Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Me too.” Finally. I’d only waited all damn week for him to seek me out, either to provide feedback on the plans I’d left with him after our impromptu swim lesson or to discuss that moment. I swore he’d been about to kiss me. Perhaps hopelessly bad at floating was an underrated aphrodisiac? Or maybe he’d been that impressed by how I’d taken charge when I’d thought Legend was in trouble in the water? Whatever the case, he was here now.
“I’ve been scaling back your plans—”
“You’ve been what?” My squawk was just as off-key as Jaden’s earlier. I’d thought Merry was here to talk.
“To something more manageable.” Merry gestured like my plans were vague things that could be easily dismissed. “But we need to go over the ideas and finalize—”
“You’ve been dodging me all week.” I shot him a pointed look, and he at least had the grace to blush.
“I’ve been busy.” Huffing, he stuffed his hands in his paint-stained cargo pant pockets. “But I find myself with a kid-free evening after I drop the boys off at an outdoor club event in a little while.”
“I could be equally free after I walk the girls back to Cara.” I brightened considerably at the notion of time alone with Merry, both to sell him on my big ideas and to see if any more…moments erupted.
“Would you like to meet at the food truck pod on the other side of the school? We need to confirm a couple of vendors, and I’m starving.”
“Sure.” It was a distance from Cara’s house, but I routinely walked all over Manhattan. Taxi fares added up, and I preferred to save my pennies for my wardrobe. Also, I wasn’t about to ask Merry for a ride. This wasn’t a date. It was business.
Yet my chest thrummed as I strolled from Cara’s house, where I’d left the girls eating an early supper of mozzarella sticks and chicken fingers, to the haphazard collection of food trucks in a battered old parking lot near an even more ancient baseball field between the pod and the school. I was careful to maintain an easy pace. Not a date, but it wouldn’t do to arrive all sweaty and out of breath.
“Oh, there you are.” Merry waved as I approached the nearest truck.
“You were waiting?” I drew myself up a little taller.
“Nah.” Merry shrugged. “More that I kept watching the parking lot, not the path. I’m surprised you aren’t borrowing your brother’s SUV.”
“First, that thing is a boat.” I made a sour face. Craig loved to drive, to the point that he owned a huge family SUV along with a smaller, more nimble Jeep for off-roading that he’d ordered me not to touch. Typical big brother. I’d made a few halfhearted stabs at learning to drive, but I seldom left New York City, so it simply wasn’t a priority. “Second, I don’t much drive.”
“Similar to how you don’t much swim?” Merry’s skeptical tone said he was on to me.
“Something like that.” My face heated. Merry had likely been surfing by three and driving as soon as it was allowed. “Should we start with getting something to eat or talking to the vendors?”
“Vendors. Get the business part done, then we can eat.”
Merry had brought a clipboard with flyers for the festival as well as a signup sheet. The taco truck and the waffle truck were already on board for the festival, and Merry managed to drum up interest from the Hawaiian shaved-ice stand as well. Despite my irritability over Merry’s lack of communication that week, I was impressed by how he knew someone at almost every truck. And not only names—he knew about kids, school, hobbies, and more, bantering his way around the semi-circle of food trucks.
He’d joked I should be a salesman, but he was far better at gaining people’s trust and agreement than I’d ever been.
“You really seem to know everyone.” I tried to match Merry’s longer strides as we headed to the last truck, which offered Polynesian staples like garlic chicken and shrimp, beef fried rice, and more. “Did you grow up around here?”
“More on North Shore, but yes, I’ve always lived on Oahu. My parents own the surf shop my grandparents started. Dad and Grandpa still surf.” Merry delivered this fact off-handedly like it wasn’t absolutely fascinating. “And as for knowing everyone at the food trucks, I don’t like cooking, but my kids sure enjoy eating.”
“I’m the same way.” I offered a conspiratorial smile, and for once, Merry returned it. “My fridge back home is mainly takeout containers and coffee creamers.”
“Creamers plural?” He raised both eyebrows.
“It pays to have options.” I bristled because he undoubtedly lived on alfalfa and carrot juice and never let caffeine touch his perfect lips. However, I had to swallow back my irritability as Merry turned on his charm for the older woman in charge of the Hula Yum truck.