Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Hey girl!” Brooke called, coming out of her room in her bare feet—bright yellow toenails on full display. The proof of her time spent with her kids at the pool was out in the open, too. Tan lines from her bikini, jean shorts, and flip-flops spoke to hours in the sun, the way some freckles stood out across her nose and cheeks despite knowing she lathered herself and the kids up every hour or so when outside.
“Hey, Brooke,” I said, giving her my first genuine smile of the day.
“Feeling better? You don’t look like death no more.”
“Yeah. Still have the head cold thing going on, but feel mostly human again. Lainey too.”
“That’s good. Getting any ick is the worst with kids. But it seems like you had some help on your hands,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“It’s not like that.”
Fine, it had been for just a few moments. In the bathtub. But I’d convinced myself it was just an ‘of the moment’ type of thing. Nudity and closeness and hormones.
Nothing else had happened since. Not even close.
“That’s a shame. That is one fine man.”
“He had a black eye.”
“What can I say? Bad boys have always been catnip to me. Which is why I have sworn off men. I can’t be trusted. Anywho. You got a delivery while you were gone,” she said, walking back to her room to grab a large box. “I didn’t want to let it sit out, so I snatched it for you.”
“You’re the best,” I said.
“What’d you order?”
“I didn’t. Coast has been on a buying spree,” I told her, nodding my head toward my room that was now a lot fuller than it used to be.
Brooke’s jaw went slack as she took in the baby swing, the activity saucer (that Lainey was still too small for), the tummy time mat, and the various other items he’d ordered and had delivered same or next day, then spent an hour or two assembling.
“Girl, give him some kitty,” Brooke said, dragging a snort out of me. “I’m serious! Lock that man down with some good, old-fashioned loving. Get on your knees until he gets on his. This is a marriage-material kind of man. Wouldn’t complain about your shopping habits because he’s doing it all for you. What’s not to love?”
“He just felt bad for me.”
“And he had a thought. Then acted on it. That’s hot. If you don’t give him some cat, I might toss mine at him,” she said, grinning at me. “Can I open this box? I wanna see what else he bought.”
We both stood there on the balcony so she could listen for her kids as she tore into the box like a raccoon, using her nails to get the paper tape open.
“More toys for Lainey?” I asked.
“Girl, no. He’s treating you now.”
She placed the box on the ground, reaching inside to pull items out one by one.
There were two silk pajama sets (with matching short robes), bath goodies, a nice pair of flip-flops.
“Girl, these are designer,” Brooke said, wiggling the flip-flops in front of my face. “And I’m still not done.”
She wasn’t.
There was also one of those big stainless steel tumblers in a cute gradient pink color, an iced coffee carafe with the perfect dimensions to fit in my tiny fridge, and a three-pack of different coffee flavors.
“If you tell me you told this man that you like flavored iced coffee, I might spontaneously combust out of pure jealousy.”
I had.
He’d remembered.
And, like Brooke said, he’d acted.
I wasn’t exactly surprised. Everything about my time with Coast told me he was a good man. Kind. Generous. Thoughtful.
“God, I’m getting all hot and bothered, and he didn’t get me anything,” Brooke said, piling everything back into the box. “Listen, you want to go jump that man’s bone in thanks, you can leave that baby with me.”
“I’m not going to jump his, or anyone else’s, bones.”
“I said bone but I get it. I mean, clearly, we have some bad history with men.”
“Mama,” Soleil called.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I have chips?”
“Yes, baby, have some chips,” she called back. “Dinner is going to be sandwiches, so chip-etizers makes sense,” she added to me. “So, bad history aside, what’s the hang-up?”
“He’s a biker.”
“What I’m hearing is he has a vehicle,” Brooke said, making me laugh. “What? My ex didn’t. Had a tree fall on his during a hurricane. And he was such a baby that he wouldn’t call the insurance company to deal with it, so he just… didn’t have a car anymore.”
“Wow.”
“I know. But what else is on your list?”
“He gets into fights.”
“I’m hearing he would be able and willing to defend you and your baby.”
“He has wild stories about naked pool parties and body shots.”
Brooke pressed her lips together at that, looking for a possible perk to it.
“I imagine he has had lots of practice in the way of loving. Which you can enjoy the benefits of. After a comprehensive STI panel.”