Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Still, I’d guessed right. All of the built-up frustration over this unexpected trip and the cancellation of my recent art commission served to pump my legs even faster than normal. I followed the spray-painted arrows through town and into the shaded woods of the nature preserve behind the elementary school. The trail was quiet, with only the soft pounding sounds of Brooks’s shoes hitting the ground ahead of me. For a pencil pusher, the man could still run, and pretty soon we’d outstripped all of the other runners.
The trail through the nature preserve went steeply uphill before giving out onto an empty field where the painted arrows led us alongside the highway for a few yards. There wasn’t another soul in sight, except the cows watching us from the pasture across the road. They were probably wondering what the fool humans were up to. I couldn’t blame them.
And then suddenly, apropos of nothing, Brooks stopped and stared at a couple of posts sticking out of the ground in the cow pasture, his breath heaving.
“Out of breath already, Mr. Perfect?”
He shot me a scathing look, then turned his attention back to the empty posts. “This is our town sign. Was our town sign. I’m not sure what happened to it.”
The little frown between his eyebrows did weird things to my stomach, and though I’d never admit it, I preferred him looking cocky.
“Probably the same thing that happened to your stamina,” I said sadly. “Lost to the sands of time.”
His eyes lit with competitive fire. “I’ll show you stamina.” He took off, following the arrows back into the woods with a burst of speed that would have left me in the dust if I hadn’t been so committed to winning this thing for Ava… and to keeping the man’s ass in my field of vision for as long as possible.
I watched in awe as his shorts crept higher with every muscled push of his strong legs. My brain fell into this haze of imagining what it would feel like to have those hairy legs wrapped around mine as he frotted against me. I wondered if his stomach had that sexy V to it or if he had a lickable happy trail leading down to—
“Aghhh!” The weight of the pail suddenly shifted, causing me to trip over a tree root and go careening into the thicket of shrubs next to the dirt trail. The handle of my pail had broken off in my hand, and milk went absolutely everywhere which only added insult to injury and made me both sticky and more attractive to the entire bug population of middle Tennessee.
Suddenly, strong arms grabbed me around the chest and lifted me up and out of the brambles before setting me back on the trail. “Let’s go,” Brooks grumbled. “Ava will never forgive you if you don’t at least finish.”
I ran behind him without thinking. “But I have to win,” I said stupidly.
Brooks shot me a smirky grin. “Can’t win the Lope with an empty pail.” He tossed the broken pail back to me as his own full pail sparkled perfectly in the dappled sun.
I looked down at the offending object. “Motherfucker. Those assholes were right. The handle was broken.”
“I saw Ollie Nutter trying to warn you, but you didn’t seem to want to listen.”
I glanced at Brooks with a scowl. “I thought he was fucking with me. I know guys like him.”
“Guys who work two after-school jobs to pay for their little brother’s soccer camp?”
His words almost made me stumble again. “What? How the hell do you know that? You haven’t been back here for years.”
An awkward silence descended between us. Nothing but the thumps of our footfalls broke the odd hush.
“You been spying on me, Mal?”
“Pfft. I can’t help it if the Head Licker is the center of all the town gossip,” I said with a sniff.
“I know about Ollie because I talk to my mother every Sunday evening and get way more information than any one person needs about the Thicketeers.”
Huh. I could have sworn the townsfolk would’ve been called Lickers. It didn’t matter. There were bigger fish to fry, and right now he was carrying one of them.
I side-eyed his perfect pail of milk. “Listen… um… I’m going to need that pail of milk.”
Brooks didn’t break stride. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Johnsons don’t cheat.”
“It’s not cheating for you to pour your milk into my pail.” Why did that sound so dirty?
Brooks kept stride like a pro. Clearly the years hadn’t fucked with his ability to nail the Lope. “Not gonna happen, city boy.”
“You’re calling me a city boy? I thought you were the one who lived in Manhattan?”
“I actually live in Brooklyn.”
“And I actually don’t give a shit. I need that milk. Give me your load.”
I had a serious problem. Nothing I said sounded remotely sane or decent.