“You get caught in the kitchen stealing chicken carcasses for voodoo rituals or something?” Travis glanced up from the stick he was supposedly whittling. “What’s that?” Ashley continued to play her guitar softly. Maybe if she wasn’t looking straight at him he’d feel easier about telling her what the hell was going on. “You feeling the urge for…stress release?” His laugh was tight—not the usual light and cocky response she should have gotten. “Stress release. I like that, but no, not really. Although I did talk to Cassidy earlier today.” They were seated in the clearing where eventually there would be a group fire pit with row benches around it for customers to use. Now there was only the fire ring, and Ashley had hauled in lawn chairs from her camper. They were in that between time of the day—after supper was done and before people were ready to officially give up for the night. She figured there was about ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the rest of the crew would start wandering in with drinks in hand.
