Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
There was still not much light, but my absolute exhaustion pushed all my scary thoughts away. If a deer, skunk, or intruder tried to mess with me, they’d be the stupid one. I was also a little more rational this morning. Daylight tended to bring back the sanity, just a bit. And I was tired. Tired meant I wasn’t a happy Charlie. I needed coffee before dealing with life, hence I’d chosen the best time for my call to the ex dipshit.
That cheered me a bit.
I was almost smiling when I got to the clearing between the gym courts and the main lounge. Keith had said he wanted it open at five am. I was thirty minutes late, but no one was here. I was pretty sure my job was safe. I unlocked the courts and flipped on all the lights.
The air was still crisp. I had slipped on a sweatshirt over my T-shirt and jean shorts, and shivering, I tugged the zipper up. It went up the side, all the way to my neck. I’d thought it was cute and trendy when I bought it, but it pinched my skin now, and I cringed. Oh well. I liked how it looked, so I was keeping it, even if it made me bleed.
I opened the cage, put Forster’s ball up on the rack since I’d left it on the floor, and grabbed the list of inventory.
I started going through everything, but I was yawning so hard that it was making me tear up by the time I got to the relay equipment. That was three minutes later.
I needed coffee. I didn’t care how distrustful Keith was. I was going to leave the courts unlocked (gasp, then hiss), and I was going to get coffee in the main lobby.
Putting a few basketballs outside the cage door, just in case someone showed up, I headed out. The cage was locked up. My bag was with it, hidden in the back with the hockey sticks, and I was just leaving through the back door when I more sensed them than saw them.
Reese Forster and Juan Cartion were jogging down the walking path.
All in gray, Reese had his hood up and head down, with sweatpants hanging low from his narrow hips. They ended around his calves. His shoes were neon yellow—the entire shoe, even his laces.
As the path broke out from the trees, Juan’s head was up, and his eyes met mine.
They weren’t anywhere close to me, but I still stepped back. My back hit the building behind me, and I stayed put, almost the exact same posture I’d taken last night when Forster brought his ball back to the cage.
Like last time, he never looked up.
He and his best friend ran right past me, going around to the front of the gym building and turning down the path that’d take them to the lake.
I’d swear I saw some amusement in Juan Cartion’s gaze, but I wasn’t sure, and after waiting another few seconds—as if they were going to magically run back—I smoothed a hand over my shirt. My heart was beating so fast.
This was ridiculous.
I couldn’t keep almost having a heart attack every time I saw these guys. They were campers. I was staff.
Three weeks, or more like two and a half weeks.
I was on day two and almost pissing my pants at just the thought of seeing Reese Forster.
I needed a trick. Something to help me calm down.
I needed to think of him naked.
My pulse skyrocketed.
Yeah. That wasn’t going to help.
I needed to... I went through some ideas.
Maybe I could just focus on his penis.
Another skip in my pulse. That wasn’t helping, because I thought of why I would see his penis, and whoa boy—I got lightheaded.
Think of him vomiting.
Nope. I just wanted to help clean him up.
Think of him taking a piss.
And there was that penis again.
The same with taking a dump.
He was naked. He was squatting.
There might’ve been a smell, but there was his body in all its glory. I’ve seen pictures of him playing without his shirt. Goooorgeous.
I bit my lip, squelching a groan. So not helping.
Damian.
That hit me like a bat to my chest.
Everything was gone—the nerves, the flutters, the feeling of just feeling. Thinking of Damian took it all away.
I swallowed over that bark lump. It wasn’t right, or it shouldn’t have been, that just a memory could strip someone of everything.
But it worked.
Owen and Hadley had been running behind on making breakfast when I came in for my coffee. They had a sick kid, so they had to keep taking turns going back to the house to check on little Noah until Owen’s mom got there. They had one of the two houses on the island. Keith had the other. (Boo, hiss)
And speaking of Keith…
In another accidental-genius moment, I snagged a pair of radios and put one in the court and the other in the kitchen. Now I would hear if someone showed up, and like Owen and Hadley with their kid, I’d run out to check on the courts. Until then, I stayed in the kitchen to help with the food. The players were starting to trickle in, and I was behind the dish window again, waiting for Keith to show up for his coffee.