Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Who’s up?” Dad asks, and Mason and Rory play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who gets to go on the tube once more. Rory wins, and I’m pretty sure Mason let her. We’re all big softies when it comes to our little sister, even though she drove us crazy when we were kids.
The gray clouds look like they’re starting to clear up when Rory climbs back onto the boat, but the radar tells a different story, and I’d rather not get caught in a thunderstorm on the water. The boat ramp will most definitely be all backed up by then, with people clambering to get loaded up and out of the storm.
I pop the top on my third beer—I’m not driving or anything—and sit next to Rory in the back of the boat. I don’t drink very often, both because of being on-call throughout the week, and because I’ve gotten pretty damn dedicated to working out this past year. It’s been a good distraction and the perfect way to blow off steam when I have a rough day at work.
“I don’t even like beer but that looks good,” she huffs.
“Can’t you have a little?” I ask.
“I can, and I had like half a glass of wine the other night that pretty much made me drunk,” she laughs. “I’m going to nurse Adam as soon as we’re home, so no booze for me. My boobs hurt.”
“But they look good.” Dean playfully elbows her, and she giggles.
Taking a long drink of beer, I lean back and enjoy the breeze on my face as the boat gets going. It’s hotter than hell out here, and with the storm approaching, it’s getting humid. The sun is still beating down on us for now, and once we hit the fishing area of the lake, the heat will get to us all, I’m sure.
“You going to see your girlfriend later?” Mason asks Jacob.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, dumbass.” Jacob finishing his drink and tosses the empty bottle into the little recycling bin we have on board.
“Ah, right. Mr. Ed is your boyfriend.”
“Hilarious,” Jacob deadpans, knowing his lack of reaction will only piss Mason off even more.
“Are you dating anyone?” Rory asks, trying to come off as casual. “I have some single friends if not.”
“No,” Jacob tells her. “You are not setting me up with anyone, and don’t all your friends live in Indiana by you now?”
“Yeah, but maybe you’ll fall so madly in love you’ll want to move!”
Jacob cocks an eyebrow. “And leave my own practice? She could come here instead.”
“Maybe, but you’ll never know if you don’t get out there and try.”
Jacob looks at me and sighs. “They’re both still single too, you know.”
“Yeah,” Rory agrees. “But I’m going with the brother I have the best odds to match someone to. Mason is, well, Mason, and Sam is getting old yet refuses to believe it.”
“I’m the same age as your husband,” I remind her.
Rory looks at Dean, making a face as she slowly nods. “I know, and trust, me, I remind him all the time how lucky he is to snag a younger woman.”
“So much younger,” Dean says dryly as he puts his arm around Rory. “And I’m going to risk siding with your brothers for once,” he goes on, looking at Rory. “Quinn used to try to set me up all the time and it was annoying,” he says, speaking about his own sister. “Really annoying.”
“Fine,” Rory huffs. Yawning, she rests her head against Dean’s shoulder. I slowly drink my beer, watching the lake whiz by, and the hot air slaps us in the face when we slow to make our way through the other part of the lake.
Rory pokes me, getting my attention. She points to a coastal-style house along the lake. It has a private dock, and a woman is lying out on it, long legs stretched out on her lounge chair. Her dark red hair is gathered up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she has a book open over her face, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“I think that’s Chloe!” Rory whispers, though there’s no way the woman on the dock can hear us…I think. Almost choking on the mouthful of beer I just took, I cough, sputtering to turn and inconspicuously stare at the woman on the dock.
It is her. It has to be. And—fuck—even from here, I can tell time has done Chloe well.
“What makes you think that?” Dean asks, thankfully since I’m still not able to find my voice.
“Her dad lives in that house,” Rory says, continuing to whisper. “She bought it for him a few years ago.”
Right as we’re passing by, Chloe sits up, blinking in the bright sunlight. My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I don’t know what I want more: for her to look our way or completely ignore us. She reaches down and picks up her sunglasses from the dock and puts them on. She’s smiling, I can tell from here, and stands, bringing her phone to her ear.