Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Heat throttles up my throat.
Damon lets me stew for a bit, takes another sip and then says, “I do think I’m cute. That part is true.”
I swallow at the emphasis on that part. “Actually, Troy. Could you make that to-go?”
He slides over our newly eco-cupped cappuccinos, and I thank him while pushing at Damon to head out. He yields to my insistence with a cheeky smirk, and once I’ve got him far enough away from the tea rooms, I whine. “Why did you have to show up?”
“No, no, no. You’re not the one that gets to ask questions.”
I grumble into my coffee and his arm comes around my shoulders.
“When exactly did I tell you to polish my board? And moreover, why have I done that?”
I peer at him out the corner of my eye. He’s a charming sight against Kōpuha Bay’s green and blue backdrop, his curious grin as large as life; I groan under the weight of it.
“Come, Leon. Tell me.”
A flash of movement across the road steals my attention, followed by my phone buzzing in my pocket. I rip it out, check the message, and drain my coffee. “How about I show you?”
I drag Damon home, something he lets me do as long as I hold his hand, entwining our fingers and everything. I’m still rolling my eyes when we reach the front door. “If I didn’t know better,” I mutter, “I’d say you’re ridiculously in love with me.”
His smirk softens until not a trace of it is left. He raises our joined hands and kisses the back of mine. “Maybe you don’t know better.”
My heart leaps into my throat, a wild pulsing that’s making me dizzy as I search Damon’s features for the joke, the following laugh—
A series of delighted shrieks splits the air, and we break apart. Flushing, I hurriedly unlock the house and race through it to the back yard.
“What’s going on?” Damon calls after me, and stops abruptly on the back deck.
It’s hard to know where to look first. The four grannies in pyjama pants, positioned in a semi-circle with their hands balled, ready to fight; the other four grannies in a whooping heap on the lawn; or the groaning figure in a black balaclava underneath them.
“Christ,” Damon murmurs. His eyes meet mine, and they aren’t as molten as moments ago. There’s a frustrated gleam in them and his lips have flattened. “I told you I’d sort it out, Leon.”
My stomach sinks. The four standing grannies become eight and Damon’s stalking arsonist curled on the grass.
Ahhh. I run a hand through my hair. “I didn’t want you to end up murdered? I’d be a teeny tiny bit sad if you did.”
“All these near declarations.”
Huh?
He shuts his eyes, and his mouth quirks at one edge before he sighs.
The sigh has my stomach looping, and I twist to the gals. “Uh, thanks for helping out.”
“We can’t see who it is?”
I bolt in front as Gretchen bends to yank off the culprit’s balaclava. “Best not, hmm? I think I’ve misjudged the situation a little bit.”
A humoured snort punctuates from behind.
Gretchen hums. “Okay, dear. Anything for you.”
Sixteen cheek-kisses later, Damon and I look at one another over the figure in black. Damon shakes his head, but there’s more of his smirk back. “You have the town smitten.”
Like you do.
He tuts. “What am I going to do with you?”
I cross my arms. “If you’d told me more, I wouldn’t have constructed this strategy. Actually, I probably wouldn’t even have started self-defence.”
“What was this strategy, exactly?”
“You know, gathering the grannies to take down your stalker arsonist.”
“This is why you lied about my surf board?”
“To lure our culprit here.”
Said culprit groaned.
Damon rubs his brow. “What even made you think that’d work?”
“They’d do anything to make you happy. Trust me, I know what that looks like.”
His face lights up, a wicked glint in his eye.
I gulp and glance down at our culprit—head bent, hugging their knees, pulling at grass. “Uh . . .” I clear my throat. “The book thing. Troy said it sounded like something a friend would do and it triggered a memory. The first time I met with Tai trying to find my perfect match he kept insisting it’s you.”
Damon folds his arms, fingers drumming over his bicep. “I do like Tai.”
“He handed me your card first and naturally, I glanced over it.”
“Naturally.”
I pause and throw him a glare, to which he smiles. “Under ‘what would you consider a romantic gesture’, you put: coming home to find all my books ordered by author.”
“Did I? I probably had no clue what to put down. And I was in the library.”
“Nevertheless, the card wasn’t there when I snuck in again to look for it.”
“You have been busy.”
“That triggered another memory. The night we saw stars.”
A naughty grin.
“Actual stars! I think that’s when they took your card.”