Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Nah.” I yank off my shirt and smirk. “Just mostly.”
Her eyes flick over my bare torso before locking on mine. She holds my gaze for a beat too long.
And I hold hers for another beat, and another, my skin suddenly feeling two sizes too tight.
Even from several feet away, I feel the heat passing between us.
I tell myself I’m imagining it. Sally doesn’t want me that way. She’s too smart. Too ambitious. Small-town cowboys don’t turn her on.
I blame the grief and the alcohol for all the mixed-up shit happening inside me right now.
Her eyes finally flick to the gold chain on my chest. She frowns. “Is that—”
“Mom’s ring. Yeah.” I reach up and poke my pinkie through the circlet of gold. It’s so small it doesn’t even get past my first knuckle. “I liked—I needed—I had to keep her close. Sounds weird—”
“It’s not weird. It’s sweet.” Sally’s throat works on a swallow.
Of course she’d say that.
Of course she’d understand.
I’m more than a little self-conscious as I head for the rope swing dangling from a tree on the top of the bluff. I quickly toe off my shoes and lose my jeans so that I’m wearing only my boxers.
Then I grab the rope, step back, and take a running leap over the edge.
My heart thunders inside my chest as I swing out over the water. The familiar way my stomach dips has me laughing and hollering like an idiot. I hear Sally laugh, too, right before I let go of the rope and drop into the river.
The water hits me in a cold, bracing rush. I’m instantly alive, reveling in the pleasure of spreading my arms and legs and just being. I float in a starfish pose for several heartbeats and let myself sink, the chain around my neck catching on my lips.
Down here, it’s just me and my heartbeat. No hollowed-out numbness. No pain. No thought other than, this feels good.
When my lungs start to burn, I kick up to the surface. I shake my hair out of my eyes. The sun has set, but the blue tinge in the air still glows with subtle light.
I immediately look for Sally up on the bluff, but she’s nowhere to be found.
“You coming?” I shout. “Water is perfect.”
“Close your eyes,” she shouts back.
I notice the rope is pulled taut toward the bank. She must’ve grabbed it, and now she’s waiting her turn to take the leap.
Did she strip too? Or did she do the smart thing—she always does the smart thing—and keep her clothes on?
“They’re closed,” I lie.
“You promise?”
“No.”
“Wyatt.”
“All right, all right.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “They’re closed.”
A moment of silence. Then a high, happy shout, a sound that hits me square in the chest.
Can’t help it. I open my eyes and see Sally falling through the air, her face split into a smile.
My stomach seizes when I see she’s only in panties and a bra.
They’re white. Innocent-looking enough.
But then she turns a little, and I see the curve of her ass cheek.
A thong. I nearly bite off my tongue.
Sally is wearing a fucking thong. And while it might be white, it’s edged in lace. Same as the bra.
My dick pulses.
Holy God, am I getting hard for Sally?
I absolutely cannot get hard for Sally. What is wrong with me today? Why can’t I get a grip on, well, everything? My body, my feelings, my thoughts? This was a bad idea.
Our eyes meet just before she hits the water.
Or maybe this was the best idea ever.
“Wyatt, you liar—” she yells, the sound cutting off when she plunges beneath the surface.
My pulse drums an unsteady beat as I wait for her to reappear.
I wait.
And wait.
A flare of panic ignites in my center. Kicking my feet, I turn in the water, frantically looking for her. “Sally? This isn’t funny. Sally! Where—oompf!”
Hands find my stomach and push hard, sending me skidding through the water. Sally’s head breaks the surface a couple of feet away, her brown eyes on fire.
“What was that for?” I sputter.
“Being a shithead.” She splashes me. “What happened to not looking?”
I splash back. “I…was just making sure you were okay.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.” I splash her again.
She shakes her head, her body undulating in time to the strokes of her arms in the water. “Why are you like this?”
“Because.”
Sally grins. “Because you miss me?”
More than you know. “Sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?”
“You miss me?” I’m vaguely aware this conversation is starting to feel flirty. Which is confusing. And awesome. And confusing.
Have Sally and I always flirted and I didn’t know it? Or is this new?
“Sometimes,” she replies, lips twitching.
I’m gripped by the sudden, fierce urge to kiss her.
Before I can process that—before I can drown myself so I don’t do something very, very stupid—Sally does it for me. Drowns me, that is. She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down. She rises out of the water as I fight her, laughter bubbling up the sides of my rib cage.