Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Learn how to fish.” He laughed.
I rolled my eyes.
I couldn’t say that learning how to bass fish had been my priority over the years.
I had the concept down, of course. I’d watched videos.
How hard could it be?
When I say “the other day” it could be anytime between yesterday and birth.
—Brecken’s secret thoughts
BRECKEN
I walked out of my house on tired feet.
Normally at this time of day I’d be getting up for my long run of the week.
Or, at least, I’d be lying in bed, telling myself I needed to get up.
But there I was, dressed in lined leggings, my UGGs, a sweatshirt, and a huge jacket that once upon a time belonged to my father.
It was one of those lined jean jackets with the fluffy white material around the lapel.
One button didn’t button, another was hanging on by a thread, and the pockets had a hole in each liner making it impossible to put anything smaller than my phone in it or I’d lose it.
But it was sentimental.
My dad had owned it once upon a time, and it’d been the one that my mother had stolen from him when they started dating.
It’d been one of the things I’d taken with me when my parents decided to downsize and move into a camper and tour the country full-time.
My mom still occasionally asked about the jacket, and if I was taking care of it.
Thinking of my mom, I handed my phone to my brother when he pulled up and said, “Take a picture of me so I can send it to Mom.”
“Your mother and this jacket have an unhealthy relationship,” Tibbs said.
I snorted and posed, making sure to hide my bottle of beer in my hand behind the car door.
Tibbs handed the phone back to me and said, “Why do you have a bottle of beer this early in the morning?”
“Because I was thirsty, and the only thing I have left is beer,” I said as I twisted the top off and took a swig.
Beer wasn’t my first choice of drink in the morning.
Truthfully, I would’ve killed for some coffee or an ice-cold water, but the water out of my tap was disgusting, and I’d run out of coffee two days ago—hence me going to the coffee place by the school—but I rolled out of bed ten minutes after my alarm went off, and Tibbs had been patiently waiting outside for fifteen minutes now.
I highly doubted he’d be agreeable to stopping to get coffee.
Hence the beer.
“You’re weird,” he pointed out. “Try to finish it quick. I don’t want to get pulled over by any cops.”
I made sure to pay attention to where I was drinking it and finished it up before putting the top back on and shoving it into Tibbs’s glove box.
I raised my brows and used the neck of the bottle to pull out a pair of red lacy thong underwear.
“New fashion choice?” I drawled, dangling them in front of him.
Tibbs shrugged unremorsefully.
“You’re lucky I got them out of your seat before you got in,” he said.
I curled my lip and shoved them both into the glove box before shutting it closed a little too hard.
“That’s disgusting, Tibbs,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. “You should’ve driven yourself if it was a problem.”
“At least tell me that you wore a condom, and I don’t have to deal with your bodily fluids,” I begged, eyeing the seat with a disgusted look.
“No glove, no love,” he teased.
I looked at him and said, “I feel like dating as I get older is kind of like when I go to Walmart and try to find a buggy that runs smooth.”
“You’re thirty-two, Brecken.” He laughed. “You still have plenty of time.”
“Thirty-five is considered ‘old’ when you get pregnant. I want lots of babies, Tibbs. And it’s not looking like I’m gonna get those.” I shrugged.
“Stop finding the ones that are easy. Look for the ones that make your heart race,” he said. “If it’s easy, it’s not worth it.”
“Is that what you said when you had the girl in the front seat of your truck?” I teased.
He grinned unrepentantly. “Sometimes easy is the answer.”
I rolled my eyes and sat back in my seat, my eyes closing as the warm feeling of the beer in my belly started to take root.
I was dreaming of donuts and hot coffee when Tibbs slowed to a stop and pulled into a parking spot.
I opened my eyes to see my other brothers all gathered around Ryler’s Bronco—the old kind of Bronco, not the new kind.
I got out and shivered at the chill in the air.
The one freakin’ day that it could be warmer, and it wasn’t.
This was going to really suck.
I hated being cold.
“Where’s Holden?” I asked as I took a look around.
There were a ton of bass boats everywhere. People were backing in. Others were loading the boats. Some were in the water.