Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” he screeches. “Tell My Family I Love Them!”
I am doubled over at this point, sinking into the water with a giggle fit. Can hardly breathe when Maverick trips on a submerged rock, stumbles, then belly flops forward with a splash that sends ripples in a thousand directions.
He flops onto the shoreline, body collapsing onto the beach, limbs sprawled, chest heaving like he just survived a shark attack.
Dear Lord. “Are you dying? Do I need to call for help? Should I start CPR?”
He throws a hand over his face and groans. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Too late. I have so many things to say.”
“Please no.”
We both dissolve into more laughter; the kind that makes your cheeks hurt and your ribs cramp, and by the time we finally quiet down, I’m lying next to him on the grass, several inches apart from him, staring up at the blue sky.
Breathless. Smiling.
Still thinking about the way he was thinking about kissing me before the seaweed attack of doom.
He turns his head slightly, and even with damp hair and seaweed clinging to his arm, he’s unfairly cute. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Not even a little,” I say.
“Cool, cool,” he replies. “I look forward to your speech at my wedding: ‘I knew Maverick was the one when he screamed like a banshee and ran from a leaf.’”
“Exactly,” I say, eyes twinkling. “It’s your origin story.”
“I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
“Oh yeah?” I roll toward him. “And what did you see?”
“Regret. A montage of poor decisions. The time I bleached my hair blond in middle school. That time I threw up during my rookie training camp for the Sentinels.”
He is too much.
He is . . .
So cute.
Adorable.
He turns his head to look at me, wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes still wide and ridiculous but somehow . . . sweet.
“You didn’t even try to save me.” When he laughs, it’s a husky, open sound that makes my chest flutter. My breath hitches—stupidly, embarrassingly—because his smile is crooked and boyish and his lashes are too long for a man who screams like a toddler over lake weeds.
Then he makes it worse when he says, “Last night wasn’t a poor decision, you know.”
I go still. The laughter evaporates from my chest like mist.
I glance over at him, my heart knocking awkwardly against my ribs. “Callum—”
“I mean it,” he says, voice low and serious now. “I don’t regret a single second of it.”
My throat goes dry. He shifts onto his side, elbow propping him up, face suddenly way too close.
And just like that, the ridiculousness of the past five minutes is replaced by a spark so potent it crackles in the space between us.
Zip. Zing.
He watches me, eyes flicking to my mouth and back again, like he’s weighing the risk. Like he’s trying to decide whether I’ll kiss him back or not.
I don’t move.
Can’t.
Because now I’m hyperaware of everything—the way his damp hair curls slightly at his temple, the faint scrape of stubble along his jaw, the heat radiating between us despite the lake water still drying on our skin.
He leans in slowly, like he’s giving me time to change my mind, but then his lips brush mine—soft and sure—and the rest of the world disappears.
It’s not a fireworks-and-confetti kind of kiss.
It’s better.
One I think about while we’re paddling back to the cottage. One I think about when I’m in the shower, alone.
One I think about when I walk out of the bathroom and find him at the kitchen table.
“Still wanna crash that wedding?”
Chapter 14
Maverick
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”
The towel is wrapped around her head like a turban, and she’s wrapped in a robe that came with the cabin. The robe’s two sizes too big, and I hope that if I stare at it hard enough, it will fall off her body.
“You only live once,” I announce, holding up the two champagne flutes I snagged from the back of the cabinet and giving them a little jiggle. One has a chip. The other might still have lipstick on it from the last person who stayed here. Classy.
Annabelle eyes me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “You seriously want to sneak into a stranger’s wedding? That is so tacky.”
“Do not get cold feet on me now,” I say. “I seriously need this. Eat someone else’s cake. Do the ‘Cupid Shuffle’ with people I’ll never see again. Cry during a speech that’s not meant for me. That’s the dream.”
Plus, I’m already getting bored. There are only so many things one can do in the woods in an isolated cabin—and since she and I are not a couple, it’s not as if we can have sex all day, every day.
She laughs, finally. “You have a problem.”
I grin. “I know. But I’ve also got a plan. So? You in?”