the tiny stick-on star.
I stare at her. She continues without remorse.
“Also, I don’t trust myself with poles. You saw me at the fair. I get competitive, and things break.”
I snort and drop the tent with a thud. “Pretty sure glitter won’t keep the rain out.”
She waves a hand, showering the air with sparkle.
Jesus Christ.
I don’t even bother arguing. I unzip the tent bag and start laying everything out.
Behind me, I hear Piper humming to herself.
I glance back. She’s now added tiny gold stars above her eyebrows.
The woman is glowing like a disco ball.
“You done?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I’m making art.”
“You look like someone blew up a craft store.”
She beams. “Thank you.”
I turn back to the tent and begin threading poles through the fabric. The wind chooses that moment to pick up, which immediately makes this a two-person job.
“Piper.”
No response.
“Piper.”
Still nothing.
“Piper!”
She jumps like I fired a gun. “What?”
“Hold this,” I tell her, handing her the end of the pole.
She accepts it delicately between two glitter-coated fingers. “I don’t trust the pole.”
“You’ll live. Just hold it still.”
She does. Mostly. I manage to thread the last pole, shove it into place, and push the tent upright.
“Okay,” I say. “Stake time.”
“What kind of stake?” she teases. “Medium-rare?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Ground stakes.”
She smirks. She’s doing this on purpose.
“Grab the little metal ones.”
Rummaging in the tent back, she pulls something out and holds it up triumphantly.
I arch a brow at her. “A for effort.”
She blinks. “Is that not a stake?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She tosses it aside and digs again. “I’m helping,” she insists.
“You’re trying. I’ll give you that.”
Eventually, she finds the stakes and hands them to me.
I hammer the first one in with a rock I find nearby.
Piper gasps mockingly, hand on her chest. “You’re using nature as a tool.”
“Yes.”
“Very caveman.”
I grunt in response.
“It’s extremely… primal.”
“Primal?”
“Yeah, like my ovaries are doing a tap dance. It’s very hot.”
I pause mid-swing. “You can’t say things like that right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to build you somewhere to sleep and not think about sex.”
She snorts. “Good luck with that.”
I hammer harder than necessary.
We work, and by work, I mean I work while Piper cheers enthusiastically from her glitter throne until the tent is finally secure.
I’m sweaty and already covered in grass and dirt.
Piper stands beside me, hands on her hips, surveying our campsite proudly.
“It’s crooked,” she announces.
“Don’t you start,” I warn, poking her ribs playfully.
She smirks again. “I’m just saying.”
“It’s a tent. Not a skyscraper.”
She squints and opens her mouth to say something, but I cut in.
“Piper.”
“Yes?”
“Stop insulting the tent. It did nothing to you.”
She grins and bumps her shoulder into mine. Glitter transfers across my shirt right before she lifts her hands and wipes the residue across my cheeks.
“My little princess,” she coos.
Before I can respond, she takes my phone out of my back pocket like a little pickpocket, opens the camera, and angles it toward us. “Smile.”
“No,” I say just to test her, because I enjoy her little tantrums.
She takes the picture anyway. My face is half-grimace, half-squint. Her face is pure sunbeams.
When she looks at the photo, a smile so warm spreads across her face that I find my own mouth matching it.
Her smile is contagious. It always has been.
I shake my head and drag a hand over my jaw.
She’s becoming dangerously addictive.
Her voice softens. “You really did all of this for me?”
I meet her eyes. “Yes.”
Then, a gust of wind hits.
The tent wobbles.
Piper gasps. “Save it!”
I sprint forward and grab the poles before the entire structure takes flight.
Piper shrieks behind me. “My glitter!”
“Your glitter isn’t the priority.”
“I worked hard on this face.”
“I worked hard on this tent.”
We fight the wind together, shouting, laughing, swearing. When the gust dies, we’re both bent over, catching our breath.
Piper wipes sweat from her forehead, leaving a streak of glitter behind. She looks ridiculous and radiant at the same time.
I grab a bigger rock and make sure it’s properly secured this time.
She nudges me again. “Thanks for putting up the tent.”
“Thanks for… supervising.”
She giggles, and damn it, it does something to me.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get inside before it collapses again.”
She crawls in first, glitter raining in her wake.
Then, with a tilt of her lips that I’m sure will kill me, she winks and says, “Let’s see where else we can put this glitter.”