Page 14 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

"All ready!" Goldie pranced out of her house, the screen door slapping behind her. She hadn't changed but added square sunglasses that were so dark I couldn't see her eyes and so big she wouldn't need sunscreen on her face. "I'm so excited. At first, I thought this was going to be a dull trip, but it's shaped up into something fun!"

I'd never seen Goldie so perky before. It was as if she'd had three cups of coffee and an energy drink since we saw her anhour ago. Calm Goldie was frightening enough. I had no idea what she'd come up with if her mind moved any faster.

"I'm ready GG," a voice called from inside. "I went pee just like you said. And here's my pee bottle!"

A boy of about seven or eight came barreling out Goldie's front door. In one hand he had an empty soda bottle, clearly his emergency pee container, and in the other a—what the hell was that?

"Hi, Aunt Velma," he cried, running over to give her legs a hug. He wasn't a small child, but Velma was like Hagrid fromHarry Potterin comparison. Getting a closer look, I saw that in his hand was a ceramic garden gnome. Little red jacket, pointy blue hat, big cheeky grin. Why he carried it, I had no idea.

"Great, Zach, hop on in and find a spot with a seatbelt and buckle up."

For the first time, I think JT and I had similar expressions. Complete confusion. I leaned my head toward Aunt Velma. "Um, why is that kid going with us?" I whispered.

"That's Zach, Goldie's grandson. He's got a friend in Billings and we're going to take him over there and leave him. His mom, you know Jane West, will get him tomorrow. I told them to go to the Olive Garden. I love that restaurant. All you can eat breadsticks and salad. Pity Billings has the closest one."

I tried to keep up, but I had to admit, I got hungry when she mentioned breadsticks. "So two hours with a kid?" I asked. I knew Jane, sort of. The last time I'd seen Zach he was toddling around, so it had definitely been awhile.

I had nothing against this kid specifically, but I wasn't good with them in general. My little kid days with my parents were just blurry images in my head and Aunt Velma had tried her best, but even though I had been one didn't mean I could be responsible enough for raising one without causing the poor kid serious mental issues.

Velma turned to look at me, disapproval on her face. "Daphne Lane. You don't like kids?"

"I do." Sort of. "Don't they always ask,Are we there yetover and over?"

Aunt Velma pursed her lips. "Well, that's true. But it's only two hours."

Right, only two hours. Gilligan and his crew went out for three-hour tour and never came back.

"Saddle up!" Goldie called, hopping into the RV.

JT hadn't said a word, hadn't gotten near us. I had a feeling he wanted to be anywhere on the planet besides riding in a metallic pickle with two borderline geriatric women, a woman he'd tased and a kid holding a garden gnome and a pee bottle. Climbing in and shutting the door behind him had to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

Even though he was a complete jerk, I sympathized because I felt just about the same way. Although, it was going to be pretty dang hard not to jump his bones with his fabulous scent filling the closed space for several hundred miles. It was possible the pheromones he pumped out would pull Goldie and Aunt Velma right out of menopause.

Goldie took the driver's seat, Aunt Velma claimed shotgun, with Zach sitting behind her in a chair I hadn't noticed before, which dropped from the wall like a jump seat for a flight attendant on an airplane. He was all buckled in safely and the three of them were gabbing away.

JT and I sat on the bench seats further back, me behind the small table, he, with his legs stretched out, across from me. "You know this is all your fault," he said bitterly.

"Me?"

"You ran over my motorcycle." He crossed his arms over his chest.

I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the table. "You made me miss my plane. If you had just let me go, I'd be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right now, and I wouldn't have hit your flipping motorcycle. And I wouldn't be riding in this RV either."

I had a point and by the hard set of his jaw, he knew it. "It's still your fault."

I rolled my eyes as I tucked my ear buds in, hoping to drown him out with music from my cell phone.

Once we got on the interstate, we started to make progress, but very slowly. The pickle couldn't handle the hills on the east side of town, and we had to cross Bozeman Pass to get out of the Gallatin Valley. We were going so slow even a combine passed us in the left lane.

I, of course, made no mention of this since it wouldn't help us go any faster, so I pulled out my e-reader and buried my nose behind it, pretending to enjoy a book.

"Jesus, I could walk up this hill faster," JT grumbled, loud enough I could hear it over my music.

A truer statement had never been said. Even me, who only ran when chased by an axe-wielding murderer, could have scaled the steep highway faster. It was almost impossible to be patient when my life was moving forward at twenty miles an hour.

By the time we started our descent at the top of the pass, I really had gotten into my book and only looked up when we were slowing at the end of an exit ramp.

"Why are we getting off the highway?" I called forward.