Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
He pointed to the left of us.
And kept talking.
“No running water. No heat. Electricity from a generator. He bathed in the lake. What he couldn’t cook on an old Weber outside, he ate at the Double D. First thing I did when I came home was tear that shack down.”
This didn’t surprise me.
“How did your mom die?”
“Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry. She sounded like something.”
He nodded. “She was beautiful. She was ballsy. She met a guy who loved her more than himself and moved him into her ex-husband’s house that she did not own, but Dad never turned her out, and they lived it up. Until he stood at her side through the shit of cancer. He lives in an RV now, on the road, chasing the end, lost without her. Just like Dad. When she was done with him, he was lost without her. Problem with him was, he was lost when he was with her too.”
“I’m getting the whole ‘beer whenever’ thing now,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Did you like your stepfather?”
“Learned how to love from him, what I didn’t learn from Mom.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’d be correct.”
I studied his profile. “You’re messing up my puzzle.”
His body shifted in surprise against mine. “What?”
“The Cade Bohannan I met after his daughter came ’round to alleviate her boredom and curiosity, defying your punishment. Mr. The Fewer Words Spoken is not this Mr. Let It All Hang Out.”
He roared with laughter.
Since he had never done that around me, I was both struck and captivated.
The moon was diffused by clouds.
His outside lights were on, they dispelled some darkness, but they didn’t fully reach us.
I could see him, yet he was in shadow.
And he was beautiful.
However.
“What’s funny?”
“Fuck, I wanna kiss you,” he muttered to the lake, his beard still forming a grin.
I turned in the curve of his arm.
“Why did you say that?”
I asked this instead of, why don’t you do it?
He looked down at me.
“Larue, you’re you.”
“That’s indisputable.”
“You’re pretty as hell. Famous as fuck. Talented like crazy. And I’d been a fan of yours for thirty years. I was pissed at my girl. Worried about her. And I had to show at your place to get her, try not to embarrass her. And try not to embarrass myself.”
“You were…nervous?” I asked in shock.
He turned more to me. “Babe, you’re pretty as hell. Famous as fuck. Talented like crazy. I watched you on TV for over seven thousand minutes, and your show was funny, but like I said, I tuned in for you. I read your book three times. You open the door and you’re prettier in person and your ass is better than when you were twenty-four. So, fuck yeah, I was nervous.”
“So you weren’t talkative at first because you were nervous?”
“Nope,” he answered. “Got over that real quick when I realized you wanted to jump me.”
I sat back into the chair and glowered at the lake. “I so should have put on sunglasses.”
He chuckled and squeezed my shoulders with his arm.
“Then you wouldn’t shut up so I couldn’t get a word in edgewise,” he went on.
“You can really stop talking now,” I invited.
He didn’t accept my invitation.
“Though, that Five Voices of Criticism was some deep shit, baby.”
I was rethinking my desire to jump him, or vice versa (though, not really).
“And in my hermetically sealed box, I filed away that you’re one serious hardass. A small-minded chemistry teacher, who will mean dick to my beautiful daughter in the glorious life she’s gonna lead, under your chopping block? I’d advise against the school board. There aren’t enough teachers in the country to pass your tests.”
“You keep speaking, but I might never do it again,” I warned.
He gave me another squeeze.
“I don’t talk a lot because you can’t observe when you’re flapping your mouth,” he explained.
A point to ponder.
“Right.”
“But we can’t get to know each other if I don’t tell you about me.”
“Right again.”
“You pissed?”
He sounded surprised.
As he would be, since I wasn’t pissed seeing as there was nothing to be pissed about, even the teasing, which was sweet.
I was disappointed.
“No. I’m upset because I wanted to jump you so much, I didn’t realize you were nervous and that was probably cute. But instead, all I saw was hot.”
“I’m not broken up about that,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes at the mist on the lake.
It lightened because headlights hit it.
We both turned, nearly bumping heads as we watched the Mustang pull in, followed closely by silver Ram (Jess) and black Ram (Jace).
The Mustang skidded to an angry halt and Bohannan murmured, “Oh fuck.”
“I’m thinking she wasn’t a fan of chaperones.”
We both stood.
Wearing nice burgundy cords and a cute pink sweater, a tan, cropped jean jacket fashionably accompanying these, Celeste tramped down to the pier.
Jess got out and headed our way.
Jace got out and did the same.