Page 148 of Camp Bliss
But instead of Josh standing where the LYFT and I left him, Russell is there. Nose to the ground.
Lapping up Josh’s puke.
“RUSSELL, NOOOOO!”
How is this my life?
I break into a run, and Russell decides to abandon his bounty as soon as I approach, but not before I get a whiff of bourbon-soaked barf.
Oh. My. God.
My two apple cider margaritas threaten to come up, but I choke back the urge just in time.
“Get over here,” I hiss at Russell, and the Corgi, ducking his head in expressed guilt, trots up to my heels.
Without exactly looking at him, I sense that Josh is sitting on the steps of the lodge. I could just aim for the shadows and escape to the fifth wheel, but the lodge doors are unlocked, and I’m not about to leave them that way.
As I approach the porch, I avert my gaze as much as I can, but his slumped shape is still in my periphery. I take a slow inhale, commanding myself to exude calm as I climb the steps, giving him no more attention than I would a speck of dirt.
He is inconsequential.
He is beneath my notice.
Just as I reach the door, he groans.
“Greta, I’m sssorry.”
I pretend I don’t hear becausereally?
REALLY???
I’m about to go inside without a word, but Russell, that puke-licking traitor, isn’t at my heels. He’s sniffing Josh’s slumped figure and wagging his faithless tail.
“Russell!” My tone is clipped and angry, and the dog jumps before scampering to me. We go inside, and I shut the lodge door behind me to make it clear I’m not to be followed. All I need to do is find my keys, lock up, and head to the fifth wheel.
That should take all of two minutes.
Two minutes, and then I’ll be safely ensconced in my little camper, and I can pretend like this never happened.
My keys are on the counter by the coffee pot. I scrape them up and look down at Russell. He sits at my feet, his tail wagging gently, amber eyes aimed up at me in adoration.
“Don’t give me that look. You know what you did.”
He opens his mouth to pant gently, but it looks like he’s giving me a canine grin.
I point at the door. “We’re going to go back out there, and neither one of us is going to interact with him. Is that clear?”
Russell whines.
I scowl. “I’m serious. If you want a bed to sleep in tonight, you will not so much as glance in his direction.”
The dog lifts his rump, turns, and gives a half-heartedboofover his shoulder,and then bounds to the door on his short, slow legs.
I roll my eyes and follow him. I turn off the lodge lights, leaving just the motion-activated front porch one that will shine on long enough for me to lock up and walk away.
Even though I try not to make any noise, the door creaks open, and Russell pants impatiently against the back of my calves.
“Stay,” I hiss-whisper and open the door.
