Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Better?” I ask as Tessa settles onto the log next to mine beside the fire.
She sighs, tossing her impossibly thick hair over her shoulder. I swear, the woman's golden-streaked chestnut hair hangs all the way to her waist, and I’m here for it. “Yes. Amazing what a wet wipe and a little ChapStick can do for a person’s morale.” She extends her hands toward the fire with a smile. “This is so nice. I always struggle to get a fire going when I camp.”
“Boy Scout,” I confess. “One who was really obsessed with s’mores and wasn’t about to miss a chance to get sticky before lights out.”
“Cute.” Her smile widens, making the dimple in her right cheek pop and smile lines crinkle around her eyes.
Fuck, her smile…
It lights up the dark every bit as much as the fire. It’s such a nice change.
I haven’t seen Darcy smile in so long. No matter how hard I try, it seems my girlfriend is always upset with me. Mostly because I’m not ready to move in together, and I’m especially not ready to let her twin sister come along for the ride.
Daria is, to put it nicely, difficult. Very difficult. After spending every day fighting for my clients, the last thing I want is conflict in my home. But Darcy refuses to see her sister’s shortcomings or admit that we haven’t been having fun together for a long time.
Bottom line, Darcy and I aren’t meant to be. We’re too different. I should have ended things in August when she announced she wasn’t up for Thanksgiving with the McGuires. She said it would be too overwhelming and she’d prefer to spend the holiday with her more “reasonably sized” family instead of dividing our time between her parents’ house and mine.
But my family is my family. Yes, there are a ridiculous number of them and they’re loud and nosy and we’re packed in like sardines at every holiday, but they’re mine, and I love them. A woman who can’t embrace my family isn’t the woman for me.
My mind involuntarily turns back to Tessa and how much she clearly enjoys a big, crazy McGuire family gathering. Last summer, she dove into the fun at our annual lake party with the same abandon as the rest of my siblings, and she and Melissa are so close, they’re already like sisters.
“So, what do we have here?” Tessa asks, shooting a suspect look at the pot and pan in front of me.
“Stir-fry and rice,” I say, motioning to the small plastic container of brown liquid I’m reserving until the end. “And a homemade honey sesame sauce I made myself. There should be plenty for both of us. I always overpack when it comes to food. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
“And my stomach is a spoiled brat,” Tessa says, shifting closer and nudging my hip with hers. “Scootch, mister. Let a professional take over before you burn the rice and ruin that stir-fry pan.”
I surrender my spatula with a soft laugh, not minding her sitting this close. Not minding it one bit. “Just like Melissa.”
Tessa sighs and shrugs. “Sorry. We’re chefs and control freaks. We can’t help it.” She turns back to the rice pot. She scrapes at the bottom and turns down the heat on the stove, muttering something beneath her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she says, her dimple popping again.
“No, you have to tell me. If you mutter it, you have to repeat it if asked. Those are the rules.”
“Oh yeah?” She laughs. “Good to know. I just said that I’ve also heard that you’re a terrible cook.”
I huff. “I am not.”
“Mel said you’ve given her food poisoning three times.”
My jaw drops. “I have not. And she comes over for fancy grilled cheese at my place at least once a month. She loves my grilled cheese.”
“She lets you cook grilled cheese because it doesn’t have any raw ingredients that might kill her if you don’t cook them properly.” She winces sympathetically. “Sorry. I’m a truth-teller. It’s a problem. Part of the reason I have very few close friends.”
I frown. “I doubt that.”
“No, it’s true. Most people don’t like a truth-teller.” She wrinkles her nose. “And I’m so busy with work and plotting my epic hike summer after next, I don’t have a lot of time to get out and socialize.”
Intrigued, I ask, “Epic hike. Sounds exciting. Where are you headed?”
“The Appalachian Trail on the East Coast. I’ve wanted to hike it my entire life, ever since I read about it in my dad’s nature books when I was a kid. I’m not going to do the entire twenty-two hundred miles, obviously, since I can only take two weeks off, but I figure I’ll get a good chunk of it done.” Her smile fades. “Though after today, hiking alone doesn’t sound like the most fun.”