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)
Swishing my feet in the water, I peer down, always a little afraid someone is going to grab me and pull me under. The water is rather shallow at this part of the lake, thanks to a dry summer. If someone was lurking beneath the surface, they’d have to be hiding in the seaweed to stay out of view.
Freaking myself out, I pull my feet from the water, wipe sweat from my forehead, and eat the rest of my pancakes and bacon. I planned to only have half and then eat the rest for lunch, and I feel sickly full by the time I’m done.
After half an hour of sitting at my computer feeling like I’m going to fall asleep, I drink a third cup of coffee and give up when that doesn’t do the trick. I lie down on the couch, expecting to fall asleep quickly since I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open while writing. Of course, the coffee kicks in now, and I’m getting anxious.
I get up, stretch, and change back into my workout clothes. A run will get my blood pumping and adrenaline flowing, which is vital when I’m writing the fight scene that is coming up in my manuscript. I pull the hair tie from my hair, flip my head upside down, and try to smooth out my ponytail the best I can. Then I grab my headphones, phone, and head outside, leaving through the front door. I double-check that the deadbolt is locked so I won’t worry about serial killers sneaking inside while I’m out. I took the key from Dad’s keyring, and then realize the workout pants I’m wearing don’t have pockets. I could slip the key in my bra, but it’s hot, I’ll be sweaty, and that’s just really uncomfortable. Instead, I hide the key on Wendy’s porch. If anyone finds it, they’ll assume it’s for her house.
Turning up my music, I start off jogging down the road, not stopping until I reach the entrance to the trail in the woods. It’s cooler in the shade, and I slow, not too worried about burning calories but more about clearing my head and feeling more awake when I get back to the house.
The trails are fairly busy today, and I’m sure the picnic shelter is full. I pick up the pace again, wanting to get ten thousand steps in, which I haven’t done in a while. The trail forks, with one direction taking you to the picnic area and the other going along the side of the lake. It’s a popular trail for birdwatchers, and more and more bald eagles have been returning every year, according to Dad.
The trail has eroded a lot since I last walked it, and you’d fall and roll down a steep hill before splashing into the lake. Well, that’s if you’re lucky. I slow and look down at the rocky shore, which is another reason this is the “quiet part” of the lake. There are lots of rocks hidden just below the surface of the water, and when the water level is higher than it is now, you don’t see them until it’s too late.
Thinking I see a bald eagle, I inch to the edge of the path, narrowing my eyes as I squint into the sun. Opening my camera on my phone, I hold on to a tree and lean forward to get a picture of the eagle.
My music is still blaring in my ears. I can’t hear what’s going on around me, but I sense someone behind me. I jerk my head to the side and am startled to see Sam standing just inches from me. I jump, drop my phone, which pulls my headphones out of my ears and start to slip down the steep hill.
Sam lunges forward and grabs me around the waist, effortlessly pulling me to him. My hands land on his shoulders, and he spins me around, putting me safely back on the trail. My breath leaves my lungs in a huff, and my lips part as I try to process what just happened.
“Are you okay?” Sam asks.
“I’m…I’m…” I’m tight in Sam’s embrace, his large hands still clasped around my waist. His skin is warm beneath my fingers and sweat glistens on his tan skin. He’s shirtless, wearing only athletic shorts. I thought Sam was muscular before, but seeing him without his shirt…this is doing bad, bad things to me. “Are you stalking me?”
“I—what—no. You should be thanking me.”
I inhale, breasts pressing against Sam’s firm chest as I breathe. I’m fine, steady on my feet. I should push him away. He should let me go. Yet we’re both standing here, neither wanting to make the first move and separate.
“Thanking you for sneaking up on me?” I try.
Sam’s fingers press into me. “I was calling your name. You shouldn’t have your music so loud you can’t hear anything around you.”