Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Whoa. Where is it?” I follow along her raised arm to a sprawling pine tree. On a tall branch sits a bird of prey.
“That’s a red-tailed hawk,” I tell her. I know a lot more about ornithology than I do about building dams.
“I want to see it,” she says eagerly, then stares up at me. “You’re tall. Can you lift me up?”
“Sure.” I give her a boost, lifting her high so she can crane her neck for a view of the bird.
“Can it do any tricks?”
“Is soaring in the air a trick?”
“Flying is cool.”
“Is capturing prey a trick?”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Uh-oh. What if the dam makes it easy for the hawk to catch fish?”
I set her back on her feet. “Then I think it may be time—”
“Double agents!” Pearl cheers and scurries back to the stream, where she dismantles the dam in seconds. “There. The double agents have saved the fish,” she declares.
Can I laugh? Maybe? But how do I know what hurts a kid’s feelings?
“That might call for an ice cream,” I suggest instead, wondering if River has tempted her to the dark side yet.
The kid wrinkles her nose, so I guess not. “I don’t like ice cream.”
I snort. “Said no one ever.”
She laughs, and I do too, without even thinking about it.
Look at that. I helped build a dam, I talked about birds, and made her laugh. Pearl isn’t some alien creature who hates me on sight. She’s a clever, bossy little person who likes to stay busy, and I can handle that.
“I swear I don’t,” she says about the ice cream. “River got me to taste it, but I didn’t like it.”
“What do you like, then? Like, for a snack.”
“Chips. Popcorn,” she says as she walks along the edge of the stream. “Pretzels too, but you can forget peanuts because gross.”
“Ah, you’re a savory then.”
She stops, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What’s that?”
“It means you prefer salty food to sweet,” I tell her.
Pearl smiles. “That’s why I don’t like ice cream. I’m a savory. You figured it out!”
Like a Tasmanian devil, the seven-year-old rushes toward the porch, stops in front of her parents, then points at me. “He says I’m a savory!”
I drop my head in my hands, laughing.
A few seconds later, I look up to see Grant walking down the hill toward me. He stops a foot away, wearing a fantastic smile.
Maybe, possibly, it matches mine.
28
Grant
After River and I catch up on plans for The Lazy Hammock, I hunt for Declan to see if he’s ready to take off.
As I turn into the big kitchen, I see Reese standing at the kitchen window. Before I can ask if she’s seen Declan, she motions silently for me to join her.
Curious, I close the distance and stand next to her. She points to where the backyard falls toward a stream that circles the property.
“Look,” she stage-whispers.
I do, and my gaze lands on my broad-shouldered, six-foot-three boyfriend. He’s lifting Owen’s pip-squeak of a niece up high, giving her a bird’s-eye view of something in a tree.
My smile stretches from here to Hawaii. “Check that out.”
“Damn,” Reese says with an appreciative sigh. “Is there anything hotter than a guy you love being good with kids?”
She’s probably right, but at the moment, Declan’s just hot.
Hell, he’s hot at every moment—when his hair is a wild mess in the mornings, when he’s sweaty after a game. When he’s asleep and when he’s awake. When he curls up next to me on the couch. When he makes me sandwiches. When we go for a walk.
That man is fine, but also, I’ve seen beyond his looks. I know how brave and strong he is, how vulnerable and kind, how supportive and funny and fearless. I know how much he gives of himself to me—more than he realizes—and how he does it to make me happy.
He wants all the good things in the world for me.
With him, though I have so much more than I ever imagined. I have everything and then some.
“He looks good with kids, but he always looks good,” I say, with a happy hum as I drink in the sight of the guy I love.
“I feel that way about Holden too.” Reese leans her head on my shoulder, her blonde locks spilling across my polo shirt. “When you find the right person, you just know.”
“Truer words.”
Reese lifts her head, and we lock eyes. “Look at us, Grant—at how far we’ve come. Remember when we were younger? Hanging out, listening to music, being all emo and trying to figure out life—why my dad had left and why your parents were so messed up.”
“I can picture it well.” But I don’t feel the same sadness or angst. Our childhoods weren’t the best, but Reese and I both made it to the other side. “I especially remember you and me.” I set my hand on her shoulder. “I remember that we got each other through the hard times.”