CHAPTER 9
Traipsing through parks, day or night, used to be a regular outing for us back when Kip was Director of Broward County Parks. Although I complained sometimes I had enjoyed it for the most part. Except that one time when we stumbled on a dead guy at the Renaissance Fair, that was awful. And that other time when Kip was kidnapped by a murderer and taken prisoner on a boat. Also that day in the Everglades, when I was convinced we would be eaten by an alligator. Other than that, good times.
But Kip wasn't working for the Parks Department anymore. He was currently unemployed, which meant there was no reason to waste a date night gagging on bug spray, longing for a glass of wine, and wishing I was somewhere else. If he was Bear Grylls, then I was president of Oprah's Book Club, readi
