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)
There were so many parallels in the story it was eerie. It was an ice storm, not a hurricane, but they’d still lost power. Cade, the hero, had saved the day, so she’d let him in and lit a fire to warm him up. And then—
I stood up abruptly, tossing our paper plates in the trash and then lifting my hair with one hand to fan my neck with the other. I was hot, so it wasn’t a lie. But I could use it as an excuse to give us both some distance.
“Now that the drama is over,” I said lightly, “I think I might take the kids and go sit in Myrtle. She still has AC.”
His look made me feel like I was under a microscope. “It’s not that hot,” he finally said.
“If you were a collie or a woman my age, you wouldn’t be so dismissive,” I teased awkwardly. “I don’t know how people live here when the only two seasons are humid rainforest and hurricane.”
“We manage.”
“As long as the power is on, you stay inside buildings or near bodies of water and keep sunscreen and portable fans with you at all times.” When he chuckled, I wagged my finger at him. “I’m not kidding. I mean sure, my life started going to hell back in California, but at least it was a dry heat.”
I thought he’d laugh again, but he sent me a piercing, understanding look instead. “You chose the wrong man and followed it up with a few bad years, August. It happens. But your life isn’t hell.”
“You’re right, that was a little dramatic. But you don’t know what I’ve been going through. Or maybe you do.” I shifted on my feet, hyperaware of his watchful gaze. “You’ve had the rest of the Rettas in your pocket for years now. There’s probably nothing I could tell you about me that you don’t already know. Which isn’t really fair, since I can’t say the same.”
“Are you saying that after all this time, you think you don’t know me?” He cocked his head to the side, looking up. “The rain’s stopped.”
He was right. The pounding on the roof had been so continuous, the sudden quiet was almost startling. I could hear my pulse and the sound of my soft exhalation. “I guess we can call that a silver lining.”
“Forget the car. Let’s go for a swim to cool off.”
“What?” I sputtered. As if I hadn’t had dreams that started exactly like this. “I have a hole in my roof, a mess in my living room and drugged-up dogs to take care of, Wade. Not to mention I’m finally dry, I just ate and I don’t want to get hit by lightning. I can’t go swimming.”
How many excuses can you fit into one sentence?
“We’ll be fine, and why the hell not?” His smile was pure challenge. “It’s your pool. I was in it yesterday and it felt great.”
I remembered him in it. Vividly.
He got to his feet, standing over me with a dare in his eyes. “We’ve got a break between storm bands. Cool off with me, and we’ll have ourselves some honest conversation. What’s that thing they do online? Ask Me Anything? We’ll take turns.”
That sounded ominously like a challenge. I was usually great at avoiding those, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to this time. Not when he was looking at me like that.
“How honest are we talking?”
“No questions or confessions off the table. Whatever’s said in the pool, stays in the pool.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and I was done.
He was offering to let me get to know him better.
“And no skinny-dipping,” he added with a warning look. “I need to be able to think straight.”
The prickling mortification that had initially rushed up my neck morphed into a full-body flush of pleasure at the thought that my body could distract him.
“You wish,” I said breathlessly as I stood too. “Okay, fine, we’ll go swimming. As long as we can take a pass on something we don’t want to answer.”
“Done.”
When he just stood there with a grin on his face, I shooed him with my hands. “Go ahead. I need to take care of business. I’ll meet you out there in ten.”
“Make it five.”
Five minutes later, I walked into the water wearing my snug sports bra under my shirt to keep the girls from floating up under my chin. Wade hadn’t shown yet, but Merlin was slowly navigating the minefield of tree limbs and pine needles littering the pool deck as if it were any other day at the dog office.
The water, though barely cooler than the air, was still a relief, and I let out a soft, blissful moan when it reached my shoulders. The weight I’d been carrying there lifted enough that I could breathe and let go of the last few hours and the new problems that had come with them.