What Happens at the Lake Read Online Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
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Porter took his time moseying over to my place. He came back with the bucket in one hand and a Pop-Tart in the other.

“Don’t you ever get any flavors except brown sugar cinnamon?”

“Don’t you ever ask to go into someone’s kitchen and raid the cabinets?”

He ignored me and continued to chomp away at the Pop-Tart. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Josie out? She’s freaking hot, man.”

I didn’t like the knot I felt in my stomach even thinking about Porter laying a finger on Josie, but I’d never hear the end of it if I warded him off. “I’m not her keeper.”

“Great.”

Since the sheetrock was done and I wasn’t half as fast as Porter when it came to spackling, I decided to go next door and get a few fans to help the drying process. The humidity on the lake in July kept everything wet for days. While I was there, I got a call from a subcontractor I’d been trying to reach all week. By the time I returned to the neighbor’s, Josie was back from the store. And fucking Porter was already making moves.

He stood behind Josie real close, his hand covering hers as he guided the spackle knife around the wall. I felt like punching him.

“Hey, boss.” The fucker grinned. “Josie’s a real natural. Painting landscapes is also one of her hobbies, same as me.”

“Oh yeah?” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

“I’m not very good,” Josie said. “And I haven’t done it in years.”

“That’s a shame,” Porter drawled. “Maybe you should change that. The lake at sunset makes a beautiful subject.”

She smiled. “I’m sure it does.”

“I have an extra easel. I can drop it by one day…”

“Oh, I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

I’d had to give Porter the all clear to keep the town’s rumor mill quiet, but I didn’t need to stand here and watch him spin his stupid web. I cleared my throat. “I’ve got it from here, Porter. Thanks for the hand.”

He frowned. “I still need to finish three walls.”

“I can handle it.”

“But I’m quicker.”

“If you want to work today, you can head over to the high school job we’re backed up on. I was planning on waiting until the HVAC system went in to catch up, so there was some air when the temps hit ninety like it’s supposed to today. But if you’re itching to work…”

Porter held his hands up. “I’m good.”

“Alright then.” I nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He took his time collecting his shit, then walked over to Josie. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“You, too, Porter. Thanks so much for helping out. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime. I mean that. You need a hand with anything around here, just give a holler. In fact, let me give you my number in case you want to reach me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Josie walked into the kitchen, grabbed her phone from the table, and handed it to Porter. He grinned as he typed in his number, then used her phone to call his. “Now I have your number, too.”

“Thanks again.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by with that easel sometime soon.”

She smiled politely, but didn’t encourage him. My not employee of the month tipped his baseball hat to me on his way out. “Have a good one, boss.”

“Yep. Later.”

Once he was gone, I went about spackling the living room.

“What can I do?” Josie said.

“Nothing. This is the last of it for today.”

She looked around the room. “I can’t believe you got all this done in only a few hours. This would’ve taken me weeks, at least.”

“It’s what I do.”

She sat on the ladder. “How did you go from hockey to contractor?”

“Blew out my knee. Wasn’t even thirty yet. Needed something to do with the rest of my life.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. Was it during a game?”

I looked away. “Nope.”

Josie was quiet for a minute. I could tell she was waiting for me to say more. “How did you learn to do everything?” She grinned. “I bet it was YouTube videos, right?”

I chuckled. “My father was a contractor. I worked for him from the time I was twelve. He wanted me to have a backup plan in case things didn’t work out with hockey. I was convinced I was going to be a superstar, so I thought it was unnecessary. Turned out he was right after all.”

“I wanted to be a ballerina when I was little.”

“Oh yeah? You’re a good dancer then?”

“No. I’m terrible.” She laughed. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”

An energetic knock on the old metal screen door made Josie jump. I hadn’t heard anyone come up the driveway either.

“Is this Forty-Six Rosewood?”

“Yes?”

“I have a dumpster delivery. You want it in the driveway?”

“Oh. Yes, I’m sorry. Let me move my car for you.”

Josie grabbed her keys and went outside. When she came back, the sound of a backup alarm chirped as the delivery truck positioned a small dumpster up the driveway in reverse.



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