"A trek?" His eyes flick anxiously to me. "Define trek."
Oh man, it's a long trek, but I won't tell him that just yet. He's likely to turn around. "It's close—don't worry," I lie.
We get to the bottom of the hill, and the road goes into a fork. A lake is straight ahead, and the sunlight is just beginning to fade. I smile in excitement. "Turn right." He carefully turns right, and we go along a little bit. "Should be just up here."
"Where?" He frowns.
"Just park anywhere."
"What do you mean?" His eyes came over to me.
"We just set up where we want."
"What, like"—he screws up his face as he looks around—"on the dirt?"
I laugh. "Were you expecting an oak parquetry floor?"
He rolls his eyes and parks the truck, and I get out and walk up and down the water's edge. "What are you doing?"
