Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
We go down to the water and wade into the surf. The water’s warm and crystal clear straight to the sandy bottom, like the kind you only see in cruise commercials. It’s incredible.
“Did you see that?” Tucker points over my shoulder as we walk into deeper water.
Dread fills my stomach. “Oh no, is it Alexander?” I search the waves but don’t see any nineteenth century porcelain dolls floating by.
“No, something popped out of the water.”
“What, a shark?” Oh hell no. I frantically back away toward the shore, but Tucker grabs my arm.
“There it was again.” When I don’t bite, he becomes more emphatic. “Seriously. You didn’t hear the splash?”
“I know you’re full of shit.” I smack water at him.
“Why would I lie?” he insists with those big, innocent eyes. “Look, there.” He points again.
I glance over my shoulder, humoring him. The moment I do, something grazes my leg underwater. I cry out louder than my dignity likes, momentarily fearful before rounding on a laughing Tucker.
“You, asshole. I knew you were going to do that.”
“But you still fell for it.”
I smack another handful of water in his face just as he lets out a pained cry.
“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes at him. “It’s just water.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” Tucker’s tone is laced with fake suffering. “Something got me,” he grinds out.
“I’m not falling for it twice, babe.”
“No. Damn it. Something really fucking got me.”
He then darts for shore. I’m not convinced until I see him twisting around to examine the back of his leg. I slosh through the water after him, and when I get closer, I realize there’s a big red lash on his flesh, like the mark from a whip.
“I was stung,” he growls. “I think I was stung by a jellyfish.” Tucker plops down on his ass and lies back on the sand, handsome face contorting in agony. “Fuck, this hurts.”
Yeah, he’s definitely not lying. The skin is already puckered and swollen, bumps forming around the bright red marks.
“What do we do?” I blurt out. “Should I pee on it?”
Tucker jumps back into a sitting position. “What? Hell no.”
“I think I’m supposed to, aren’t I?”
“Babe, I’m not letting you pee on me. That’s not even a real thing.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
He grits his teeth, still staring at the reddish-purple wound. “Man, it hurts.”
“Oh my God, do you think this was some sort of cosmic punishment for drowning Alexander? Did Willie’s spirit get its revenge?”
Tucker thinks it over. Then he says, “No.” He glares at me. “I think I just got stung by a jellyfish.”
“What happens if we don’t do something?” I bite my lip in anguish. “I don’t think calamine lotion fixes that.”
This isn’t exactly a little bee sting. What if his whole leg puffs up like that? Do they amputate for jellyfish stings?
“I think urine is the best solution, Tuck.” I do an internal body scan and then moan. “You know, I don’t think I can,” I realize. “I don’t have to go—”
I halt when I see the fitness guy approaching us. Oh thank God. I flag him down, waving my arms. His pace quickens as he jogs toward us.
“Sabrina, no,” Tucker warns. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Everything okay?” the guy asks when he reaches us. Dark eyes sharply assess Tucker.
“Will you pee on my husband?” I ask the stranger. “He got stung by a jellyfish, but I don’t have to go.”
“Ignore her. Sabrina, I’m telling you, it’s a myth. I’ll be fine.”
But he looks like he’s on the verge of tears and at risk of cracking a tooth with how hard he’s biting down, grinding his jaw. His leg looks horrible.
“I don’t know if it’s a myth,” Fitness Guy tells him. “I mean, why would everyone say to do it if it didn’t work?”
I implore Tucker with my eyes. “Let him try.”
My husband remains stubbornly against the idea. “I’d rather you cut it off with a rusty spoon.”
“I’m not bringing you home to Mama Tucker with one leg! Do you remember how long it took her to warm up to me?” I’m practically vibrating from the stress of the situation.
Fitness Guy glances at me. “Take a breath, sweetheart. I can help him out. It’s the neighborly thing to do, right?”
Then, to my relief and Tucker’s horror, the guy begins to unbutton his cargo shorts—just as another man in a linen shirt and panama hat comes tearing up the sand.
“Bruce, what on Earth are you doing to these people?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I assure the newcomer. “I asked him to pee on my husband’s leg. He was stung—”
Tucker groans. “I’m still emphatically against this idea, Bruce.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Bruce shrugs. He’s in the process of unzipping now. “Right?”
The new arrival takes off his hat and dabs the sweat from his forehead, biting back a laugh. “That’s an old wives’ tale. There is absolutely no evidence to suggest urine soothes a jellyfish sting or any other kind. In fact, some studies suggest it would exacerbate the pain and swelling.”