Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
His pretty olive-colored eyes are hidden behind pink eyelids, and the sight of salt dried at the corners make me feel like the biggest jerk in the world.
I guess it would be easy to pass Drake off as a cutup. He flirts incessantly with anyone that crosses his path. He’s always smiling, always has this air about him that makes one think nothing bothers him, but it’s evident that isn’t the case.
He’s human after all.
I can’t stay in the tent with him any longer without wanting to curl up against him and apologize.
I know it’s guilt I shouldn’t feel making me want to have that reaction, so I do the only thing I can. I quietly pull on a clean change of clothes, gathering my boots and socks to put on outside of the tent.
I’m as silent as I can possibly manage, unzipping the tent and zipping it back up after exiting.
I’d say I was in there less than a handful of hours, and my eyes feel like sandpaper. I make my way to the outdoor kitchen Em and Misty so effortlessly set up yesterday, grateful for actual electricity because camping without it is honestly no fun at all.
I set to making coffee, singing those two women’s praises as I flip the switch on the coffee pot. It’s difficult to make coffee right over an open fire, and the damn thing has already burned out. Exhaustion swims inside of me as I wait for the brew to be complete, keeping my eyes on my occupied tent the entire time.
I fight the urge to go back inside, knowing that no matter what my body is trying to tell me, I’d never be able to go to sleep beside him. I’d either lie there awake like I’ve done since going to bed or I’ll lie there fighting the urge to wrap my arms around him.
I shove down the thought of him hurting, trying to convince myself that his emotions aren’t mine to worry about, but I can’t seem to manage it with my first cup of coffee. My mood starts to shift when others come out of their tents and cabins.
This really is a beautiful campground, but it isn’t until Alyssa steps outside, her nose turned up into the air as she takes a deep breath that I realize I’m missing the magnificence of it with my attitude problem.
I can either dwell on something I have no control over or I can move past it.
I choose to move past it when Alyssa smiles at me as she takes her first step off the porch.
“You’re up early,” she says as she pulls the lid off a tote on one of the picnic tables.
“Hard to sleep in a tent.”
She grins at me as she pulls several powder-filled jugs out of the tote. “I figured a rough-and-rugged Marine like yourself would—”
Her words fall away as her throat works numerous times on a swallow, her hand going to her stomach.
“Is it bad?” I ask when she manages to open her eyes again.
“Not too bad,” she says with a little grin. “Worth it.”
“Of course it’s worth it,” I agree. “But wouldn’t it be nice to be able to pass some of that off on to your husband?”
She rolls her lips between her teeth for a long moment before responding. “He’s promised to change all the diapers for the first year. It seems like a fair trade.”
“He’d change all those diapers even if he was the one with morning sickness.”
She beams at me. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Some people are just born with it,” I tell her.
Alyssa looks over my shoulder, her smile growing wider. “Now I see why you didn’t get much sleep.”
I follow her eyes, turning to look back at her immediately. There’s no way I can watch Drake emerge all sleepy-eyed from my tent.
“It’s not like that,” I assure her. “When are you going to make your announcement?”
She frowns at the change of subject, but doesn’t prod. “The second trimester. We still have a couple of weeks.”
“It’ll go by in a flash,” I tell her with a quick smile.
“Every day feels like a week,” she complains. “I think it’s because I’m so excited.”
Despite carrying on a conversation with her, my eyes still manage to track Drake as he walks toward the front of the cabins, disappearing around the corner.
A flash of regret threatens, but if the man is leaving, I think that’s beneficial to everyone involved.
As I continue to help Alyssa, several others join us, making getting breakfast ready a group effort, shared by all. It’s an undertaking to feed so many people, but nothing new for us. We have more room to spread out than we would back at the clubhouse in the kitchen there. Hound mans the bacon and sausage on one grill. Kincaid is grumbling about being a short-order cook, dealing with the eggs, and I stand with Alyssa who is making pancakes faster than I can distribute them to those waiting.