Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Her eyes go wide. “No. You can’t be serious.”
I hold out my arm with my smart watch and tap the face so it lights up. “It’s five thirty-eight.”
“I’ve been floating for nearly six hours. I don’t understand how I got here. I don’t even know what side of the lake here is.”
Pearl Lake is a lot smaller than Lake Geneva, but it’s still a lot of water to cover on a paddleboard. “You’re on the north side.”
“The north side? Yeesh.”
“Where’s your cottage?”
“In Pearl Bay, on the south side of the lake.”
“You wanna use my phone to call someone? A boyfriend maybe?” I’m totally fishing.
“That was subtle.” She arches a brow and gives me a wry grin. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That’s excellent news. I don’t have a girlfriend, in case you were wondering. And my name is Maverick.” I extend my hand.
She blinks. “Maverick? Is that a nickname or a given name?”
“Given. And surprisingly, my parents aren’t hippies.”
“Did your mom like Top Gun or something?” She slips her hand into my palm.
I watch as goose bumps rise along both of our arms. “Actually yeah, she did. At least until Tom Cruise sort of . . . went out of style.” I reluctantly release her hand.
“Ah, well, that’s fair. I’m Clover.” She dips her head, and if her cheeks weren’t already pink with too much sun, I’d guess she was blushing. “And my parents were absolutely hippies. Please don’t make a joke about four leaves and being lucky.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Clover-without-a-boyfriend.”
We smile at each other for a few seconds. She’s definitely older. Maybe mid-twenties. My size makes me look a little older than I am, and so does the fact that by the end of the day I have a hint of shadow on my cheeks, unlike my older brother, Robbie, who can still get away with shaving twice a week.
“Can I get you a bottle of water? Or a soda? You must be parched.” I flip open the cooler and rummage around, setting cans on the arm of my Adirondack chair.
“Water would be amazing. Thank you.” She plucks a bottle from between two cans of soda and then looks up toward the cottage set back on the hill behind us. “Oh wow. Are you renting this place?”
“My aunt and uncle own it.”
“Wow.” She lets out a low whistle. “What are they, movie stars or something?” She cringes. “Sorry, that was so rude.”
“My uncle’s a retired NHL player.”
“Oh yeah? There are a lot of those guys on the lake, aren’t there?” She drains half of the bottle in three long gulps.
“Seems that way. Do you watch hockey?” I ask.
She gives me a somewhat embarrassed smile and glances at the dock where her book is sitting, slightly wet and still in the baggie. “I’m more of a reader than a TV watcher.”
That’s when I realize the cover of the book has a shirtless dude holding a hockey stick on it. “I play hockey,” I inform her.
Her eyes flare. “Professionally?”
“No. Not yet anyway.”
“You’re very athletic. Hockey players have great stamina.” Her eyes lift to mine. “At least that’s what I’ve read.”
“I’d say it’s an accurate assessment.” I nod to the chairs. “Do you wanna sit?” On my face?
She glances at the chair and then at the sun, which is slowly making its way toward the horizon. “I do. Absolutely. But it’s probably going to take me a while to paddle back to my place.”
“I can drive you, if you want. I’ve got a truck. We can put your paddleboard in the back.”
She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. “That’s nice of you to offer, but, uh, I’m sort of in the don’t-take-rides-from-strangers camp.”
“As someone with a younger sister, I can totally appreciate that stance. There’s a beach party later tonight. Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I think I’d like that.” She takes another long gulp of her water. “I should probably get going.”
“Here.” I pass her my T-shirt. “Why don’t you take this? It’ll keep you from turning into a beet.”
“Are you sure? Aren’t you going to need it?”
“Nah. I’m good like this.” I run a hand over my chest.
“Not gonna argue with that.” She pulls my shirt over her head. It’s so long it hits her mid-thigh. She ties a knot on the side, presumably so she doesn’t end up with another bad tan line.
I help her get back on the paddleboard and send her off, hoping I’m going to run into her again.
And I’m not disappointed, because a few hours later, I find her on the beach. Kody bailed on the party, and BJ is already being chatted up, so I take the opportunity for what it is. “You want to sit on the pier, away from the noise?” There’s a huge bonfire, but it’s loud and rowdy. The pier is quiet and calm.