Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“I’m going to be on the road, off and on, Lissa. Not to mention practices . . .”
“If you need to rent the room to a nanny, that’s fine. I totally understand.” Tallulah traded a conspiratorial wink with Lissa. “Lissa and I can still have a park date or two.”
Lissa’s spine snapped straight. “Unless you want to be my nanny.”
There was a tremendous amount of kicking happening beneath the table.
Wells wondered if the women knew he and Burgess could see all of it.
“I-I guess . . . I mean, that would depend on what it entails . . . ,” stuttered Tallulah.
“Fifteen hundred a week. Free room and board.” Oblivious to the fact that Tallulah’s mouth had dropped open, Burgess continued without ever once looking at Tallulah. “I wouldn’t expect you there every second of the day, just mornings, evenings.” He shifted in his seat. “Through the night. Especially while I’m not there, of course.”
“Of course,” Tallulah said quickly, she and Josephine trading some silent girl communication with their eyes, lips moving imperceptibly. Wells could only watch in fascination. “I’ll be home most nights anyway, since I’ll be studying. But I’ll need to negotiate at least two nights for social activity.”
Burgess squinted at her. “As in?”
“Partying, of course. Life can’t be all work and no play,” Tallulah said brightly. “Mornings are no problem. If my terms are acceptable, I’m . . . not sure I can say no to the offer.”
“Fine,” Burgess boomed. “Done.”
Lissa clapped her hands.
Tallulah very discreetly sipped her wine while checking out Burgess’s biceps.
Wells and Josephine turned to stare at each other.
What the hell had just happened?
Any why was . . . Josephine suddenly rocking in her seat?
Not just rocking, but kind of . . . shimmying.
Dancing.
She was dancing.
Spine snapping straight, Wells desperately tried to dig through the restaurant din to unearth the song that was playing. “California Girls.” But not the one by Katy Perry.
Tallulah let out a hoot. “Oh, they knew you were coming, Joey!”
“Holy shit.” Wells fell back in his chair. “The Beach Boys?”
“My grandparents used to play this on vinyl when I was little and went to visit. It’s in my bones,” Josephine said, wincing, but still dancing. “I’m sorry for what you’re about to witness.”
Wells grinned. “I’m not.”
Tallulah grabbed Josephine by the wrist and hauled her toward a space between tables that was decidedly not a floor designated for dancing, but they were obviously determined to make it one. Both of the women gestured enthusiastically for Lissa to join them. When the eleven-year-old responded by bounding out to turn the duo into a trio, Burgess couldn’t seem to hide his shock. In no time, Lissa was stepping side to side between Josephine and Tallulah, if a little self-consciously.
The Beach Boys.
A little old-fashioned, uplifting, positive, revolutionary, warm.
It fit Josephine so well, he should have guessed it before.
“Wow. Look at you. You’re a goner,” Burgess remarked into his beer.
“I’m well past gone, man.” Wells managed to tear his eyes off a joyful Josephine long enough to spear the hockey player with a look. “Looks like you’re headed in the same direction. Enjoy the trip.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The only part of your new nanny you’re supposed to check out are her references.”
Burgess seemed to realize he was staring at Josephine’s friend and ripped his gaze downward, growling into his beer. “She’s too young for me. Probably . . . eight? Ten years?”
“Yup.”
“Look, I play hockey, I raise Lissa, I stay home. I don’t people watch. I definitely don’t party,” he spat, like the very idea was laughable. “She’ll probably have a boyfriend—her age—before she’s fully moved into my place.”
“Okay.”
Burgess bared his teeth. “Stop giving me one-word responses.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I don’t know what the redhead sees in you.”
Wells laughed. Just let the happiness escape him in the form of a sound without trying to smother or temper it and Josephine met his eyes, her own softening at the sight of him enjoying himself. “Me either, man, but I’m not questioning it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
They finished in eighth place at Torrey Pines with five under par.
Out of 128 golfers.
Not too shabby. Especially when Josephine did the math on 50 percent of those winnings, got overwhelmed by the six figures of it all, and immediately attempted to give it all back while they packed their suitcases to return to Florida.
“It’s too much, Wells. I can’t accept it,” she called through their open adjoining doors.
His chuckle drifted into her room. “You can.”
“No, thank you.”
“You have two options, belle. Take the money you earned. Or leave it with me and watch in horror as I spend it on you in the most frivolous ways.”
Josephine paused in the act of sliding her toothbrush into her toiletries case. “Such as?”
“A skywriter comes to mind. Just think, you could see ‘Wells’s Belle’ written in the clouds over your apartment building every day for a month. That’s one option.” He wasn’t finished. “Maybe instead of buying every kind of bubble bath they sell at Bath and Body Works, I’ll just buy you a whole franchise. Maybe a private concert from the Beach Boys—a cover band, at the very least. You want to hear more possibilities?”