Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“She’ll just spend the whole time trying to marry you off,” he shouted.
“You mean trying to get you married off,” I reminded him.
“That too,” he said with a laugh. “That woman needs to find a new hobby.”
I chuckled as I made my way across the dusty yard. Just as I climbed the steps up to the wide porch, my cell phone rang. “Boone here,” I said before kicking my boots on the mud scraper by the door. Birdie continued past me into the house, most likely intent on convincing someone inside to give her a treat.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy that grumbly growl of yours? It does things to me, Boone.” The teasing voice on the other end of the line was like a cool, clean breeze on a muggy day.
I smiled, the tension along my shoulders instantly easing. “Oscar, Jesus. Where the hell have you been? I haven’t talked to you in a dog’s age.”
“You name it, I’ve been there,” Oscar said. “And tomorrow, I’m off again.” I sunk into one of the worn rocking chairs lining the porch. There was way too much on my to-do list to sit around lallygagging, and every minute I wasn’t doing something, the list was growing longer. But this was Oscar. I always had time for Oscar.
“Tell me,” I said. I was always eager to hear Oscar’s stories. You’d think that given how wildly our lives had diverged in the years since we’d grown up, we’d have drifted apart, but if anything, it was the exact opposite. Despite building himself a fast-paced life as a self-made multibillionaire, Oscar grounded me. He was a part of my past. He probably knew me better than any other human being in the world. Even a brief attempt at dating in our youth hadn’t been enough to sour our friendship.
“Well, first, I’m heading out to the Maldives in a few days with a couple I met at a party last week. They were looking for a third for a week in the sun. Can’t say I’m up for all that, but I do have a closet full of new bathing suits just desperate to be paraded around in front of a couple of cute guys. I’m trying to decide if I want to wax everything or go natural. I’m getting a little old to make the effort, if I’m being honest.”
It was difficult to hear him over the background noise of the city streets through the phone. Honks and shouts vying for everyone’s attention. Just hearing the audible chaos got my hackles up. It was one of the reasons things between Oscar and me would have never worked. He loved the bustle; I loved the solitude. But I cared about him and always would, so it was damned good to hear he was doing all right and living life to the fullest.
“Bet you look sexy either way,” I said. And it was true. He’d sent me enough photos over the years that I knew exactly what he looked like in his smallest bathing suits. “You still seeing that flight attendant?”
There was a moment of silence. “Flight attendant…? I’ve never…” He trailed off.
“Mile-high club?” I reminded him.
He snorted a laugh. “That doesn’t narrow it down much. I’m a platinum member of that club. I’m the spokesperson, for god’s sake.”
I shook my head. Oscar went through men like I went through hay and feed. “He was the one who did that thing,” I prodded. “With his—ahem, you know…” I didn’t finish the statement, not necessarily wanting to go into specifics. Though that had never stopped Oscar from sharing such details. He lived to make me blush with stories of his exploits.
“Oh, wait. Jordan? Jesus. That was like a thousand years ago.”
“You were totally into him.”
He let out a dismissive pshaw. “I dated him for literally five minutes.”
I chuckled as I pushed a foot against the porch railing, setting my rocking chair in motion. “Can you even call it dating if the only thing you remember about the guy was his one particular… talent? I think I’m beginning to understand why you have so many exes, babe.”
The minute the teasing words were out of my mouth, I regretted them, especially when I was met with a strained silence that I struggled to fill. “Shit, Oscar. I’m sorry. I was joking. I—”
“No, no, you’re right,” he said, cutting me off. “In fact, I came to a similar conclusion myself some time ago. I’m a good friend, and a very good—one might even say magnificent—sexual partner, but I am simply not cut out for romantic relationships.” The brittleness in his tone was clear. I closed my eyes and imagined his attempt to keep his chin from wobbling. My sweet Oscar. He had such a big personality it was sometimes easy to forget that his skin wasn’t nearly as thick as he liked to pretend it was and that his brash exterior hid a bruised and tender heart. I wished I lived close enough that I could fold him into a hug.