Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

“This … is … awesome,” she says, her voice vibrating with the movements of the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

I maneuver the truck through the last bit of mud and coast up the other side.

Adrenaline races through my veins. I’m not sure if it’s from the mudding or because Dylan is beside me. … In the mud.

She unlatches her belt and spins to face me. “That was so much fun,” she says. “What is that called?”

“Um, mudding,” I say. “That was mudding.”

“Mudding. Right. Can we do it again?”

“It’s not as fun going back from this side,” I tell her.

“But wouldn’t it be the same thing?”

I flash her a look. “No, you wannabe country girl. The ruts ride differently. Take it from this side and get stuck out there. Sound fun?”

“Maybe?” She winces. “Yeah. Kind of.”

I laugh. “Okay. How does calling Machlan and Walker to come get us out sound?”

She makes a face like she sucked on a lemon.

“Exactly,” I say. “So grab the paper towels under your seat and lets clean off the glass.”

“Um, what?”

“How else are we gonna see to get home?”

She gives me a strangled laugh. “Um, I don’t know, but that’s a lot of mud.”

“Yup.” I hold out my hand. “Towels, please.”

She digs under her seat and finds a roll of paper towels. They land in my palm. I crack open my door to see her still sitting in her seat.

“Hey. You gotta help,” I tease.

“But …”

I raise a brow.

“Fine,” she huffs playfully.

We climb out of the truck. Soft dirt that’s not quite mud squishes under my boots. On the other side, Dylan groans.

I head to the front when a set of bright red and blue flashing lights ripple across the field. Kip, the county sheriff and a distant cousin, gets out of his car.

Dylan races as fast as she can around the front of the truck. She grabs my hand and stands beside me.

Her breath comes out in quick rushes as she watches Kip walk closer.

“What are you two kids doing out here tonight?” he asks.

He damn well knows the answer. Hell, he probably saw me pass by Goodman’s Gas Station on the way here and followed me. Fucker.

“Oh, I don’t know, Officer,” I say. “Just looking for a picnic spot.”

“Peck,” Dylan hisses. She takes a deep breath. “We’re sorry, Officer. We didn’t know we weren’t supposed to be out here.”

Kip eyes me curiously. He’s amused, and that only means this is going to get interesting. Except for the fact that I know he won’t haul us in. Not for this. He would’ve over those gas cans from Tad—if he could catch me—but he won’t from hauling my truck through the mud. He’s been through that hole as many times as I have over the years.

“I didn’t say you weren’t supposed to be out here,” he says.

“Oh.” She looks at me. “Well, we didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”

Kip lowers his chin. “The first indication of someone doing something wrong is them telling you they aren’t. Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on out here, or do you want me to give you a ride to the pokey?”

The pokey? I start to laugh, but a warning shot is sent my way from Kip, so I choke it back.

“Sir, Officer, I can’t go to jail. Not over this.” Dylan looks up at me. “You said this was safe.”

I shrug, still not one hundred percent sure what Kip is up to. But I’m willing to play along.

“Damn it, Peck,” she says.

“What? I didn’t do anything wrong,” I insist.

“Clearly, something is wrong, or this nice officer wouldn’t be out here messing with us.” She bats her eyelashes at Kip. “Right?”

“Is that true, you little nice officer?” I ask.

She rams her elbow into my ribs, making me yelp. Kip tries to hold a steady face but loses control.

“I had you going, didn’t I?” he says with a laugh.

Dylan’s jaw drops.

“I couldn’t figure out what the hell you were doing,” I say. “What’s up, Kip?”

“Not much. I had a report of vandalism on the cabin on the East side. I saw the headlights back here, and thought I’d see what was happening.”

“Wait?” Dylan says. “You two know each other?”

“Cousins,” we say at the same time.

“That figures.” She grits her teeth, but her eyes shine. “You both are assholes.”

“Did ya think I was taking you in?” Kip asks.

“To the pokey?” I tease.

She turns away. I look back at Kip when a handful of mud slams into the side of my face.

“You’re on your own now,” Kip says and runs back to his car.

I head to the driver’s side of the truck and load my palm with mud.

Blood soars past my ears as I anticipate Dylan’s next move. The mud squishes as she tries to sneak up on me from behind. I crouch next to the tire and wait for her pretty little head to pop around the tailgate.