Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re not allergic to fun, Alessandra.”
I scoffed. “Good luck with that. And I’m not sure I trust your idea of fun, considering you jump out of helicopters, but kicking the shit out of you with impunity has some merit.” I tugged my lower lip between my teeth, because he was right, they looked . . . oddly fun. “Not worth explaining that I reinjured my ankle in a blow-up dinosaur, though.” Vasily would kill me.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his dimple deepening. “Come on, Rousseau. My girlfriend would put it on and kick the shit out of me. You know you want to.”
Strangely enough, I kind of did.
Five minutes later, I found myself ensconced by the scent of vinyl, looking out a clear square from inside a dinosaur costume as the fan puffed it out around me, elastic tight at my wrists and ankles to keep the air in. “This is ridiculous.” What the hell was I doing?
“And yet here we are.” Hudson circled me on the mat in his own costume, looking out of the window beneath the T-Rex’s mouth. “Make it good. I think Caroline is watching.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to charge at you.” I whipped around to follow him, the tail throwing me slightly off balance. My ankle wavered with a whisper of protest, but no pain.
“I have nothing against you losing.” He ran for me, and I sidestepped, but our costumes collided, bouncing us both sideways.
I scoffed, catching my balance, but Hudson was already on me, bouncing me backward. Damn, he was quick. I stumbled, and gravity claimed its prize as I fell. This is what I got for putting on a freaking blow-up costume like a ten-year-old.
The costume crinkled, and an arm wrapped around my back, tugging me into a spin so I fell forward—onto Hudson’s chest as he took the brunt of our impact. The air gushed out of our costumes faster than the fan could replenish it, and I felt another arm hooked under my right thigh, keeping my knee bent, my ankle safe.
“I win.” He grinned up at me.
“I’m on top.” I fumbled with my hands to get some form of leverage on him.
“I’d still call that a win for me.” His smile told me I might have met my match in the acting department.
“Fool around later, you two!” Hudson’s mom called out. “The kids are arriving!”
“She thinks we’re fooling around.” His eyes lit with pure mischief. “See? It’s working.”
I rolled my eyes and got the heck off him.
For the next hour and twenty minutes, I helped kids—and a couple of adults—in and out of the T-Rex costumes, watching in absolute fascination as they sent each other bouncing across the mat. I did my best to soak in the happiness of the people around me, and didn’t think of ballet once, not even for a second, until Hudson’s mother declared a break for lunch.
“I’ll get you a plate,” Hudson offered.
“You don’t have to.” I shook my head.
“Taking care of you is the least I can do in the circumstances, and it’s what my parents would expect. I’ll be right back.” He pointed to the only picnic table not entirely consumed with children, then waded into the melee surrounding the grill.
I stepped over the bench of the picnic table, taking a seat in the middle.
“Alessandra!” Juniper bounded over to me in a pair of hot-pink shorts and a rainbow tank top, with a turquoise-and-pink butterfly painted on her cheek and her hair woven into a french braid. “You came!”
“I promised you I would.” My lips quirked at the flush in her cheeks, the excitement in her eyes. She was the whole reason I was here, but I couldn’t act like it. “Happy birthday-party day.”
“Thanks!” She slid in next to me, putting down a soda and a paper plate loaded with barbecue and sweets in front of her. “I’m sitting with you.”
“You know my daughter?” Caroline sat down in front of me, quickly followed by Hudson’s mom on the left and, to my relief, Gavin on her right, each setting their lunch on the table.
“No need to take that tone,” Hudson’s mom rebuked over her glasses, but it lacked the cutting sting my own mother would have put into the words.
“I think I should know who my brother introduces my kid to,” Caroline argued as Hudson sat on my left and his dad took the last spot on our side.
“Hey, Caroline”—Hudson slid a plate my way—“when I keep an eye on Juniper on the weekends so you can work, sometimes we see my girlfriend. Now you know.” He took two bottles of water out of his pockets, putting one in front of me and taking the other for himself.
“Thank you.” I picked up the fork and knife he’d put on my plate next to a piece of grilled barbecue chicken, a large portion of salad, fresh vegetables with a little ranch, and a brownie. Another little section of that gaping wound inside my chest pulled tight and closed. He remembered far more than I would have expected him to.