Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Oh, big time,” I agree.
Tate scores another bullseye, prompting Aaron’s brother to rub his forehead and marvel, “Damn, bro. You’re like some darts whiz kid. How often do you play?”
“Hardly ever,” Tate replies proudly. “I was born with this gift.”
I snicker from our spot on the sidelines, prompting Tate to turn and flash me a grin.
“How long have you two been together?” Aaron asks.
“Oh, we’re not together,” I reply, and I don’t miss the flicker of interest in his eyes. He really is cute. And I’m definitely picking up on some chemistry between us while we’ve been chatting.
Once he knows Tate and I aren’t a couple, Aaron gets even flirtier. After three beers, I’m feeling loose and relaxed, and find myself flirting back with very minimal nervous babbling. It’s going well, at least until Aaron’s brother takes a bathroom break and Tate comes over and interrupts us. He looks Aaron up and down, then shifts his gaze to me and lifts a brow, as if to ask, Do we like this guy?
I nod slightly, then curse myself for it because Tate views that as permission to interrogate.
“All right,” he says cheerfully, planting himself in front of Aaron. “Let’s hear it. What are your intentions with my friend?”
A faint grin appears on Aaron’s face. He dons a thoughtful look. Goes quiet for several seconds. “Hmmm. Alright. Tough question. At the moment, I’m torn between inviting her to accompany me to the carnival tomorrow night—or, and hear me out, asking her to partner up for a darts tournament, except instead of playing to see who’s best, we’d be vying for the title of America’s Worst.”
Tate nods his approval. “Two solid options. Okay. Permission granted. Carry on.” He claps Aaron on the shoulder and wanders off.
“Well?” Aaron says, directing that appealing smile my way. “You, me, and a carnival? Tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” I say shyly. “I’d love to.”
CHAPTER 12
TATE
Tuesday is a slow day at Bartlett Marine, so Dad and I spend half the morning looking at boat porn. He’s hoping to replace our ancient thirty-seven-foot Hatteras with a newer model, maybe one with built-in GPS and a few more bells and whistles. But while I keep trying to steer him toward more practical options, Dad keeps clicking on shit that in no way meets our criteria.
“Dude,” I chastise. “We don’t need a high-performance speedboat.”
“Everyone needs a high-performance speedboat.”
“Well, yeah.” I sigh. “But we’re looking for something suitable for deep-sea fishing, remember?”
“I know, but …” Dad groans happily. “Look at this one, kid. Check out the design of her V-bottom hull … aw, man, she’s so sexy I can’t take it.”
A dry laugh echoes from the door. We both look up to see Mom standing there. We were so engrossed with the computer screen we didn’t even hear her come in.
“What’s her model number?” Mom asks.
I snicker. Most people would hear she’s so sexy I can’t take it and assume we’re ogling photos of women. “What makes you think we’re not looking at human porn?” I challenge.
“Because I know you boys better than that.” She strides toward us, an oversized wicker tote slung over her shoulder. With her yellow dress, flip-flops, and blond hair in a ponytail, she could easily pass for one of the college girls who’ll be swarming the Bay in September.
“Hi, sweetie.” She plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Hey, Mom.”
She turns to greet Dad, except when her lips near his cheek he pulls a sly switcheroo and plants his mouth on hers instead. I glimpse a slip of tongue, and cringe.
“You guys are repulsive,” I say, pretending to gag.
I don’t really mean it, though. Because all that stuff Mackenzie said last week about me never showing much interest in girlfriends? I suspect my parents’ relationship has a lot to do with that. When you grow up witnessing that sort of love, you start to believe that’s how all relationships are supposed to feel. And then you wait. You hold out for that feeling. It’s obscure, impossible to describe, but you know it exists. I know it exists because I see it with my folks.
I’ve been with many women, fucked a lot of them, dated a few, but I’ve yet to experience a deep connection with anyone. It might be cheesy and embarrassing and I’d never say it out loud, but I think I’m waiting for that feeling. And unless I feel it, there’s no point falling into a relationship with anyone.
Dad says he knew Mom was the one the moment he met her. She tells it a little differently, always teasing him that technically they met in high school and clearly he had no clue she was the one, otherwise they would’ve been dating back then. Dad was a big baseball star, dated cheerleaders and didn’t know Mom existed, according to her. After graduation, he left Georgia for St. Louis to play in the minors, while Mom stayed in St. Simon’s and started dating an accountant named Brad. A year into his ball career, Dad got injured and returned to the island, where he quickly reconnected with an old cheerleader flame. Which means they were both otherwise involved when they bumped into each other in the grocery store one afternoon. Despite that, Dad claims he took one look at her and knew he was going to marry her.