This is the sequel to Of Egg Rolls and Marshmallows. It's not necessary to read the first part, but doing so might make this one a little more enjoyable.

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Part One

"Oliver, you are the worst putt-putt player I've ever seen."

"Really?" He grinned and saluted me with his golf club.

I crossed my arms. "You're not even trying. I could win this game blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back and really bad music playing through my earphones. And let's not underestimate how distracting bad music can be."

"Now don't go getting your feathers all ruffled, Miles." Oliver slung an arm around my shoulder. "I'm just getting warmed up. Watch this shot. I bet I can bounce this ball off that rock, hit it in the air, and send it rolling down that hill for a hole in one. What do you think?"

I squinted at the rock, my brow creased doubtfully. "Yeah, right. If you make that shot, I'll buy you another hot dog and a snow cone."

"And if I miss?"

"You have to stop acting like a four-year-old and start trying to beat me."

"You're on."

He took his sweet time warming up. He stretched and flexed his muscles, pretended to assess the terrain, took a few practice swings. When he started meditating, I bopped him on the head.

"Hurry up! I could play the rest of the course faster than this!"

He set his ball on the fake grass and readied his club. A gathering of five or six people stood watching, including a little girl with an ice cream cone. Either they were waiting their turn, or they found Oliver's antics amusing.

"Stand back, my friends, and prepare to be amazed. Smokin' Oken's about to dazzle you with a feat of impossible odds."

"Mommy, what's a Smokin' Oken?" the girl asked.

"Not now, honey."

Oliver sent the ball whizzing down the greenway. It bounced off the rock and took flight. Oliver caught the edge of it in the air with his golf club, but instead of landing on the ground and rolling down the hill, it ricocheted off the giant pinwheel and spun back toward the onlookers.

Oliver jumped to intercept it and lost his footing. He tumbled into the shallow waters of a gurgling frog fountain.

And the yellow golf ball plopped right down on top of the little girl's ice cream cone.

She started crying.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. I knew Oliver wouldn't make that shot.

The girl's parents gave me an evil eye and moved ahead of us. Her two older brothers thought that was the funniest thing they'd seen all night. They chanted for Oliver to do it again – until their father yelled at them.

"If you kids don't get over here now, I'm gonna stuff grits and green worms down yer throats fer dinner!"

I wondered fleetingly if he was from Tennessee, too.

After they left Oliver looked up at me apologetically. "I'm really bad at this game, aren't I?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ya think?"

"My head hurts." He rubbed it. "I think I hit the frog leg."

"The frog leg is six feet away." I leaned over and took his hand. "Your head only hurts because you've used it so little tonight."

His lips twitched mischievously.

"And don't you dare pull me in with you, or I'll give your head a real reason to hurt."

I helped Oliver out of the fountain. He was soaked from head to toe, but we were having too much fun to quit now.

"Where's my golf ball?"

"Goldilocks has it over there." I pointed to the little girl. "Eww…is she licking the ice cream off of it?"

Oliver's nose wrinkled. "Never mind, she can keep it. Let's share yours."

We played through most of the course without incident. I got three holes-in-one, and Oliver steadily improved until he finally made a shot that didn't end up hidden in the grass, stuck in a bush, or floating in the water. Finally we came to the fated hole 22.

I stared at it. "Every time I play miniature golf, something bad happens at hole 22."

Oliver scoffed. "Sure it does."

"No, I'm serious. Last time I clubbed Jackson in the eye and he couldn't open it for three days. The time before that Lilly got stung by a bee. The time before that it started pouring and I ruined my new shoes." I checked each instance off on my fingers.

Oliver was still unconvinced. "I'm taller than Jackson so you won't hit me in the eye. I don't see any bees anywhere. And –" he glanced at my feet – "would it really be so bad if you ruined those shoes?"

I gasped and covered his mouth with my hand. "How dare you diss my shoes in a public place! That's an insult to the entire female race! I should break up with you for that!"

He lowered his head and mumbled beneath my hand. "Sorry."

It was dark now, and we had only the colored lights to illuminate our path. I placed my green golf ball on the turf cautiously. I scanned my surroundings.

"Hurry up, I'm getting hungry." Oliver leaned against his club.

I took a swing. My ball scurried precisely toward the hole, and stopped a foot away. Pleased with myself, I hopped down to the end to hit it in.

Something flew into my face. Yelping, I brushed it away. I looked around to see what it was, but the air was clear. I shuddered and lined up my next shot, but before I could swing, more of those fluttery things attacked my face.

"Ah!" I threw my golf club down and jumped back to Oliver, batting the air with my hands.

He laughed at me. "Oh, stop being a baby. They're just moths."

Indeed they were. Big, ugly, brown moths were fluttering around under the lights.

"I hate bugs." I hid behind Oliver, peering at them over his shoulder. "You go first."

He puffed his chest out. "You just wait here, Miles. I'll show you how it's done."

He marched bravely down to rescue my ball and club and bring them back. "See? No problem."

I watched skeptically.

He was halfway back when the moths swarmed around him. They were fierce little things, diving right into him as if to run him out of their space. He whacked at them with my golf club and shook his head to scare them away.

"I have a right to be here!" He fought harder. "I paid eight dollars and fifty cents to be in this spot. You're gonna have to take your little mothy get-together somewhere else! Ha! Take that!"

They grew in number. Finally Oliver raced back to me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me to the other side. I screamed as we ran through the sea of moths. We didn't stop until we were several holes away.

"Whew, that was close." Oliver pulled me behind the lighthouse. "They almost got us."

I laughed and leaned against him. "Was the little boy scared of the little moths?"

"Hey, those were big moths!"

I brushed one out of his hair. "Oliver, that was very gallant of you to rescue me."

"Thank you." He pushed me gently against the lighthouse and kissed me.

Mmm-hmm, yup. Definitely still tingly, light-headed, heart-racing stuff going on there. How he could still do that to me after seven months, I had no idea.

"Haven't you always wanted to make out on a miniature golf course?" I asked as he kissed along my neck.

He lifted his head. "You mean with all the little kids running around and the cute plastic animals watching us?"

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should stop."

"No…" He closed his mouth over mine with impressive determination. I indulged myself a little. I mean, hey, what girl wouldn't?

"Mommy, how come my ball won't come out the other side?"

Oliver and I broke apart and looked at each other. It was dark. Maybe they wouldn't see us and we could just slip away….

"Hey, Mister. You're in the way." The little girl pushed Oliver's leg.

I glanced down and saw the yellow golf ball trapped between the lighthouse and Oliver's shoe.

"That's my ball." Oliver picked it up.

The girl started crying again.

"Okay, okay, never mind, you can have it." He put it back down.

"What're you doin' messin' with my kid?" The dad towered over us.

"Good Lord, what are you two doing back here? You're corrupting our children." The mom covered her daughter's eyes. "I swear I don't know why they let teenagers come here unsupervised. They never behave themselves."

Oliver and I took our cue to leave.

When we got back to his car we were laughing. "Oliver, we are so bad."

"I had a dream like this once." He leaned against the car door. "Except it was bowling instead of putt-putt and the little girl was a mean little boy who kept throwing ice cubes at me. But he had two mommies, so I understood."

"Boy, what do you eat before you go to bed?" I ruffled his hair. "Was I in your dream, too?"

"Yes, but you were Hannah and you were signing autographs on pink bowling balls."

"Was I wearing a cute outfit?"

"I don't remember if it was cute, but it was definitely sparkly."

I thought about it for a minute. "I guess I can roll with that. Let's go."

We stopped for cheesy fries and cokes on the way home. I loved sitting next to Oliver in his mom's old car, listening to the radio and talking. Well, joking around more than talking. Let me just say, when Oliver Oken is your boyfriend, fun comes with almost a one hundred percent guarantee. We hadn't been on a laughless date yet.

We strolled in through the front door of my house. Lilly was coming down the stairs at the same time and when she saw us, she smiled. "Hey, Miley, do you have a hammer?"

"You were looking for one in my bedroom?" I lifted an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "It seemed like a logical place. What if a burglar comes in and you need something to hit him with? Or what if there's a fire and you need to break out your window? Or what if -"

I clamped a hand over her mouth. "Or what if the bed monsters come out and I need to make loud noises to scare them away. I get it."

"So you have one, then?" Lilly asked hopefully.

Oliver leaned forward. "I think that was a no."

Lilly pouted. "Well, then I'll keep looking." She began rummaging through the kitchen drawers.

"Why do you need one?" I followed after her, closing the drawers she left open.

"Because we're building the world's coolest tree house, of course," she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"We?" I asked.

"Well, it was Jackson's idea, but I think it'll be fun."

Lovely. My almost-eighteen-year-old brother was building a tree house with my best friend. There was no way this could possibly turn out good.

"If only we could find a hammer..." Lilly sighed.

"Doesn't Mr. Stewart have a whole shed full of tools?" Oliver asked.

"Yes, but he locked it up and said Jackson wasn't allowed inside."

I nodded. "After the weed whacker incident last month, Jackson was banned from the tool shed."

"Oh, so that's why the back door is dented and the garden hose is all chopped up," Oliver mused.

I took Lilly's hand off the refrigerator door. "Lilly, think about what you're doing. People don't keep hammers in the refrigerator."

"My mom does," Lilly insisted. "Whenever the refrigerator starts making weird noises, she bangs it with the hammer and it stops."

I rolled my eyes. "This is crazy. We don't have a hammer in there. You're gonna have to have to find something else to hit nails with."

Jackson walked in through the back door then. He was wearing overalls, a bandana, and protective glasses. He had a two-by-four in one hand and an electric ruler in the other. "So I found the perfect place to put this baby." He laid the two-by-four on the kitchen counter.

"Where?" Lilly inspected the wood.

"That tree right behind the spot where Dad keeps the garbage can."

"But wouldn't that get stinky?" she protested.

"The only other place is right outside Miley's window -"

"And you are not building it there," I finished for him. Sweet niblets! I knew I'd regret the day Jackson discovered a two-by-four!

Robbie Ray came down the stairs with his guitar, humming a tune. He set the guitar down on its stand, walked past us, and fished through the refrigerator for a piece of pie. It wasn't until he turned around again that he noticed the two-by-four on his counter.

Jackson opened his mouth to explain.

"Don't say anything," Robbie interrupted. He uncovered the pie and stuck a fork into it. "I haven't decided yet if I want to know what you're up to."

"Aww, Dad." Jackson clapped him on the shoulder. "What father and son haven't spent time together building the world's coolest tree house?"

"The kind whose son don't know how to use a hammer without banging up everything the good Lord created around him."

"Come on, Dad, I haven't hurt you yet."

Robbie ate a mouthful of his pie. "Son, I'll give you five seconds to get that two-by-four away from my new marble counters, or I'll use it on you the way my daddy used it on me when I broke Grandpa George's tobacco pipe."

Jackson shrunk away from Robbie. He caught the two-by-four under his arm and with a nervous smile backed away. "You won't be seein' this baby anywhere near your counters, Dad." He disappeared out back.

Robbie swallowed another mouthful of pie. "Guess who I just got done talkin' to on the phone, Bud?"

Oh, no. He was using his 'you don't really want to know' voice. I cringed and hid behind Oliver. "Please not Luann. Please not Luann. Please not Luann..."

"Not Luann." Robbie found the milk and poured himself a glass. "Luann's sister, Bobbi Sue. She's coming to Malibu for the Pony Club championships and asked if she could stay with us."

"Bobbi Sue!" I exclaimed, jumping up and down.

Oliver and Lilly exchanged glances. "Uh...is this a good thing?" Lilly asked.

"It's a great thing! Bobbi Sue is the coolest, smartest, most fun cousin in the world. She's eighteen and she completely rocks. I haven't seen her since I moved here. Oh! I can't wait!"

Oliver winced. "Can you please stop squeezing my arm when you happy dance? We've been over this..."

I let go of him. "When's she coming, Daddy?"

"Tomorrow morning. Bright and early." He downed the milk from his glass in one long swig. "So you'd best get up to your room and make all that clutter disappear."

I grabbed Oliver by the wrist. "Come on, you can help me."

He followed reluctantly. "You're not gonna make me organize your makeup again, are you?"

"Of course not. That was a disaster. This time you can sort all my shoes by color and line them up in my closet."

"Oliver's going to be staying out of your closet," Robbie said calmly, waving his fork. "Remember, keep your door wide open. And when you think it's wide enough, open it some more."

Geez, did he not trust us or something?

I spent all night cleaning and reorganizing my room. I wanted it to be spotless for Bobbi Sue. Out of all my cousins, she was the one I loved the most. We were going to have a blast this week. I could hardly wait.

Dad wasn't kidding when he said bright and early. The doorbell rang the next morning at quarter after six. I was still in my PJ's, but I raced down the stairs with a grin the size of Texas and swung open the door.

Bobbi Sue stood before me, a flawless, polished gem. Her bleached blond hair was pulled up on her head and she wore the cutest little yellow spaghetti-strap dress I'd ever seen. Her yellow open-toed heels were my new idols. She was beautiful, and I worshipped at her feet.

"Miley, you adorable creature!" She air-kissed both my cheeks. "I will never forgive you for leaving me all alone in that dreadful state. The things I have suffered! The endless pig-pickin's and tailgate parties. The line-dancing in cow pastures. Oh, it is so good to finally be among civilized people." She adjusted her sun glasses over her head. "I was born to live in a place like this."

I smiled at her. I was too bewitched to talk.

"Wow, look at this place." She walked through the living room, leaving a waft of deliciously scented perfume behind her. "Very modern, very Californian. It screams, 'I've got money, but I don't want you to know it.'"

I followed after her, happy to be in her presence. Didn't I say she was the coolest cousin ever? Not only did she talk in complete sentences and dress like she was about to step onto the red carpet, but she actually had some class.

"So where's Uncle Robbie and Jackson?" Her heels clicked rhythmically as she walked through the kitchen. She peered into the sink and ran a finger along the counter. "I'm impressed. Two men in the house, and the kitchen is spotless."

"Well, you know my Dad," I managed to squeak. What was wrong with me?

"Really?" She picked up an apple from the fruit basket and inspected it. "I would've thought he'd be married again by now. Mind if I eat this? I'm starved. I've been on a plane all night and they didn't have any snacks under a hundred calories, even though I was flying first class."

"Go ahead."

She bit into it. "Oh yes, this is perfect. You're a doll, Miles."

Robbie Ray strolled down the stairs, followed by a mussy-haired Jackson.

"Uncle Robbie!" She dropped her apple on the counter and ran to kiss his cheek.

"Good to see you again, Bobbi Sue. How's your daddy doin'?"

"Oh, not well at all. He looks terrible." She kissed Jackson's cheek. "And aren't you just cuter than ever?"

Jackson scowled at her. I wondered if he was still mad about the time she accidentally locked him in the outhouse on Christmas Day. We'd already finished the turkey dinner before we realized he was missing - and there weren't any leftovers. Not with Uncle Earl there.

"Jackson, would you be a doll and grab my bags out of the taxi?" She smiled sweetly, then turned back to me. "Miley dear, we are going to have so much fun together. I have the whole week planned out. Of course we'll have to adjust based on your after-school activities and my show schedule, but at least we'll have a basic plan."

I basked in her glow. Jackson gave her an evil glare and muttered under his breath as he went to fetch her bags. Robbie started fixing breakfast.

Oh, I could hardly contain my excitement. This was going to be the most amazing week of my life.