Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“I’m all out of thimbles,” Wade said, his expression deadpan. “I thought you were writing.”
I gripped my elbow with my opposite hand while Merlin stayed close to my leg. The key to calming my sudden nerves and staying focused might be to avoid looking at Wade entirely, so I directed my answer to Lucy instead. “I got a phone call and decided to close up shop for the day. Sounds like I showed up right on time.”
“You’re an angel. Sit down and join us,” he said magnanimously as he slid his arms into a purple bowling shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and clinging damply to his wide frame. “It’s been an age since we saw you, August Retta. How’ve you been? Feeling better? Have you heard from your sister recently?”
I sat down and accepted the drink Rick handed me. “I am and I have, but don’t let small talk with me distract you three from your meeting. It sounded important.”
“Oh, it is.”
Wade took the chair beside me and grumbled like a grumpy bear, “I’m sure August doesn’t want to hear about the race.”
I almost glared at him but managed to keep from turning his way. What happened to my sexy neighbor who offered his help with anything I needed?
“Maybe the old man’s hearing is starting to go,” I snarked, “because he’s sitting right next to me, and I thought I was making it pretty obvious that I do.”
Lucy’s laugh all but drowned out Wade’s “I’d forgotten you were this sassy.”
The murmur landed like a thunderclap in my brain, but before I could react, he raised his voice. “You’ve got fresh meat here, guys. You want to tell her about Dave?”
Thank you.
“Fucking Dave,” Rick muttered across the table.
“He knew how important October was,” Lucy added, staring off into space, leaning his fist against his dark red beard. Was he…posing?
“Because of the anniversary?” I prompted.
“You remembered.” Lucy dropped his hand, looking thrilled. “That’s right. Five years of That Lemon Life.”
That wasn’t the name of the race, but it sounded like he’d capitalized it. That Lemon Life would be a great title for something, so I stashed it away for later.
“I’m learning how to make tarts for the occasion,” he continued. “Or I would be if my lady allowed me inside long enough to use the kitchen. I’m in the doghouse again—Rick didn’t tell me the concert last weekend was three states away and I’d end up missing the gender reveal party for her younger brother’s much younger wife.”
Rick gave him a look. “That’s the story you’re going with?”
“I’m glad Phoebe skipped that,” Wade said under his breath and I silently agreed, though I managed to do it while avoiding eye contact.
I could feel him, though. The close proximity of our chairs, exacerbated by his man-spreading, had his thick thigh almost brushing mine. It was both too much and not enough.
“You’re a woman, August.”
That got my attention, and I batted my eyes at Lucy. “Thanks for noticing.”
“Everyone’s noticed,” he said, winking back.
Then he glanced at Wade before sending an inquiring look in Rick’s direction. Sometimes I swore they could speak telepathically, but right now it was annoying. What was I missing?
“You have to agree those things have gotten out of hand,” he continued when he finally focused on me again. “It’s gone from pink or blue ribbons to rocket grenades and paintball wars. My lady hated every minute of it and she’s still got blue dye in her hair. Why would she want to put me through that?”
Was that a serious question? And was this what these guys really talked about when women weren’t around? I thought it was all cars, all the time.
Don’t be sexist.
“Why would she want you to take her somewhere you both hate instead of going all alone? Hmm.” I tapped my chin, pretending to contemplate the answer when it was beyond obvious. “If you don’t already know, I’m not sure I can help you.”
“Don’t tease me, August. If you can explain my lady love, I’ll give you anything you want. Heck, if you’re willing to let strays bunk here for free, I could use a place to—”
“Fuck off, Luce,” Wade said, the snarl in his voice making me startle beside him.
“—Or I could pay you for consultations, like an attorney,” Lucy course-corrected like a pro. “You could bill me by the quarter hour for every time I put my foot wrong with my boo and needed your advice.”
I shook my head. “Tempting, but your money is no good here. How about this? If you promise to tell me more about Dave and the race, I’ll tell you the story of Gene eating a jackass right now.”
“There will be an annual retelling of that tale around the fire pit for years to come,” Lucy vowed, his eyes twinkling with humor as he dragged another fry through his ketchup. “No wonder you write stories for a living. Was she always this good at it, Wade?”