Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I always gave it right back to them, too.
Especially to Hattie.
She was a textbook dork back then with her frizzy hair, thick glasses, and round nose always stuffed in a book bigger than her head.
I’m back to being sixteen, a sandcastle-stomping dick, full of teenage angst and testosterone.
That summer was the first time I felt like I deserved a man’s respect, but the girls tattled on me to Holden for smoking.
Gramps put me under house arrest.
Fucking house arrest.
Marooned with his mute statue of a bodyguard. Hell, even Ares is livelier than Holden.
Even now, I can feel echoes of frustration.
I was supposed to go out on one of my many summer dates. Instead, I was stuck at home with nothing to do but play Xbox and text my friends.
So, being the little bastard I was, I decided to get revenge.
If the girls were intent on ruining my summer, I’d set theirs on fire like a flaming bag of dogshit.
From my prison in the house, I watched them on the warm beach, spending the afternoon building pyramids and sphinxes in the sand. Hattie had some book about Egypt for inspiration.
Their creations were impressive, honestly. At the time, I thought it was lame.
When they were finally done, I managed to sneak past bulldog Holden and crushed their little wonders.
Every last one.
Stomped them into the ground like King Kong on a bender.
Sweet revenge.
For all of five minutes.
After I was done, I hid behind the rocks, waiting for the girls’ reactions. I guess I thought they’d go into a wild rage or something.
I never expected the sadness.
Definitely not the way Hattie burst into tears.
She fucking cried her eyes out.
God.
Even as a teenage punk in perpetual victim mode, I knew I’d gone too far.
That’s why I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn the next morning so I could build them the grandest beach pyramid ever crafted.
Gramps and Holden caught me in the act.
The old man was always an early riser, starting his morning walks before sunup. But a squall came in and so did the tide, melting the pyramid before the girls ever saw it.
One more lesson I learned from Gramps—it’s a hell of a lot easier to unleash havoc than it is to set things right.
Sometimes, the universe itself is stacked against you.
If only that lesson could’ve sunk in.
I might’ve checked my attitude with no one getting hurt—nobody killed—blissfully ignorant to knowing this world doubles as Satan’s pop-up carnival.
I chuckle bitterly and finish my drink.
Over in the corner, Ares lets out a low, discontent woof.
“Yeah, okay, big guy. You’re right. What’s this trip down memory lane getting me?” I slam the album shut.
I wish my life lessons had been kinder, but Portland was a savage teacher.
When I fled this town, not long after the happy photos ended, I only knew two things.
No good deed goes unpunished.
And karma is a cruel motherfucker.
As I pour out a second whiskey, I think about the grown-up Hattie I met today, her frizzy hair tamed into brilliant wisps of gold. Even her glasses are more stylish and subdued with their turquoise frames.
I think about her fire, the attitude and backbone she’s sprouted, and I wonder what put it there.
Annoyingly, I think about her magnificent ass.
The way it felt when my hand swept across it, how soft and full she is, a feast of flesh for a man who moves through Instagram models and Central Park runners like eating chips.
They work like hell for their boyish, slender figures. They spend through the nose for a touch of glamor.
But Hattie had an undeniable vibe that feels natural, authentic.
From his perch on the floor, Ares gives me the lazy eye until I shake my head. I know what he’s asking.
What karmic hell am I in for now by making Hattie Sage my wife?
And what sandy marvel will melt under me this time, trying to play fair?
5
ALL THAT GLITTERS (HATTIE)
“It looks amazing!”
I slide a hand down my belly, always my problem area when it’s rocking that stubborn chub.
Well, that and my thighs.
But this dress is elegant and hip-hugging, and that’s the issue.
You don’t want fabric hugs from anything when the world sees every roll and dimple like a flaw. And the world will soon be staring at me with wide, curious eyes.
Ethan, too.
No, don’t think about Ethan!
Not easy when he’s all I’ve been able to think about, ever since I woke up this morning with a migraine and this off-kilter feeling.
It’s like when you accidentally skip forward a few chapters in a good book and you no longer have any clue what’s happening.
Margot smiles at me in the mirror.
I try to ignore the angry bees humming around my stomach. The moment I tumbled out of bed, she dragged me outside for some retail therapy in one of the biggest boutique malls in Portland.
“Are you sure?” I ask, turning to the side and sucking in my stomach. No matter how hard I try, it’ll never be flat.