Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
As long as he didn’t remember who I was, I was good.
How could I not be, with this spectacular sunset. Sweet Jesus, the sky was stunning. Purple, blood orange, and pink. With the water turning teal.
Aside from the muted sound of me wheeling my rollaboard along the boardwalk, everything was silent. The nocturnal wilderness hadn’t risen yet, I didn’t feel a single breeze, and the water was almost completely still.
The other houses we passed were the same as Ty’s house, but his porch looked better because of the succulent garden. Everyone had a grill and the occasional plant, a seating area too, but it was clear snowbirds owned these houses. Shutters were closed, patio furniture was stacked together, and no lights were on.
Soon, we passed the last house, and the boardwalk’s lights were kinda dim.
“You did good at Mrs. Blum’s house today.”
He speaks!
“Thank you. It was fun. I hope there will be a next time.”
He smiled half a smile. It seemed to be his thing around me. More often than not, he offered faint smirks, faint grins, faint smiles.
“What do you do when you’re not volunteerin’ to rescue pets?” he asked.
I worked with my cousin, so let’s not go there.
“Family business,” I replied vaguely. “I answer emails, manage a web shop, and do some minor PR.”
Corey was a brilliant illustrator. Unfortunately, he’d reached fame with a comic strip where he needed approximately none of his skills. It was more cartoonlike and simple, but it’d earned him millions of followers on Twitter—and Instagram, actually—so I guessed I should add social media relations to my list of tasks.
“I see. In what field?” Ty wondered.
I scratched my jaw. How far could I stretch the truth? To be specific, Corey drew neurodiverse dinosaurs and applied humor and truths on disorders like autism and ADHD. He pointed a spotlight at our everyday problems, big and small, and started conversations.
“I guess it’s a combination,” I answered. “A little bit of pop culture, a little bit of modern art. I work as a promoter of sorts.”
As it turned out, I could stretch the truth pretty fucking far.
Corey would be mortified that I called his dinosaur illustrations modern art. But hey, they were popular as all hell. Special ed teachers, parents, and children adored his comic strip, and we were constantly selling out of the various merchandise items I made available.
Ty hummed.
I could see the little marina up ahead. And marina was probably the wrong word. A long row of smaller boats that were docked to the boardwalk.
At this point, we had nothing but mangrove forest on our left. The water to the right.
“I was hopin’ you’d say server at my local steakhouse or barista at the corner coffee shop,” he admitted.
Fuck. Because he was certain he recognized me from somewhere.
“Maybe I resemble someone you know?” I shrugged.
I was scum.
“Maybe.” He wasn’t convinced. Then he cleared his throat and nodded up ahead. “Third boat’s mine.”
I followed his gaze. Third boat—impressive. Ty wasn’t a yacht person, far from it, so I’d expected something modest. And maybe this bowrider was, but it was still beautiful and appeared to be fairly new.
Once we reached The Delia, he grabbed my luggage for me and climbed on board.
It was practically an oversized speedboat.
“It ain’t much, but I think you’ll be comfortable here,” he said.
It looked like plenty to me. Nice seating area, a small sundeck, and then whatever he was about to show me below. He led the way down a few narrow steps, and he had to duck to enter the cabin. I did not.
He flicked on the lights, which consisted of countless tiny spotlights embedded in the walls and ceiling. Definitely a newer boat. Holy hell, I was in love. I could freaking live here. Yeah, sure, tight fit, but I didn’t care.
I could tell the bed he’d already made was a dining area; there was no private spot for a sleeping quarter. Not that I cared about that either. The space had everything I could need. Small kitchenette with two stovetops, a fridge, a sink, and some cupboards. A generous-sized bed. Macklin and I would be more than comfortable. And last but not least, a bathroom we weren’t gonna use. That would just give Ty unnecessary work.
I glanced around me and smiled. One thing I loved about boats was all the storage spaces. Boat designers had to be creative and smart, utilizing every square inch possible.
“This will be perfect,” I said. “If I had a boat like this, I’d probably sell my condo.”
He chuckled. “It was my gift to myself when I retired from the Air Force. It’s possible I spend more time here than at the house when I’m here alone.”
“Can’t blame you.” I squeezed by him to get to the bed, where I sat down and parked my luggage. Hell, this mattress was softer than I’d thought it would be. “Shit, this is the dream. Imagine waking up in the middle of the sound, all quiet and peaceful, maybe reel in a fish or two for breakfast…”