Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I did on Tuesday,” I answered, scrolling through my folders to open the one I kept just for Sutton. Her pink hat and gloves were always a fun contrast against the snow. She was getting braver up there with Weston, taking bigger jumps, choosing harder lines. “She’s getting…”
“Good?” he teased, cracking the top on one of the bottles and putting it down in front of me. The fact that he knew my hands ached after taking pictures all morning and editing them all afternoon was just another reason to love him.
There were too many reasons.
“Reckless,” I countered. “Just like you.”
“I take full credit.” He laughed. “I could always have Theo take over her training.”
I scoffed and clicked through the pictures. “He’s just as reckless. You and your best friend are quite the match made in heaven.”
“Hey, it’s not reckless if you’re skilled, baby.” He flashed me a grin.
I rolled my eyes but flushed at the endearment. It made me want to shout from the top of the mountain that he was mine and I was his, but there was still Sutton to think about. She adored Weston, loved having him coach her, too, and if something went wrong between us, she’d be devastated.
Loving Weston meant knowing I’d be heartbroken eventually, but I couldn’t accept the same fate for Sutton.
“Skill isn’t luck,” I muttered as the front door opened hard, blowing into the doorstop.
Both Weston and I looked over. What the hell?
“Hi!” Sutton stumbled through the door with an enormous cage in her arms.
“Oh, merciful God,” I whispered, pushing back from the table to stand, but Weston was across the room before I’d even gotten my feet under me.
He plucked the plastic-bottomed cage out of her grip with one arm and caught her with the other, saving her from a face-plant on the tile.
“What is that?” I squawked, my voice pitching opera high.
Weston steadied Sutton, then carried the cage to the dining room table and set it down on the surface. “It looks like a gerbil.”
“Guinea pig, actually.” Sutton stripped out of her coat and boots, hanging them in the closet like it was no big deal that she’d just brought a guinea pig home.
I sent my daughter a glare for good measure, and then my gaze flew to Weston to gauge his reaction.
He’d stepped back from the cage and crossed his arms over his chest. The man was a master at being unreadable sometimes.
“And why, dear daughter, is there a guinea pig in my house?” I asked, my voice dropping to the I-mean-business tone.
“His name is Wilbur, and he’s our class pet.” She brushed the remnants of this morning’s French braid out of her face.
“Still not an answer to my question.” I put myself in between her and Wilbur. “That’s a direct violation of rule eleven!” My arm swung as I pointed in the direction of the contract on our refrigerator. I was soooo not mentioning all the rules Weston and I had already broken.
“It was Piper’s weekend to take Wilbur, but she got sick, so I said he could stay with us,” Sutton replied, her chin lifting in a manner I knew all too well.
“You didn’t even ask,” I retorted, trying like hell to keep my cool. “It’s not just you and me here, kid.”
“Weston won’t care.” Sutton turned those big eyes on him. “Right? I mean, I know you said no pets, but it’s just the weekend, and I can keep him in my room.”
Weston’s gaze jumped between Sutton and me like the conversation was a ball in a tennis match. “Not getting in the middle of this.” He put his hands up.
“You couldn’t have called and asked?” What the hell was the solution here?
“We didn’t realize it until the end of the day, and I didn’t want him left all alone at school over the long weekend.” She pressed her lips in a thin line.
“The long weekend.” Right. Because I’d forgotten it was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day on Monday.
Sutton nodded.
“Did you know about this yesterday? Is this why you asked if Halley could pick you up?” I stared her down.
“No!” She shook her head vehemently. “I swear. That was just…luck.” She shrugged.
“Because you knew I’d say no.”
Sutton’s gaze hit the floor and she nodded slowly. “I just didn’t want him to be alone.”
The pig chose that moment to scurry though his box, sending wood shavings flying all over the dining room table. Weston was going to melt down.
I looked over at him to find that he was already watching me. “It’s your rule,” I said softly. “I’ll call every single guardian on the PTA roster and find him another home for the weekend.”
“Mom!” Sutton whined. “It’s just three days. Well, three and a half. Please don’t make me the weird kid who can’t have a guinea pig for three days.”