Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She stretches her arms over her head and laughs. “I am,” she admits as I step off the boat and onto the dock. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to get in the work early.”
“Well, see you later.” I walk down the dock, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder.
“You think she is as anxious as us?” I ask Beatrice as we walk out the gate. “She was sitting in the dark in the middle of the night.” I look back at her boat, and all I see is the light from her keyboard. “That’s not safe, is it?” I ask, walking down the sidewalk. I take a sip of coffee. “She’s pretty, right?” I smile when I picture her. “Yeah, she’s more than pretty.” Beatrice walks beside me sniffing, not even paying attention to what I’m saying. “She’s way out of my league.” I shake my head, taking another sip of coffee. “Her brother will kick my ass if I even think about it. Who the hell would want their sister with a basket case?” I laugh. “No one, that’s who.”
The walk is longer than I want it to be, and I don’t even know if I’m doing it on purpose or not. But when Beatrice starts to pant, I make our way back. She walks ahead of me down the ramp toward the dock. I walk down with the leash in one hand and the empty coffee cup in the other. The table where she was sitting when I left is empty, the coffee cup and phone both gone. Walking onto my boat, I slip off my shoes and walk inside. Tossing the leash on the couch, I get Beatrice’s bowl and walk over to the sink, turning on the cold water while I prepare her food. I’m pouring her food in her bowl when I hear a knock and look up to see it’s Vivienne. Seeing her standing there with a plate in her hand, the smile just automatically fills my face. “Come in,” I invite, and she opens the door, stepping in.
“Hi,” she greets, smiling at me and then looking down at Beatrice. “I made breakfast. Nothing fancy, just some omelets.” She looks down at the plate nervously. “And some fruit that I left outside.”
“Is that for me?” I ask her as I fill the bowl with water.
“I mean, I made enough for two, but yes”—she offers me the plate—“it’s for you.”
“Will you be joining me?” I ask, trying not to make her feel even more anxious. I can’t even imagine how she felt walking over here.
“If you don’t mind, we can eat at my place.”
I walk over to her after putting down the bowl. “Wherever you want to eat,” I tell her as I stand in front of her. A soft little strand of hair has fallen out of her top bun, and my hand wants to come up and tuck it behind her ear.
“We can eat out on the deck right here.” She turns and walks out to the little table. “So Beatrice isn’t alone.”
I laugh at her. “Like she would let me leave her anywhere.” I shake my head. “I’ll make coffee. What do you take in it?”
“Whatever you have,” she tosses over her shoulder. “I’m going to go grab the fruit.” I watch her walk away. She’s wearing yoga pants again, and they literally show her ass to perfection.
“Those should be illegal,” I mumble, walking over to the coffee machine. I make two coffees, and when I walk outside, she is sitting down on the long bench with Beatrice next to her.
“I would have come to help, but”—she looks at Beatrice—“she needed some love.” She rubs her head, and Beatrice turns on her side.
Sitting down in the chair, I hand her the cup of coffee. “So I have to ask,” I say, grabbing a fork and cutting a piece of the omelet straight from the plate. “Did you google me last night?”
She throws her head back and laughs, the sound making my stomach feel like when you are on a roller coaster and you are going up the big first turn, as it slows down and you dangle there at the top, right when it drops you. That is what it feels like listening to her laughter. “I did not.” She grabs her own fork and cuts a piece of omelet before she stabs a strawberry.
I gasp. “Wow, you really do respect boundaries.”
It’s her turn to gasp. “Oh my God,” she says, grabbing a piece of watermelon from the bowl. “Did you google me?”
“No,” I tell her. Technically, I’m not lying. I actually didn’t do it last night. She’s never asked about it before. I look over at Beatrice, who just looks at me, knowing I’m full of shit.
“Considering that there are no boundaries in my family,” she states with a smile, and it’s a real smile. “My family is always pushing their noses in other people’s business, so I like to respect everyone else. I’m the last one to know anything because I don’t ask.” She shrugs. “Besides, Google can also be wrong sometimes.”