Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“You’re not supposed to swim in the pond alone.” Milo catches me ambling into the pond, my fingertips grazing the water's surface after it reaches past my knees.
“I’ll be eighteen soon, not eight.” I roll my eyes.
“When you were eight, you wore a one-piece with pink ponies.”
I glance over my shoulder, eyeing Milo—gauging him. Is he referencing my bikini? The wind picks up, and goose bumps erupt along my exposed skin. Or maybe it’s the way Milo’s looking at me.
Instead of saying what I want to say, I smirk. Yes, Milo, I have boobs now. Do you like them? Yes, Milo, more than half of my ass is currently exposed. Does that do anything for you?
“If you think I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing, you’ll have to come get me and carry me to my room. I won’t fight you.” I grin to myself. “Not that much.”
“What’s with your tone today?”
“Tone?” I ask, diving forward and swimming into the deeper water. When I reach the middle of the pond, I face the bank and Milo sitting on the edge of the dock in his jeans, button-down, cowboy hat, and boots, nearly skimming the water’s surface when he swings his legs.
“It’s the tone you use with Fletcher,” he says.
“I don’t hate you that much, Milo.” I can’t help but flirt with him while making slow broad strokes and treading water.
“That much? So you’re saying you hate me? What did I do?”
My arms slice through the water, easy breaststrokes in his direction. “You’re marrying Jolene next summer. I heard Fletcher talking to Pauline. They’re planning your wedding for right after Jolene’s college graduation. Did you know that?”
His chin dips into a hesitant nod, eyes tracking my every move. “Yes. I’m aware.”
“God … you’re such a slave to him. All these years, I looked at you and thought you were this strong, capable man whom no one dared to mess with. But you’re just a pawn. Whatever he has over you must be big.” I stop just beneath his dangling legs.
“What if I’m okay with marrying Jolene? What if that makes me financially smart? What if everyone else is the fucking pawn, and I’m the one who’s gonna come out on top? And what’s wrong with Jolene?”
“She’s one of them.”
“Maybe I’m one of them.”
“You’re not. You’re like me.”
He chuckles, shaking his head and peering out at the pond. A smile plays along his lips. “Nobody’s like you, Indiana. You’re in your own fucking league.”
“What league is that?”
Milo returns his gaze to me. “Self-destructive. You’d burn this whole place down before you’d let anyone tell you what to do, who to marry, or how to think.”
A slow grin works its way up my face. He’s not wrong, but something tells me it’s not meant to be a compliment.
“Jolene is graduating from college. You’re getting married. All eyes will be on the two of you. I should thank you. I can graduate and get the hell out of here without anyone noticing that I’m gone.” I kick off the dock post and float on my back. “Free. I’ll be … free.”
“I’ll notice that you’re gone.”
I lift my head, unsure I heard him with my ears in the water. “What did you say?”
A barely detectable smile tugs at his lips while he averts his gaze and shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I swim toward the dock once more and grab his boot. “Tell me.”
After a few seconds, he glances down at me, blinking slowly while twisting his lips. “I said I’d notice that you’re gone.”
There are a million ways I could respond to him. “Well, I’m not gone yet. So get in the pond and race me to the other side.”
“I’m in my work clothes.”
“Take them off.” I grin, tugging on his boot.
“Indie …” He playfully kicks his foot away from me.
“Last one to the other side cleans out the chicken coops.” I circle my arms, swimming toward the opposite side of the pond, kicking up that familiar fishy smell.
“Indiana …”
“Am I too fast for you, Milo?” I taunt him.
Splash!
I feel him on my tail, and I sneak a glance back. Yep, he’s on my tail. His muscular arms cut through the water after me.
With a giggle, I swim as fast as I can. “No!” I scream when he passes me less than five feet from the opposite shore. My motion loses uniformity, and I turn into nothing but flailing arms and legs—a sinking pile of dead momentum.
His hand smacks the grassy edge, and he hurls himself out of the pond two seconds before I reach land.
I try not to stare at his bare chest, tattoos, or shit-eating grin, and I definitely try not to stare at his wet, black briefs clinging to him rather snugly. It’s no longer innocent like it was in my formative years. I’m no longer taking note of his size. My mind goes further … much further. Thoughts as dirty as the water around us.