Colors Of The Wild – Cindy Ras

I shove Marigold against the door as a means of protection. At least that way I’ll hear her skidding across the floor if someone else enters. I hum the Psych theme song, peeling my sweaty shirt away from my body and fanning myself with the fabric a few times as I’m doing my business. There’s no way I can keep testing the limits of my bladder like this. And even though I’d planned to avoid peeing behind a bush, I don’t think the canyon will mind if it comes to that, seeing as we’re doing our best to honor its history and protect a stupidly priced artifact.

Rather, it’s me who has to get over the indignity of peeing out in the open. With no running water and no way to wash my hands, I pull out my trusty travel hand sanitizer. You know those moments of instant regret, like when you cut your own bangs or you drop your phone?

This decision goes right to the top of that list. My hands are covered with a multitude of scratches and grazes—a right of passage in these craggly mountain halls—and the stinging that ensues is excruciating. I kick Marigold out of the way, maneuvering the door open with my elbows while breathing through the fire engulfing my hands. My promise to stay put is the furthest thing from my mind as I rush to the water fill station, panting like a woman in labor. Sue’s husband, whose name has eluded me at the moment, walks toward the station with his empty bottle, but I need to rinse the alcohol off my skin immediately, so I run with hands in the air as if they are in fact covered by that contagious rash.

My feet pick up speed, but so do Hawaiian-shirt hubby’s, and I suddenly find myself in a silent race to beat him to the water tap. I make it there a mere second before him, and I try to ignore the fact that he actually sped up when he saw me rushing toward the water source. Hello, is the panic not very clear on my face? Nobody warned me about this part of roughing it. I hiss at the pain and drop to my knees in front of the tap.

People are staring, but I ignore them and finally find relief once I rinse away all the stupid hand sanitizer. And I don’t even care that I look like a rabies victim. I let out a short chuckle, grateful that despite doing something so thoughtless, I’ve learned a small lesson. I’ll never make that mistake again.

I exhale and rise to my feet, stepping aside to allow a slightly disgruntled-looking Frank to use the faucet. Someone’s a little bitter, I think and shake my hands out, inspecting the multiple inflamed red cuts and scrapes as I head back to the restroom. “No bodyguard this time?”

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2026 by Cindy Ras All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design by Cindy Ras Editing by Katie Savoie @ksavoie.edits 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS Dear Reader Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Two weeks later Epilogue Acknowledgments Also by Cindy Ras 1kitap1.com/en For Nicola, my very own Fiona Sterling.

Thank you for the years of friendship and for showing me the power of color. I adore you and I’m so grateful for your insight. I want to be just as graceful and stylish as you when I grow up. 1kitap1.com/en DEAR READER This book is intended to be light-hearted and fun, even though some serious events occur. Things you’ll find that may be triggering include parental favoritism, sexual harassment and threat of physical harm, gun usage, a gunshot wound, and there also may be a dead body.

Happy reading! 1kitap1.com/en CHAPTER ONE I wish I’d answered the phone differently. Actually, there are so many things about the last sixty seconds I wish I’d done differently. Of all the times to forgo my usual polite greeting, I huffed out a frustrated and impersonal yeah? while fighting to keep my eyes on the road.

Also, there may have been some awkward grunting as I wrestled my dog away from the food sliding around on my passenger seat. And all I’ve managed to sputter out since then is a couple of ums and a barely coherent uh-huh. Weird Barbie would do a better job at a first impression than me. But what else was I supposed to say when my literal idol of almost seven years just up and called me out of the blue? Technically, she hasn’t even introduced herself yet, but I’d know that voice anywhere.

I’ve watched enough of her seminars and listened to every podcast and interview she’s ever done. I hear her voice in my head every time I pick up a garment on a hanger to examine its hues.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: e7b1f9db2ac9fa7b
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,713,867 bytes (2.588 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 245
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 413.1 minutes
• Total Words: 82,620
• Total Characters: 448,173
• Average Words per Page: 337.22
• Average Characters per Page: 1829.28

Most Frequent Words

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