Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Bryson?”
My heart hammered in my chest as I turned, sobering immediately at the sight of the elegant blond dressed in casual designer wear. “Piper. I…hi. I thought you were in Argentina or on a cruise.”
My ex-wife pushed a strand of her long hair over her shoulder, nearly blinding us with the glare from the five-carat diamond rock on her left hand. Piper liked the finer things in life and had been sure to marry into money—twice. Not that she was a gold-digger. She was just…fiscally ambitious. But she was also a good person, a dear friend, and a wonderful mother to our son.
And I was the idiot gaping at her as I tried to figure out how to explain Smitty while simultaneously wondering if that was necessary.
“We got home yesterday. Jake told me he’d be home next weekend, and I wanted to see him before his season begins and life gets crazy for him,” she said, offering a bejeweled hand to Smitty. “I’m Piper, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. Smitty Paluchek.”
“Oh, I know who you are.” Piper beamed. “Congrats on your retirement, and welcome to the area. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were here to stay.”
“Thanks. I like Elmwood. It’s been great so far.”
“Don’t tell anyone I said so, but Pinecrest is very nice too.” She winked and squeezed my arm meaningfully. “Be sure to show him that house on Chester Road, Bryson. And call me later. We should catch up.”
With that, she was gone, sailing out of the store in a haze of Chanel No. 5. I opened my mouth just as the salesperson approached us.
“Hello, Mr. Milligan. It’s good to see you again. And welcome, Mr. Paluchek. We’ve heard a lot about you in town. I’m Tina. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“Thank you and yes…I like this coffee table. Any chance it comes with cupholders?”
Fifteen minutes later I was still chuckling over the look of utter horror Tina hadn’t quite been able to cover at the cupholder request. It was better than freaking out about running into my ex-wife. It hadn’t gone badly by any means, but if I knew Piper, she’d have lots of nosy questions I wouldn’t know how to answer. I could practically hear the amusement laced with concern.
Bry, you know he’s straight, right? What are you doing? He’s much younger than you. Be careful. Be smart.
Nope. I didn’t want to go there. It was better to stay in the moment, sipping Sauvignon Blanc at a table for two at C’est Bon, Pinecrest’s finest eatery. French music set the mood in the contemporary space with its exposed ceiling ducts and modern chandeliers.
We sat in the corner near a window overlooking a small garden, perusing the menu, my shin resting against Smitty’s.
I liked this bubble. I felt safe here, lulled by Edith Piaf, good wine, and a handsome companion who wore his newfound celebrity with grace and humor.
“You traumatized poor Tina,” I chided.
“Nah, I just gave her something to talk about. I think I’ll have the tenderloin. Want to share some appetizers? The crab cakes look good and the coconut shrimp and—”
“Are you sure you can eat all that?” I raised my glass to my lips and almost spit my wine at his deadpan stare.
Smitty’s lips twisted as if he were hiding a smile. “I’m not even gonna answer that one.”
A waiter came by the table to take our orders and promised to send bread. We thanked him and gazed at each other, smiling like idiots. God, I felt like a teenager.
“You were pretty amazing today. At the game,” I clarified, gnawing my bottom lip.
“Were we at the same game? You know we got murdalized, right?”
“Yes, but you handled it well. You’re a very good coach.” I grinned as I leaned forward. “Wait. Are you blushing? Oh, wow…that’s really cute. And sexy.”
Smitty rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not fucking blushing. I don’t blush. It’s probably the lighting.”
“My bad, but I’m serious. You’re patient, and you teach. Screamy coaches are the worst. Maybe that’s an effective method of learning for some, but I don’t like a lot of yelling.”
“Hmph. At my house, that was just how we talked. You didn’t ask someone to pass the pepper at dinner, you yelled it.” Smitty cupped his hands over his mouth and whisper-yelled, “Pass the fuckin’ pepper!”
I chuckled. “Seriously?”
He shook his head and snickered. “The Palucheks weren’t your average family. We didn’t sit at a dinner table and talk about our respective days. We scrounged for whatever was in the fridge, and if we happened to be in the kitchen at the same time…cool. If not, also cool. Maybe even better.”
“Same. I split time between my parents’ houses, and neither of them bothered with so-called traditions. I ate alone a lot.”
“Poor baby.”