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)
We kept the earrings, photographs, and delicate champagne glasses as mementos of our first find. We sold the vintage baseball cards and first edition of The Catcher in the Rye for a startling amount of cash.
And when I say startling, I mean enough to fund our Appalachian Trail adventure three weeks ago and buy the food truck I plan to turn into my full-time gig by next summer. And we still had enough left over for each of us to have five hundred dollars to spend on something nice for the house.
Wes moved in with me just a few weeks after our camping trip, and we couldn’t be happier. Especially since he spent his five hundred dollars constructing a gorgeous brick pizza oven on my back patio. We made wood-grilled pizza all summer, experimenting with new toppings and dough recipes while Freya played in the yard.
Soon, we’ll be able to end magical autumn nights by our brick oven with a visit to the sex swing in our bedroom…
Christian was nice enough to install it for me on the down-low this morning, while Wes and I were out buying drinks for the party before heading to the lake. Christian isn’t the most discreet McGuire brother, but he’s great with tools, and Wes has enough dirt on him that we can trust him to keep his mouth shut about our swing.
After all, we’ve kept our mouths shut about his sun goddess thing with Starling and the time Wes had to go let a naked Christian and Starling out of their shed after a tree fell across the entrance while they were playing “Love in a Zombie-Apocalypse Fallout Shelter.” (Weird, but whatever floats their boat. After all the hair-pulling and spanking Wes and I get up to on a regular basis, I’m certainly in no position to judge. And the handcuffs and blindfold… And the thing he did with ice cubes on a particularly steamy evening last week…)
I shiver as I blow him a kiss and leap off the end of the boat, grateful for the cool water closing over my head. I need something to cool me off or I’m never going to make it the next four hours until we head for home.
Over at the Pool Noodle Peril obstacle course and battle station, I pull myself up on the floating dock beside Melissa, who is wearing a nearly identical one-piece to mine, though hers is blue and allegedly still maternity wear. She’s only four weeks postpartum, but looks incredible. Aside from her much larger than normal breasts, I would never guess that she’d just had a baby.
But little Jonah James Boudreaux is currently napping in the shade with his grandmother on the largest pontoon, oblivious to the fact that his mother is about to defend her Pool Noodle Peril title just a dozen yards away.
“Don’t be scared,” she says, grinning like the shark she is as we pick our noodles from the garbage bin full of long foam floaties. “I’m not in peak condition. Jonah still isn’t sleeping through the night, and I was up feeding him at four this morning. There’s a chance you might actually move on to the semi-finals this year.”
I laugh and nudge her hip with mine. “Right. And pigs are going to fly out of my ass.”
“Pippa Jane is way too big to fly out of anyone’s ass. And she doesn’t have wings,” she says, her eyes dancing. “Just know I love you and kicking your sweet bottom is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you.”
“Right,” I say, laughing as Binx blows the airhorn to start the next bout and Melissa and I jump into the water, swimming hard toward the first obstacle while batting at each other with our noodles.
I hold my own across the water trampoline—even managing to bounce Mel off her feet once—but by the time we reach the rope swing and the floating foam lily pads on the other side, Mel is pulling ahead. When she bats me off the second lily pad with her noodle, sending me crashing into the water, I know it’s over, but I don’t give up. I pull myself up onto the diving board dock and hurry after her, crossing the finish line a mere fifteen seconds after the reigning champion.
Once we’ve both swum back to Binx’s boat and wrapped up in towels, Mel pulls me in for a damp hug. “Sorry, pumpkin. You know I love you.”
I return the hug. “Love you, too. Even though you’re filled with pool noodle blood lust.”
She giggles maniacally. “I really am.”
“Good job, Mommy!” Chase shouts from where he’s waiting in line for the shorter diving board on the other side of the boat with his stepdad, Aaron. “You kicked booty!”
Mel waves at him, but instead of moving to rejoin her family, she turns to me, catching my elbow. She lowers her voice, her smile fading as she whispers, “Hey, can we chat for a second?”