Hero had said he was a distraction, and he was damn right.
From now on, I was going to have to run the other way and hide if I saw him coming.
Hero was too handsome for his own good, and he knew it.
*
Hero
“Where did you go?”
I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. “You’re blocking the entrance to the strip mall, Mom. I went to make sure we weren't pissing everyone off.”
Mom pointed a finger into her chest. “I’m not blocking the road, Micha. That damn RV is.”
I rolled my eyes but only because she wouldn’t be able to see me do it. “You know what I mean. And, you and Meg are the ones who rented that bigass thing.”
“Cyn,” Meg called.
Mom raised her finger over her head. “Just one second, Meg,” she called. She turned her finger on me. “I know you rolled your eyes behind those sunglasses, Micha Scott. And we bought the RV. It was cheaper that way.”
My jaw dropped. That was news to me. “You and Dad becoming gray-haired roaming the country in a huge ass RV?”
She rolled her eyes and held up a large piece of her hair. “Does this look gray to you? I’m fifty-five, smartass, not one hundred.”
“Same difference?”
She slugged me in the arm. “It’s my own damn fault for making you such a smartass,” she grumbled.
“Growing up around the clubhouse might have had something to do with that, too.”
“Cyn!” Meg called again.
Mom closed her eyes and whispered, “For Pete’s sake. She’s been frantically going over this bigass checklist all morning. It’s like there aren’t stores and restaurants along the way or something.” She spun around. “What’s up?” she called cheerfully.
Meg beelined over with a clipboard in her hands. “The guys are almost done loading up the bikes. I tried to convince Lo to just leave them behind.”
Even I knew Meg had wasted her breath trying to convince King to leave his bike behind for weeks.
“He would have stolen Gravel’s the whole time, then,” Mom laughed.
Meg pursed her lips. “Accurate,” she mumbled. “Do you think we’re going to have enough chips?”
Mom grabbed the clipboard from her hands. She looked it over, pointed her finger at one of the handwritten items, and flipped it around to Meg. “Is that a twenty-six?” she asked her.
Meg squinted and nodded. “Yes.”
“So you have twenty-six bags of chips on that land yacht?” Mom asked.
Meg confirmed with a nod. “Yeah. I think we need a few more bags.”
Damn. That was an awful lot of chips. “You guys planning on eating only chips?” I chuckled.
Meg shook her head seriously. “No. I also have two weeks’ worth of groceries.”
Mom ripped the list off the clipboard. She tore the papers in half and then in half again. “You’re done.”
Meg’s jaw dropped.