Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Yeah. It’s huge. We have to use a four-wheeler when we’re going to the waterfall because it’s too far to walk from the cabin.”
Cabin…
Hmm….
“I think I have the beginnings of a plan,” I say, shushing her when she starts to squeal. “But we have to keep this quiet. The first rule of Parent Trap Club is we don’t talk about Parent Trap Club with anyone but each other.”
She presses a fist to her mouth, hiding her smile. “Okay, but I’m so excited. I knew you’d help me! I just knew it. We can do this! I know we can!”
“Maybe, with a little luck,” I say, my lips curving. “Let’s get a piece of cake and discuss things further at one of the tables in the corner, where we won’t be overheard.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to talk fast,” she says, following me over to the dessert table, where Tessa and my brother, Wes, are about to cut the first slices of their giant cake. “Dad said we were leaving after cake.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll give you my phone number, in case we need to follow up. Do you have a phone?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I can call from the phone at my house or at Grammy’s.”
“You should use the one at your grammy’s. That way your dad won’t get suspicious if he looks at his call records and sees a strange number.” I pause, reconsidering my words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I turn to her, frowning as I say, “You realize you shouldn’t do something like this with any other grown-up ever, right? Not even one you think is nice? I’m a stranger. I could be horrible and awful and dangerous.”
She snorts in amusement. “You’re not a stranger. You’re Binx’s sister, and she said you were great and super smart and that I should say hi to you.”
“She did?” I ask, touched. I’ve always thought Binx was great—she’s my cool as hell older sister—but I wasn’t sure the admiration went both ways.
“She did. And I know not to call weird grown-ups. I’m not stupid.”
I twist my lips to one side, still not feeling great about colluding with a child without her parent’s knowledge. But considering the nature of our collusion, I can’t very well ask Seven for permission to call his kid. “I think we should tell your grammy about our plan,” I say, figuring that’s a decent compromise. “And if she’s on board, then we can move forward.”
Sprout groans. “Oh, come on. I’m big enough to call people on my own. And Grammy’s going to say no.”
“Maybe not. Not if we have a solid plan, and she realizes I’m on board, too. There’s strength in numbers.”
She grunts. “Maybe. But the plan is going to have to be really good.”
“It will be,” I assure her with a grin. The more I think about this, the more it seems like it actually might be easy. I know my sister better than almost anyone, and Sprout and her grandmother know Seven inside and out.
If we can’t figure out a way to get these lovebirds out of the tree and on the road to happily ever after, who can?
And what’s the worst that can happen?
Binx and Seven don’t take the bait and remain “just friends?” That’s not so bad. It’s just a continuation of the status quo, nothing catastrophic.
Catastrophic…
It’s a word that will soon come back to haunt me.
Very, very soon…
Chapter 4
BINX
Monday morning dawns bright and sunny. The sky is blue, the fall leaves in my backyard are vibrant and glorious, and I have my kitchen cleaned and oatmeal muffins in the oven by nine a.m.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.
That I’m forgetting something or overlooking something or…something.
“It’s because I’m not getting ready for work,” I tell Mr. Prickles, my pet thimble cactus.
I love furry pets, but my family has enough crazy animals, and I’m the designated pet sitter for all of them. I wasn’t sure I could find a pet that would be okay with occasionally sharing our space with a skunk, a horny squirrel, and a growing flock of turkeys.
Besides, Mr. Prickles is adorable.
And he’s a great listener, a fact he proves by continuing to hang on my every word as I explain, “For years and years, I would have been dressed in scratchy business clothes and out the door by now. I just need to learn to relax and enjoy my new schedule.”
Lydia, my tattoo mentor and new boss, closes her shop on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays, which means I now have a three-day weekend every weekend. I’ll also have either Friday night or Saturday night off. That’s part of the reason Lydia wanted to take on a partner, so she could go see her husband’s band play more often.
I’ll have so much more free time than I did before with only a slight decrease in pay, and that should turn around once I build a reputation and start booking regular clients who want larger pieces. I started tattooing actual people instead of melons and oranges about six months ago, but I’m still at the stage of my career where I mostly handle walk-ins and people wanting smaller stuff.