Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“You need to leave,” Nathan barked as he saw him. “I don’t care what that little motherfucker told you, but if you’re still here in five minutes, you’ll be arrested.”
The man looked like he’d swallowed a brick as he nodded and took off around the back of the building.
I watched him go, wishing I could run away, too, and groaned as I climbed into the car.
“You don’t have to act like I’m taking you to your death,” he grumbled.
I didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t.
Because I wasn’t upset that I was with him.
I was freakin’ excited.
More so, I wanted to spend the time with him despite knowing that it was a bad idea on my part.
“How about we call a truce for today,” he suggested. “It’ll be fine.”
Would it, though?
I just wasn’t sure that I could act normally around him when it came to things like this.
***
“This is such a bad fucking idea,” I said as I looked at the tube I was somehow supposed to get into.
“Just jump and wiggle,” Hastings suggested.
I looked at her. “You go first, and I’ll follow.”
“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there!” She grinned and then jumped, doing exactly what she suggested.
Hastings had Tourette’s. Hastings also didn’t give a fuck that she had Tourette’s. You took her as she came, and I loved that about her.
Even more, I loved that she spouted off catchy jingles from my favorite commercials.
The sad thing was, I didn’t have Tourette’s and I still did that.
“Fuck!” I cried out, dipping my toe into the very cold water.
I knew that I’d get used to it, but goddammit. It was cold!
I tried to position the tube, but every time I tried to turn around and sit in it, the damn thing would move.
Realizing that I did, indeed, need to run and jump like Hastings had just done, I took a deep breath and launched my backside into it.
Everything was fine for all of three seconds. Then the tube rocked sideways too far and I found myself under water.
I came up spluttering as the way-too-cold water surrounded me.
“Whew!” I cried out. “Holy shit that’s cold!”
Everyone around me was laughing, and I rolled my eyes at them in annoyance. “It’s not funny!”
I tried to finesse myself into the tube from beside it, but every time I’d get half my body into the tube, the entire damn thing would flip up on its side, making it damn near impossible to get into.
I just didn’t have the upper body strength.
Just as I was about to give up, the tube was held with a steady hand, and I looked up to find Nathan standing chest deep in the water holding it for me.
I gave him an appreciative nod, then tried for the bazillionth time to get in.
I was halfway up when he tossed me up the rest of the way with his hand on my ass.
I squealed and twisted as I suddenly found myself on the tube, and then gasped when my ass fell into the hole.
My body was absolutely tingling as I turned around and stared at Nathan.
“Um, thanks,” I said huskily, feeling my heart pound in my ears.
“Welcome,” he muttered before going to his own tube that he’d abandoned.
Saint had been holding it for him so it didn’t float down the river while he’d helped me.
Then I watched in annoyed awe as he hefted himself into his own tube with barely any effort. The grace of his big, muscled body moving was enough to make my mouth fall open in shock.
Jesus, the man was pretty.
He didn’t have any tattoos except for the lone one on his chest that I’d dared him to get.
Actually, it wasn’t as much a dare as it was a bet.
I’d bet him one time during our senior year that I could get more homeruns that season than he could.
And guess who’d won? Me!
But only by one, and even then it was only because he hit a shit ton of long balls that were just shy of fair territory to be considered a home run.
Our bet had been if I hit more homeruns than he did—I could’ve gone pro with softball had I wanted to—he had to get a softball tattooed on his chest.
Needless to say, I’d gone with him that day to get it, and he hadn’t gotten another tattoo since.
He looked up then, his gaze catching mine as I stared at him.
I looked away, embarrassed, and slicked my hair back from my face.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked over at Sierra who didn’t have a single problem getting into her tube.
Her hair was still fucking straight and perfectly styled whereas mine was a tangled mess.
I was sure that my mascara was running, too.
Great.
I frowned. “How’s my mascara?”
She grinned. “Perfect because I got you the waterproof kind.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and allowed my head to fall back on the tube.