Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I know swingers when I see them and make a mental note to be less friendly next time we bump into one another.
“I’m not sure Juliet is going to live up to her name,” I blurt out, still butt hurt that she tried kicking me out of the camper before even meeting me.
I’m a great dude!
Wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone some woman I’ve only just met. She’s the girlfriend of my best friend’s girlfriend; it was my intention to take great care of her and be her friend when her friend was busy getting romantic with mine.
Oh well, some friendships aren’t meant to be.
They’re called friendshits, and I have a feeling the one with Juliet and I is going to stink.
Juliet’s loss, not mine.
I plan to make the most of this glorious weekend—the great outdoors, surrounded by friendly faces and my best buddy. That’s winning at life right there.
I continue my way down to the lakefront, a little bit bummed that there are no other people down here—despite the swinger-vibe I got, Cookie and Erik seemed really nice and I’m looking forward to meeting the other folks staying with us in the other cabins. On the water, a few ducks call, their squawks echoing. In the distance, I spy several homes sprinkled in the woods.
I’ve always wanted to have a lake house, but never saw the point in having one as a single man. I get enough alone time, why would I subject myself to complete silence in the middle of the woods? I much prefer the sound of a slamming screen door and the laughter of kids. Maybe a dog barking. Splashing.
Yeah, I totally want a wife and kids. I’ve been looking for love, just haven’t found anyone—at least, not the right one. Lots of gold diggers, cleat chasers, and fame whores—but not one woman with a heart of gold, I could bring home to my mom or the places I volunteer.
Bending, I pick a pebble off the shore and lob it sideways onto the water, watching it skip the surface twice before sinking.
Two skips? Pfft, I can do better than that!
I root around for another pebble—flatter the better—while humming the melody for “Looking for love in all the wrong places,” thumbing the stone in my hand before releasing it to the water. It skids beautifully, skips four times, then sinks.
Nice one, Halbrook!
I skip rocks for at least twenty minutes, hunting on the ground for the perfect stones then watching as they hop, jump, and sink, trying to beat my best score.
Not that it’s a competition.
Can’t be if I’m the only one playing.
I check the time, confident Thad and Mia will be done doing whatever it is they’ve been doing the past half hour *cough, banging* and make my way back up the trail, so we can get this day started and kick it in the rear.
Plus, we have reservations in a few for a tour of the lake on a pontoon boat, and I’d hate to be late.
I find everyone on the small porch of the camper I’m sharing with Juliet, the three of them laughing when I walk up.
“You done going to the bathroom?” I ask my roommate, giving her a commiserating nudge with my elbow. “Everything come out okay?”
She blanches, but manages to roll her pretty blue eyes, nudging me back. “Everything is fine, thanks.”
“Cool.” I focus my attention on Thad. “Boat should be here to grab us any minute—we should head back down there.”
Thad cocks his head thoughtfully. “I thought we were going fishing today instead—pontoon cruise tomorrow at sunset.”
Shit, I think he might be right. “Come to think of it, I did see a guy down there loading up a boat. Must have been ours.”
Mia’s long, black lashes flutter. “I love fishing.”
Juliet looks at her. “You do?” The ‘since when’ remains unspoken, but lingers in the air, the only oblivious one is Thad.
“Obviously,” Mia laughs. “My dad always used to take me when I was a kid. It’s been a while but I love it so much.”
Thad takes her hand and kisses it. “Beautiful and outdoorsy.”
Holding hands, they head down the path toward the water.
“Outdoorsy?” Juliet mutters. “Is he high?”
“High on love,” I grin, dragging her along. “How about you? Do you fish?”
She considers this question and as she does, I steal furtive glances at her.
Baseball cap with her ponytail pulled through the back. Glossy lips, but otherwise, no other makeup. Freckles across her perky nose. Hoop earrings.
Jeans and sweatshirt.
Dang she’s cute for someone so suspicious.
“I’ve only been fishing a few times in my life. Never really had the opportunity, my dad wasn’t into it. My grandpa was, but I grew up in Illinois and my grandparents lived in Arizona, so I didn’t see them often and in Arizona, there aren’t many places with bodies of water.” She pauses, following next to me down the trail. “Is that all he cares about? Her looks?”