Page 8 of Picture This

Yet our camping party was exactly four. Emily and Luca. Jake and me.

Our host for this glamping nightmare, a guy named Mark, had assumed Jake and I were a couple. He’d apologized for setting up one too many tents.

I’d made sure to correct him in front of everyone, including Emily, that I was definitely not sharing a bed with Jake.

Where the hell were Luca’s other friends? Or Emily’s? She’d said there was a group, but I should have pressed for an attendee list. Why hadn’t they invited any of the married couples who’d flown to Montana for the weekend?

My best friend and I were going to have a serious discussion about her matchmaking attempts when she was done setting up her and Luca’s tent.

“Can I get you a drink, Delylah?” Mark asked, motioning to a cooler he’d brought up.

“No, thanks.” It came out snappier than I’d intended.

He dipped his chin and backed away slowly, like I was a wild animal he didn’t want to provoke.

Mark had just graduated from high school in Big Timber and was working at the resort for the summer to save money for college. It was the same job Noah had gotten when he was eighteen and working at the ranch.

If I begged Mark for the keys to the SUV, would he let me go back to the lodge?

It wasn’t that far of a hike. If I left now, I’d be back by midafternoon. All I needed was a can of bear spray and a bottle of water. Maybe I could find Noah and have another beer. Do something to turn this day around.

My morning hadn’t started out bad. After a lovely breakfast in the dining room, I’d met Emily and Luca in the lobby, my holey backpack loaded with sweats and my toiletries.

I was wearing tennis shoes, a pair of cutoff denim shorts, and a tank top with a chambray button-down over the top so I would be comfortable but wouldn’t risk a sunburn if we went hiking. My maid of honor gown was strapless, and my self-tanner nearly perfect—a feat considering it wasn’t easy to apply when you lived alone.

I’d been taking a few candid shots of Emily and Luca when Jake had sauntered into the lobby, thirty minutes late. That’s when things had started to go downhill.

He was clearly hungover this morning but trying to hide his bloodshot eyes with sunglasses. His hair was damp from a shower, but he reeked of old booze.

It wasn’t until we’d pulled away and no one else had fallen into our caravan that I’d started to panic. When I’d asked Emily if the rest of our camping party was joining us later, she’d informed me that no one else had wanted to come along.

Any other weekend and I’d call her on that blatant lie. Instead, I was biting my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

“Isn’t this so fun?” Emily breezed out of her and Luca’s tent, a glass of champagne in one hand, her phone in the other. She came to stand beside me, pulling up her camera for a selfie, fitting us in the screen. “Smile.”

I stuck out my tongue.

She scoffed. “Delylah.”

“You know I hate selfies.” But I faked a smile anyway so she’d leave me alone.

“What are we doing?” Luca came out of the tent, sipping his own glass of champagne.

Emily sat in one of the nearby chairs. “This. Camping.”

He raised his sunglasses off his nose. “We just sit around?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Unless you want to go for a hike.”

“Pass.” He took another chair, digging his phone from his pocket, glaring at the screen. “I don’t have service.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, sweetie,” Emily said. “That’s why we came up here. To disconnect.”

He frowned and set his phone on the arm of his chair, then downed the rest of his champagne.

“You look like you need something stronger.” Jake came out of his tent and held up a bottle of bourbon, flashing me a smile as he took a seat beside Luca. “Del, are you getting in on this?”

“Delylah,” I corrected, my nostrils flaring. “And no. I’m not much for getting drunk at ten in the morning.”