Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Bad news: Chloe was an adult, but she was less capable of hiding her cold shoulder.
More good news: Samantha was acting mature and not reacting.
Last good news: There were enough people around, it wasn’t a thing.
So we could all just enjoy Hale’s birthday.
I set the cake in front of Hale, the thirty-one sparklers lighting up his beautiful eyes.
“Well, there you go, my Extraordinary Mr. Wheeler, happy birthday!” I cried when the song was done.
Everyone clapped.
I leaned in to kiss his cheek, then in his ear, I explained about the cake I got from Milk Bar Bakery, “The sides are naked, but the frosting layers are an inch deep, there are three of them, and there are tons of sprinkles, so I thought it’d work.”
He turned his head. “It’s perfect.”
I went in for a touch of the lips.
When I moved back, he asked, “But how do I blow out the candles?”
I slowly looked to the cake, mumbling, “Well…shit.”
He busted out laughing and pulled me into his lap.
We waited for the sparklers to go out before Samantha dashed back to the kitchen and got the birthday cake ice cream.
“Love you, bro,” Gage said to Sully, then confessed, “But I’m totally here for Hale’s annual birthday cake on birthday cake celebration.”
“I already knew that,” Sully replied.
Everyone laughed.
Carole lifted her glass. “To Thurston Remington the Fifth.”
Other glasses went up, including Fliss shouting, “To Thurston!”
And at that, everyone laughed again.
But Hale laughed the hardest.
And that made me happy.
I was sitting under an umbrella, and I still had to shade my phone from the sun to watch the video Chuck sent.
Even though it was still difficult to see, I saw what I needed and texted, Tell them we’re interested and I’ll be in touch to set up a time to view it myself ASAP.
I wasn’t with Chuck, looking at studio space for our West Coast operations, because I was where I needed to be.
I put my phone down and looked to the ocean.
Hale was popping to his feet on his surfboard, preparing to catch a wave.
He caught it. Now, with experience with this, I knew he always did.
He rode it in while my heart palpitated a little bit (because he was damned sexy, riding that board). He naturally fell off when the swell died, but instead of mounting it again and paddling back out, he stood, tucked it under his arm and jogged out of the surf.
Cue more heart palpitations and me resisting the urge to film him (done that already, loads).
We’d been there two hours. It was only eight thirty, but for surfing, it was getting late. I thought he was done.
He wasn’t done.
He walked up to what appeared to be a dad and son duo, the dad was in an electric wheelchair, the son, who might be maybe nine, ten years old, was watching Hale approach. They’d been there a while and I’d noticed them looking up and down the beach, like they were waiting for someone. Someone who didn’t show.
The boy had a kid’s wetsuit on and a battered surfboard that was probably rented.
Surfing lessons, gone awry.
Hale spoke with them for a bit, lots of nodding happening, and eventually, the boy started dancing excitedly. I could see, even if I wasn’t close, the kid was ecstatic, and the dad was in shock.
Hale looked to me.
I blew him a kiss.
He jerked up his chin.
Then he stood with the kid on the beach for the next half hour, showing him on dry land what he’d need to do out in the blue.
After that, they paddled out together.
During this time, I’d grabbed my book (that would be, after watching Hale with that kid—he was a natural with kids, so it was safe to say my heart palpitated a little more).
I had things to do and people to talk to, but obviously, this morning’s surf session was going to be longer than usual.
So, when it was all said and done, this was the only place I truly needed to be.
And this was the only thing I truly needed to be doing.
After I set it where it would always sit, I adjusted the plant that Hale gave me all those months ago so the leaves worked with the double photo frame on one corner of the desk.
I then looked to him.
He hadn’t entered the room, his father’s study. He was leaning in the door jamb, watching me.
“Okay?” I asked.
“It’s perfect there, baby,” he said softly.
It didn’t surprise me he thought that, since it was Hale who suggested I put it there.
I didn’t move from where I was standing at his dad’s desk when I carefully suggested, “Maybe we should renovate this room.”
“No,” Hale said quickly, but not harshly. He then explained, “He designed this room. He picked this room to be with me and Duncan and Genny. He—”
His voice had gotten thick, so I interrupted him, “Okay, we won’t change a thing.”