Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I needed to get my head back in the game, and I knew it… but it was really hard when my mind kept veering north. I wondered what Flynn was doing, which customers at the Tavern were making him laugh and scream in frustration, how stressed he was over his preparation for Brew Fest, whether Alden was teasing him over the way we’d disappeared into the woods yesterday, and whether Flynn could possibly be feeling like the whole world was a little flatter today, like I did.
I finally gave in and shimmied up on the sofa so I could pull my phone out of my pants pocket. I’d forced myself not to text Flynn all day—I didn’t want to seem weird or needy, and both of us needed to concentrate on our work—but I was missing our connection.
Me: Hey, I know you’re working right now, but did I leave my AirPods on your nightstand last night?
The reply was immediate.
Firecracker: Sorry, who’s this?
I grinned, the fatigue of the day falling away instantly. Christ, the man made life fun.
Me: Are there many people who could have left their shit on your nightstand last night? Were you entertaining in there while I was asleep?
Firecracker: See, I would have told you Frog Wellbridge was the only one…
Firecracker: But Frog promised this morning that he’d text me when his flight landed. I can only assume he got lost somewhere between Honeybridge and New York.
Firecracker: Too bad. I was just getting used to having him around.
My stomach lurched sideways and landed in a puddle of goo. I liked the idea of him being used to me. I liked it a lot.
Me: Shit. I didn’t remember I was supposed to message. I got to the office at noon and it was go go go all afternoon. Sorry.
Firecracker: Hmph. I’ll forgive you just this once since you were under the influence of a morning blowjob orgasm when you promised. But you’ll owe me. Big time.
I snorted.
Me: Seems fair.
The bubbles by his name floated for a long moment before his reply came through.
Firecracker: Damn. Bad day?
I frowned at the screen. It had been a long, shitty day, especially without Alice to brainstorm and share my workload. I wasn’t sure how Flynn could know that, though.
Me: ???
Firecracker: Dude. You, JT Wellbridge, just agreed that you owe me, no negotiations, no demanding to know my terms. You must’ve had a bad day to be so far off your game.
Firecracker: Or else maybe you really missed freeloading on my bar stool while every person in Honeybridge stops by and gets all up in your business. *laugh emoji*
Firecracker: Be honest. It’s that one, isn’t it? You just can’t get enough stories about Jalissa’s daughter’s drama club rehearsal and how Ernie McLeroy’s arthritic knee proves climate change is real. LOL!
Yeah. Strangely enough, that was exactly it. And it was no laughing matter.
I sat staring at the phone for a long moment, stunned by the truth of this. I didn’t just miss Flynn; I missed… Honeybridge. At least the kind of Honeybridge I’d experienced the last two weeks, with potluck invitations and cookouts at the Retreat and no golfing whatsoever. I missed Flynn’s Honeybridge.
Jesus. How had that happened?
Firecracker: Seriously. You okay? Don’t make me come down there.
God. If only. I wanted him sitting beside me on the couch, calling me Frog and giving me shit.
Me: I definitely would have preferred to be at the Tavern instead of returning emails all day. And my boss called a quarterly meeting for Wednesday morning, which means tons of work for me to get done tomorrow.
Firecracker: If it makes you feel better, you wouldn’t have wanted to be here today either. The air conditioner in the country club’s dining room broke and they had to shut down.
Me: So?
Firecracker: Sooooo I had the entire Honeybridge Gentlepeople’s Society at the Tavern all afternoon discussing whether Queen Anne’s Lace is a wildflower or an invasive species and whether it needed to be eradicated from the roadsides in our fair city.
Me: Dear god. Please tell me my mother wasn’t involved.
Firecracker: Oooh. I could, but I’d be lying.
Firecracker: It got really heated at the end there. Willow has passionate feelings about the sanctity of wildflowers. She kept saying things like, “Well, Patricia, as an HERBALIST…”
Firecracker: And YOUR mother has strong opinions about weeds. She kept saying things like, “Well, Willow, as a person with EYES…”
I snorted.
Me: Was there a bar fight? Did you have to call Sheriff Bliss? Is there video evidence???
Firecracker: Nope. Because then Tam Wickram—they’re the person opening the bike shop on Smith Lane, out near the border of McGillicuddy, you know?—stood up and suggested that Honeybridge should just pave over the roadsides and create a dedicated bicycle lane, and BOTH our mothers lost their minds.
Firecracker: I think Tam might be regretting their decision to move here.