Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I chuckle. “Let’s not make something out of nothing.” I tap the top. “I’ll cover the tab.”
“She was charging everything to her card.”
“I know. I’ll cover it. They spent a lot to make this event happen, so I don’t mind.”
Taking the black card I pulled from my wallet, he heads for the computer, and says, “You’ll get the family discount.”
“As long as it’s a discount and not cutting into profits. You need to get this place on its feet.”
I sign the tab just as Cricket returns. “Soooo.” She rocks back on her heels. “What do you want to do?”
Too many ideas come to mind, none of them appropriate for the current situation between us. Unlike the last time we were alone together, this time is about getting to know one another outside the bedroom. “Do you know how to swim?”
CHAPTER 12
Cricket
“Did you have to secure the life vest so tight?” I ask, tugging on the straps to loosen the top one so I can breathe normally. “This isn’t even necessary. I know how to swim.”
Standing toward the back of the rowboat, Griffin pulls the paddle through the water. He glances down at me, a grin set on his face, seemingly enjoying my struggle. “Better safe than sorry. It’s dark. You can’t see to the bottom of the water, especially when we’re stirring up the mud.”
I pop the latch, freeing my chest from the confines, and take a deep breath. “Good lord, is this a kid’s vest or what?”
“It’s small. You’re small. Figured it’d work.”
“If you’re so worried about falling in the water, why didn’t you have to put on a life vest?”
“Because I know my strengths. I’m not going down in five feet of water. I can literally walk to the shore. But you . . .” Sitting down on the back bench of the boat, he sizes me up, then says, “You’d be underwater, hence the life vest.”
“For your information, I’m five-four. I could walk out of this river as well.”
“Not without your mouth underwater.” He rests the paddle on the side of the boat, and asks, “Is this what you want to argue about? Your safety?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m simply—okay, fine.” Yeah, okay, I was arguing, but this isn’t a battle I need to fight, not with him anyway. “I’ll zip my lips.”
“No need to go to extremes there, Little Chirp.”
I drop my head to the right, having a strong suspicion this is the name I’m going to be stuck with from him. “Little Chirp doesn’t even make sense.” Annoyance coats my tone, and I cross my arms over my stomach since this vest keeps me from holding them higher.
“Sure it does. Crickets chirp, and you definitely do,” he deadpans with half a smirk on his face. “You’re not so tough or big, so little fits.”
“I’m not so unique. Everyone is little compared to you.”
He chuckles. “True.” Digging into the brown paper bag he had packed at the pizzeria, he pulls out a can of beer and pops the top before handing it to me.
Four beers are more than I usually drink, but considering it’s been over a five-hour period, and I didn’t finish the last two, I’m not worried about the aftereffects. I take a sip and set it in a cup holder so I can rest my hands on the small board at the bow of the boat.
He cracks open a bottle of water. “You’re not drinking?” I ask, suddenly feeling like a lush for accepting the beer.
“Since I’m driving you all the way back to your place, I’m good with water.”
The beer isn’t as appealing when I’m drinking alone. “Got another water in there?”
He nods and digs a bottle out of the bag. Twisting the top to loosen it, he hands it to me. I take a sip. It’s cool but not too cold. Just how I like it.
Soon, the sound of cicadas will overwhelm the summer nights, so I appreciate the gentle breeze rattling the leaves, the water soft around the paddle as it wades through, and frogs croaking from the shoreline of springtime.
The moon lights the way as we glide through the still waters. I look out into the night between trees that grow tall from the water. Moss hangs down, but Griffin steers us clear of the patches of grass and the lower branches. I keep my voice down so as not to disturb the peace of our surroundings. “This reminds me of Louisiana more than Texas.”
“An alligator wouldn’t be so shocking in this part of the marshy Colorado River. They’ve found practically everything else floating in these waters.”
I sit up, a bit alarmed by the implications. “How do you know about this place?”
“Been coming out here since before I could ride a horse—”
“Which was?”
“Almost four.” His downplaying that he could ride a horse as a toddler is interesting, and so unlike the side of him I’ve known prior to tonight. Seems like a child who’s Jacob’s age riding a horse on his own is something worth bragging about. “My dad and Mr. Riggins were old friends. We’d come out to help him now and again with plowing his field so he could plant a garden each year. We’d return to help harvest.”