Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I say, resting my hip against the kitchen cabinet.
“Hey. What’s happening over there?”
“Just hanging out. Thinking about getting the rest of my shit unpacked and then heading to the grocery store. What about you?”
“Same shit. Different day.” He laughs. “How’s the house? All good?”
I glance around the kitchen. “Yeah. So far, everything’s great. Gus appreciates how close we are to the park. He headed down there a few minutes ago.”
“That’s good. Heard you ran into one of my sisters today.”
I did? My brows pinch together as I try to make sense of that. I know Miles has two sisters who live in Sugar Creek, but he doesn’t talk about them much. He mentioned that he only keeps this house because it rents so easily that it’s financially ignorant to sell it. He couldn’t even tell me when he was last here.
“Who is your sister?” I ask.
“You saw her at the farmers’ market. Her name is Markie.”
Slowly, my thoughts pull to a stop. “That’s your sister?”
“One of them.”
“No offense, but I don’t see the family resemblance.”
“Well, she is my half sister,” he says, missing the joke. “My other half sister is Mira. She lives with her husband, Hartley, out by Gray’s. He’s a good guy.”
What a small world. I scratch the top of my head.
“Markie’s a pistol, which I’m sure you figured out since you talked to her for longer than thirty seconds,” he says.
“She seems …” Like a damn good time. “Fun.”
Miles snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
“She locked me outside once in my boxers, in February, because I ate her leftovers.”
I laugh.
He doesn’t. “She also borrowed my buddy’s truck one time. Didn’t tell him. Also didn’t answer her phone for like four hours. The police got involved—the whole bit. But, in typical Markie fashion, once it was all said and done, my buddy was somehow apologizing to her. I was apologizing to him. She apologized to no one.”
My laughter grows louder.
“It’s Markie’s world. We all just live in it,” he says with an exasperated sigh.
Lucky you. I clear my throat, wondering just how much more I can prod him along. Miles isn’t one for shooting the shit just to shoot it, and I have no idea how he’d react if he thought I was trying to get information out of him about his sister. But he brought her up. I’m just continuing the conversation. That seems fair—kind, even.
“What’s up with her and pickleball?” I ask, testing the waters. “I take it there’s a tournament, and she’s very serious about it.”
“Oh yeah.” I can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Her ex was supposed to be her partner. It’s all she’s talked about for a fucking month.”
Her ex, huh? “That sounds problematic.”
“For him. Markie is a fucking menace.”
I take a long drink and let this new information marinate.
This is why she wants to win. Makes sense—beating an ex is a great motivator. But if she wants to win that badly, she’ll need a great partner. And although I don’t know many people in this town, I’d venture to say I’m the best qualified candidate for the job.
A slow smile stretches from ear to ear.
“When you change your mind later, you’re going to beg.”
I was kidding when I said that to her, but I may have been onto something.
Miles sighs through the line, signaling that he’s done talking about Markie.
“How’s work been going?” I ask, knowing if there’s one thing that Miles will happily talk about, it’s himself.
As predicted, he veers off into the world of marketing, giving me ample time to let my mind wander to Markie and pickleball.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Markie
“So, yeah, it should all go pretty quickly,” Gianna says, plucking a cherry tomato from her salad. “We sign papers next week, and then the lake house is ours.”
If it were possible to have hearts as irises, Gianna would be sporting them.
The best thing to come from Mira marrying Hartley Adler is that her new friend group became mine. Gianna, Astrid, and Audrey are kick-ass women who love fiercely, honestly, and completely. They even love Nettie, too, although she’s slower to grow close to new people. You have to pass her FBI-level background check and survive a probationary period before she decides whether she’ll let you into her world. Most people don’t get the invite.
The lunch rush passed an hour ago, and Piper’s Pizza is fairly quiet. A couple of men in business suits talk shop in the corner, and a lone farmer remains at the circular table in the center of the room that was packed when we first arrived. It gives Lisa, everyone’s favorite server, a moment to breathe.
“I love that property,” I say, biting the end off a slice of sausage pizza. “And it’s in the perfect spot with how it sits back from the road, hidden by all the trees. You could probably just live in a hammock and be happy.”