Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I break records on that run. It’s my best time ever. A perk of (literally) running from your problems.
In the afternoon, I’m out in the garden with a basket overflowing with green beans and red peppers. My head is in the clouds as I imagine all the dishes I could prepare for dinner. Then I spot Luke. He’s just finished working out. How can I tell? His gray shirt is drenched in sweat. His hair is slick with it too. He looks sticky and hot, and my hands clench around my gardening shears. I watch him skirt around the garden, completely ignoring me as he heads straight for the pool. In what can only be described as a slow-motion striptease, he tugs off his shirt and tosses it onto a lounge chair, making the muscles along his back ripple and bulge. He toes off his tennis shoes and socks then dives into the water to cool off.
I am slack-jawed among the cucumbers.
The tomatoes are shaking their heads at me like, Girl, you’re in trouble.
I take pruning shears to them and get on with my day.
“Knock-knock.”
Luke finds me the next morning when I’m reading in bed. I am this close to finishing my historical romance. Luke sees it lying cover side up on my bed, and the most interesting thing happens: he doesn’t feel the need to comment on it. He doesn’t give me a salacious slow-motion wink. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the Fabio-inspired cover. There’s no Oh ho ho! What do you have there, little lady?
Are you kidding me, sir? Are you trying to make me fall in love with you even harder?
“I know you’re on break, but I was just letting you know I’m going to cook lunch if that’s okay with you.”
I sit up. “Yes, of course. I was planning a summer pasta, but everything will keep until dinner. Are you sure you want to cook though? If you’re craving something in particular just let me know and I’m happy to make it for you.”
He clears his throat and looks away pointedly, staring at my window.
Alarmed, I look down, but it’s all good. I’m just in a tank top and shorts. I’m not lying around in a half-gaping robe exposing my heaving breasts or something (unlike my book’s heroine).
Still, I get it. If I walked in on Luke lying on his bed, I’d probably start sweating on the spot.
He crosses his arms and leans against my doorframe. “I want to grill burgers.”
“Oh! I can do it.”
“Contrary to what Harper has led you to believe, I can cook a few things. Burgers on the grill happens to be one of them.”
I grin. “She’s a tough critic. You know how often she tells me the story about the salmon you burned that one time? Every day.”
He throws his hands up. “I swear I’ll never hear the end of it. So our kitchen smelled like a fish market for a few weeks? Big deal!”
I laugh. “Well, all right. You’ve got the burgers. Why don’t I stick to sides and toppings?”
“Deal.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.
I don’t. I truly can’t.
He realizes that right away, curling his fingers into a fist and then tacking on a little thumbs-up.
I don’t know why it makes me burst out laughing.
“Should we talk about—”
“AMNESIA,” I shout, killing whatever the hell he was about to say. “Now go. Git.”
Later that morning, the doorbell rings. Luke’s out getting the grill ready, so I answer it.
It’s Alexia and Peyton.
Peyton’s wearing a one-piece bathing suit covered with rainbows. A coordinating towel is slung over her shoulder. Her goggles are already on, covering her eyes and making her hair stand up. For her job as a nanny, Alexia has chosen to wear sky-high platform espadrilles and a string bikini that covers so little of her skin I’m surprised she’s bothering with it at all. Just let ’em fly at that point.
“Hi!” Peyton says with a big wave. “We’re here to play with Harper!”
“Peyton!” Harper squeals before running past me to greet her friend. She’s already in her bathing suit too, and the two of them waste no time rushing out to the pool, which leaves me with the fun task of welcoming Alexia.
“Please, come in,” I say, stepping back to open the door wider.
“Oh hey.”
She takes off the pool bag she had slung over her shoulder and holds it out for me.
“Oh-kay,” I say as I’m forced to take it or let it spill out onto the floor.
She’s not even looking at me. She’s a shrewd hunter, her eyes surveying the house.
“Where’s Luke?”
It pains me to tell her the truth. “He’s out back.”
She unveils a devious grin and leaves me in the dust. As she walks away, I’m treated to a view of her perky butt in her thong bikini bottom. Now there’s something that truly baffles me. A thong bikini bottom? I just don’t trust bathing suit technology that much, you know?