by Dakota Madison
When Bly is arrested for reading one of the great books while driving home, a judge sentences her to thirty days of community service with The Wild Way, a therapeutic wilderness program for troubled teens.
There she meets Turner Wild, the owner and operate of the wilderness program. Turner is everything Bly despises: rugged, unrefined and outdoorsy. For Bly a trip to hell sounds more desirable than spending an entire month with Turner and his band of hooligans as they traverse the woods of rural northwest New Jersey communing with nature.
Bly certainly never expects to form a bond with the troubled teens she’s been assigned to mentor and forge an unlikely relationship with their fearless leader, Turner Wild.
“That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.”
She lets down the tailgate of the pickup, presumably for me to place my luggage in the empty truck bed.
I do my best to drag the suitcase over to the truck, but I feel like my muscles are on fire. There is no way I’m going to be able to lift the suitcase into the back of the vehicle.
The woman and I both stare at the suitcase for several moments.
“You can’t lift it, can you?” she asks finally.
I shake my head.
“Unbelievable.” She grabs the suitcase like it’s no heavier than a rag doll and tosses it into the back of her truck. Then she slams the tailgate of the truck closed.
She glares at me for several seconds. “I have some advice for you. Never pack more than you can carry.”
Before I have a chance to respond she marches over to the driver’s side of the truck and hops in.
I hurry over to the passenger side of the vehicle and stare at it for a few moments. I’m five feet seven inches tall. The woman is easily five inches shorter than me and she got into the truck with very little effort. I have no idea how I’m going to climb into this thing, particularly in my dress and heels.
“Are you coming?” She glares at me again. She’s very good at glaring. Despite her small stature she’s quite intimidating.
“If you’ll give me just a few seconds I need to figure out how to get inside of this truck.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
She jumps back out of the vehicle, makes her way around to my side then gives me an extremely hard shove right on my buttocks which propels me enough that I’m able to climb into the seat.
She stomps back over to her side of the truck, leaps into her seat with the ease of a rabbit then slams her door shut.
“Your truck is very high off the ground,” I observe.
About Dakota Madison