Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I clear my throat, taking a deliberate step back to put some distance between us. "We should head back down," I say, trying to steady my voice, though my pulse still races.
Violet nods, her expression a little guarded now, and she crosses the room toward the door. "Sure, yes," she replies, her tone clipped, like she’s brushing off the tension from moments ago.
I follow her down the stairs, the sound of our footsteps filling the silence between us. By the time we reach the dining room, the lively chatter of my family seems to pull us back into reality. Everyone is getting ready to sit down for dinner, the table crowded with plates and silverware, the smell of herbs and garlic filling the air.
“We have an extra tent, Shep. You could come with us,” Paxton offers, pulling out a chair for Hartford, his wife, so she can sit next to him. There’s a casualness to his suggestion, but also a hopeful note, like he’s trying to gather as many of us as he can for one last summer hurrah.
Shepherd shakes his head, offering an apologetic smile as he rubs a hand over his tired face. “August is teething and not sleeping through the night. Honestly, we’ll have to take a rain check.” His voice is a mix of exhaustion and affection as he looks at Felicity, who’s cradling their fussy baby boy in her arms.
Felicity nods, adjusting August on her hip while settling into her seat next to Hartford. “I wish we could, but it’s just too much right now.”
Hartford leans over, cooing softly to try and soothe the baby. "I’m sorry you can’t come camping with us. I know how hard it is when they’re this little." She casts a sympathetic glance at Felicity before her eyes flick over to me, her expression turning sly. “Why don’t you and Violet join us?” There’s something in her tone, like she knows she’s putting me on the spot.
From across the room, Anya catches onto the suggestion and grins brightly. “I love that idea! You two could use a little getaway.”
I pause, pulling out a chair for Violet before taking my own seat beside her. The thought of camping with the family—especially under these circumstances—feels strange. "In case you’ve forgotten," I say, forcing a light tone, "I’ve got a restaurant to run. And Violet’s busy on the ranch." I glance at her, gauging her reaction. Her expression remains calm, but I can’t tell if she’s relieved or disappointed by the excuse.
Violet lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, there’s no way I could get away right now. The horses don’t take care of themselves." There’s a touch of warmth in her voice.
Paxton leans back in his chair, giving me a knowing look. “You’re missing out, man. You and Violet could use some time away from all the work. Plus, there’s nothing like a night under the stars.”
“I’m sure it’s great,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, “but somebody has to run Atta Boy.”
Anya’s face lights up as she smiles at Willow, her best friend. “I heard there’s a waterfall with a small lake where we can go swimming. Doesn’t that sound amazing? I think it’ll be so nice to get away for a bit.” She turns her attention to Tripp, who’s sitting across the table. “You sure you can’t push things with the book tour back, Tripp?” she asks, hope still lingering in her voice.
Tripp exchanges a glance with Millie, who’s sitting beside him, before shaking his head. “Sorry, Anya. Dates are already booked, and I’ve got events lined up.” His tone is apologetic, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement about his new book tour.
Anya’s smile fades a little, but she quickly recovers, brushing it off. “That’s a bummer,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
Griffin chimes in, offering Tripp a supportive grin. “But also great for you, man. We’re all really proud of you. Getting a book tour is a big deal.” His arm rests around Anya’s shoulders as he squeezes her gently, trying to ease her disappointment.
The conversation shifts smoothly, the focus now on Tripp and the success of his latest book, rather than the camping trip. Tripp starts talking about his upcoming tour stops and the cities he’s excited to visit, and everyone seems genuinely interested.
I lean back in my chair, momentarily relieved that the pressure’s off me. But as the conversation drifts, I can’t help but feel a slight pang of nostalgia. I haven’t been up to the mountains in years, not since I was a kid. The memory of those trips—hiking through the woods, swimming in cold, clear lakes, and sitting around campfires under a blanket of stars—makes me wonder if maybe I’m missing out. But then again, those trips were simpler, when life wasn’t tangled up with responsibilities, businesses to run, and complicated marriages.