Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“He likes to listen to the engine,” Grant explained. He blew a ring of smoke from the cigar he’d lit a few minutes ago and held it up. “I think he comes for these more than anything these days. My grandmother won’t let him smoke anymore—not since he lit one and walked away and the rug caught on fire.”
“That’s just as well. They’re not good for you. And I never understood the appeal anyway. You don’t even inhale. I always thought they were a kind of phallic symbol men like to flaunt.”
Grant examined his cigar and grinned. “Glad I got the extra-thick Cohiba now.”
“Seriously, what’s the appeal with cigars?”
“It’s more about the moment it forces you to take. Sitting out here without this cigar in my hand, I’d probably take out my phone and scroll after a few minutes—or get up and do something around the boat. But a good cigar causes me to sit back and take a minute, reflect on my day or the beauty around me.” His eyes roamed my face, and his gaze heated. “There’s a lot to appreciate at the moment.”
Rather than squirm under his scrutiny, I opted to retake control. He had the cigar in the hand opposite me, so I leaned over him and plucked it from his fingers.
“Show me how to do this.” I raised the smoldering cancer stick to my lips.
Grant arched a brow. “You’re going to smoke my cigar?”
“Does that bother you?”
A dirty grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Of course not. You’re welcome to wrap your lips around my Cohiba.”
I rolled my eyes, but a shiver moved through me, even though there was no breeze.
“Hold it up to your lips.”
“Okay.”
“Pretend you’re sucking through a straw. But don’t inhale. Just take the smoke into your mouth and then blow it out. Don’t pull the air in deep from your diaphragm.”
I did what he instructed—at least I thought I did. But after I inhaled, I inadvertently swallowed some of the smoke and started to cough.
Grant chuckled. “I told you not to inhale.”
I sputtered. “Apparently that’s easier said than done.” I held out the cigar, and he took it back.
We sat together in quiet after that for a while. Grant kept his eye on Pops, who had his head buried in the engine on the other side of the boat while he tinkered. I looked around at the other boats and the marina.
“You must get some beautiful sunsets here.”
“I do.”
“Probably romantic. Do you bring your conquests here to get them in the mood?”
Grant brought his cigar to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the end. I was slightly turned on by the sight, especially knowing my lips had been there earlier. He puffed four or five times, then blew out a thick cloud of white smoke. “If by conquests you mean dates, then the answer is no. I don’t bring them here to get them in the mood.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t.”
A loud slam brought our attention back to Pops. Grant jumped up, but it had only been his grandfather letting the engine hatch door drop.
Pops brushed his hands together. “Still as sexy as the day she purred to life for the first time. The carburetor could probably use an adjustment though. You’ll get better fuel efficiency with a little tweaking.”
“I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Pops.”
“You two kids ready to go? I need my beauty sleep.”
“Ready whenever you are.” Grant stood and attempted to help his grandfather up the gangplank and over to the dock, though Pops wasn’t having it. He swatted Grant’s hand away and climbed off the boat on his own.
Grant and I exchanged smiles, and I let him help me off the boat. The three of us walked together back to the waiting car.
It was a short ride back to Grant’s grandparents’ house, and Pops climbed out of the car as soon as we stopped. Grant hopped out to follow him.
When he got to the front door of the house, Pops turned back and yelled, “Goodbye, Charlize!”
I poked my head out the car door. “Later, Balls!”
Pops spoke to Grant, although I could still hear him. “Boy, she’s a looker, ain’t she?”
Grant smiled. “That she is, Pops. That she is.”
The two men disappeared inside, and a few minutes later, a woman I assumed was Grant’s grandmother opened the door again. She hugged Grant, and he waited until the door was closed, then double-checked to make sure it was locked before coming back to the car.
He climbed inside and shut the door. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh no. Don’t be. Your grandfather is a pistol. That was fun, and your boat is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you get to use it often?”
Grant hesitated before answering. “Every day. I live on it.”
“Really? That’s very cool.” I raised an eyebrow. “But you said you don’t bring dates on the boat.”