Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Not Beth, though. She was quite happy and content in her tiny, twee house, with its quaint courtyard, and overgrown goldfish pond.
Beth’s spirits lifted when she spotted Lucy Reeves sitting on one of the pool recliners. Lucy was someone with whom she felt comfortable. Laidback and easy to talk to, she didn’t push Beth to make conversation and didn’t see the need to fill in the silence with meaningless chatter.
Beth excused herself from the crowd seated around the patio table, and sat down on the empty recliner beside Lucy. Beth was wearing a short, halter neck, black and white polka dot sundress and kept her knees together and her legs folded to the side.
“Hey girl,” Lucy murmured, looking, and sounding characteristically mellow. Lucy was wearing loose khaki paperbag trousers and a white t-shirt with a bedazzled hand flipping the bird and an invitation to Eat This in glittery blue beneath it.
“Hi.”
“I heard about your little birdie. I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in Lucy’s voice nearly unraveled Beth’s resolve to stay strong this evening. She cleared away the hoarseness from her throat and blinked back those ever-lurking tears.
“Thanks, Luce.” She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, folding it into a fan before smoothing her palm over it, only to fold it again. “You weren’t at the party last night.”
“Aah, yeah. You know that’s not my scene, man. All those corporate types that Cam works with.” Lucy shuddered exaggeratedly and took a sip of wine before eyeing Beth’s empty hands askance. “Not drinking tonight?”
“Uh, no. I overindulged last night. I can’t remember the last time I got so wasted.” Or the last time she’d done something so dumb.
“Well, it was to be expected, right? You had a bad day.”
Again, that sting of tears. Damn it. This sucked.
“I did.”
“Then you’re allowed.”
“I suppose so.”
“And I see you and—what did you call him once?—Satan’s spawn are playing nice tonight,” Lucy said with a chuckle, her eyes drifting toward where Gideon was laughing at something Zane had said.
“You know we call a truce for the unavoidable framily events.”
Framily was the portmanteau they often used to describe their close-knit group.
Beth toed off her wedge sandals and swung her legs onto the recliner. She folded her arms over her stomach and lay back to stare up at the sky. The sun would be setting soon, but because there were no clouds, the sky was still a deep, azure blue. No dramatic streaks of orange or pink or crimson. Just an ever-darkening blue. Because of the heat, everybody had brought their bathing suits and there was already a couple floating in the pool. Beth peered at them, recognizing Cat’s cousin, Kylie, but not the guy with her.
“Who’s that with Kylie?”
“Her new boy.”
“Another one?” This would be Kylie’s fourth new boyfriend in as many months. Beth, who could barely meet men on dating apps, wasn’t sure where Kylie found this seemingly endless supply of single guys.
“Hmm, I think he’s a bartender at her favorite club or something.”
Aah, of course. Kylie wasn’t as picky as Beth. Beth was looking for a fellow professional, while Kylie would happily date an unemployed student…if he was cute.
Beth sighed and refocused her attention on the sky. It was easier to zone out that way. Lucy was so chill, talking always seemed like too much effort for her, and Beth found her quiet company agreeably undemanding.
A large hand entered her field of vision, about a meter above her face. The very familiar hand was holding a stemmed, frosty glass, which contained a yummy looking yellow and red drink. A drop of condensation slid down the curved surface of the glass and landed between her eyes with a barely discernible plop. The icy water stole her breath and resulted in a full body shiver. The shock of cold raised goosebumps along her arms, and beaded her nipples. They were instantly visible through the thin fabric of her cotton dress. Worse, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that fact would now be evident to even the most casual observer. Luckily nobody was close enough to notice, except for the man attached to the hand holding that drink. His eyes had zeroed in on her hardening nipples immediately.
Beth sat up self-consciously and crossed her arms over her chest. The act of scooting up on the recliner unfortunately created space at her feet for him. He sat down without hesitation.
“What are you doing?”
“Peace offering.” He held out the drink again. She stared at the bright potion uneasily. It was garnished with a paper straw, a cocktail umbrella, and a wedge of pineapple.
“I’m not drinking tonight,” she said.
“I figured as much. It’s a virgin strawberry and mango frozen daiquiri. Made with my very own hands.”
Strawberry and mango. Her favorite. With or without rum. How did he know that? It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that he’d brought her this particular flavor combination.