Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Thanks for dropping it off.” I feel my skin heat as he turns to face me, and his eyes trek slowly down my body, making me realize I only have on a thin tank top and a pair of very short sleep shorts.
“Hey, Mr. Watters.”
Zach’s eyes go to Hunter, and the intensity that had been in his eyes moments ago disappears as he smiles. “Hey, kid. Just call me Zach. How are you settling in?”
“Good, I have the coolest room, and Mom and I are going fishing today.”
“Oh yeah?” Zach asks, looking at me with a raised brow, probably remembering that I use to hate fishing.
“I’m going to take him out to the road where Gramps used to take me,” I admit softly, feeling my cheeks heat. That spot is the same one Zach and I used to spend hours during the summer, sitting on the tailgate of his old pickup with our fishing poles in the water and our faces glued together.
“I know Pat took his poles with him when he left, but I have a few if you want to borrow them.”
“That’s not necessary.” I shake my head, knowing if we borrow them from him today, I’ll have to see him again when we return them, and there is only so much of being around him that I can take. And I think I’ve reached my limit.
“It’s not a big deal, Shel.”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s not a big deal,” Hunter agrees from my side, but my mind is totally focused on Zach and the fact he called me Shel. “Mom.” Hunter nudges my shoulder, and my eyes swing toward him.
“Um…” I bite my lip, wondering how to get out of this without sounding rude.
“Do you want to come with us?” Hunter asks, looking at Zach, and my eyes widen.
“I’m sure Zach is busy today, honey,” I cut in swiftly, looking at Zach and praying I suddenly have the power of mind control. There is no way I could possibly spend the day with him.
“I’m not.” He smiles, holding my gaze, and my heart plummets.
Crap.
“Let me get the kids. We can take my boat out. They’d probably enjoy getting out on the water for a few hours.”
“A boat?” Hunter breathes, in little boy excitement, and I so badly want to cover my face with my hands and scream at the top of my lungs that this is not happening.
“On a boat,” Zach agrees softly, with his eyes on Hunter.
“Heck yeah,” Hunter shouts, throwing his arms up in the air before proceeding to jump around the room.
“We’ll meet you guys out front in an hour. It’s gonna take me that long to get Aubrey and Steven out of bed.” Zach smiles, ruffling Hunter’s hair as he moves past him and heads for the front door.
“I’m gonna go get ready!” Hunter cries, running out of the room. This leaves me standing there listening to the front door close behind Zach, and the sound of Hunter’s feet pounding up the stairs.
Leaning my head back, I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes, praying to get struck by lightning. When that doesn’t happen, I give up and head for my room to get ready. Finally, after pulling almost every single item of clothing out of my closet, I settle on sneakers, worn jeans that had gotten too tight for me but now fit me comfortably, my warm, light grey sweater, and my thin black raincoat.
I kept telling myself while I was getting ready that it didn’t matter at all what I wore, or if I had on mascara. All we were doing was going fishing. Although, I couldn’t stop feeling like it was important to make a good impression on Zach’s children. Just the thought of meeting them has my hands becoming sweaty and my stomach knotting once more. I really don’t know if I will be able to deal with meeting them, knowing who their mother is and who Zach used to be to me.
“Mom, are you ready?” Hunter yells, breaking into my thoughts as I zip up my jacket.
“I’m coming. I hope you have on something warm. It can get cold out on the water,” I yell back, while tying my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room.
“Is this warm enough?” he asks when I walk into the kitchen, where he’s finishing off his half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal wearing a hoodie and jeans.
“Yes, but bring your raincoat just in case,” I say, and he rolls his eyes, looking like a teenager instead of a boy.
Dropping his bowl in the sink, he mutters, “I’ll go grab it,” before running off and returning a moment later, out of breath, with his coat in his hand. “Are you ready?” he asks again, and I smile at him, shaking my head.
“Let’s go.” I swing out my hand, following him out of the house and down the front steps. Zach and his kids are waiting next to a large red four-door truck surrounded by fishing poles and tackle boxes. As soon as Zach sees us coming, his eyes sweep over me and his lips tilt up at the corners.