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Two single dads. One huge grudge. And one tiny tent.
It's hard enough balancing two jobs with raising my son solo. Forget dating. I barely have time for laundry.
But when my son's scouting troop The Falcons needed a co-scout leader, I couldn't say no. There's just one ginormous problem: the other scout leader Russ.
To all other parents, he's #DadGoals, Mr. Sexy Widower who lords over the drop off line.
To me? He's the bane of my picket-fenced existence - stuck up, anal (not in the fun way), and definitely the person who got me booted from the Parent Teacher Association. I can't let him wrest control of The Falcons and have history repeat itself - no matter how hot he looks in his khaki uniform.
Thing is, the more we work together, the more I glimpse the caring man lurking under the cold exterior. Maybe he isn't the completely wretched human being I thought.
We'd both sworn off romance to focus on fatherhood, and nothing's going to change that, not even sharing a too-small tent in the wilderness.
Right?
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