Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
This is a temporary thing. We have a month at most, maybe, and then he’ll go back to his life and I’ll go back to mine.
And that’s fine. Better than fine. I don’t want a long-term relationship right now, anyway. I just want to make the most of the time I have with this irresistible man.
Which is something Elaina might be able to help me out with…
“Do you have an idea where I might be able to get some sexy panties around here on short notice?” I ask.
She squeals, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist banging him again. I have a feeling about you two, I swear.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve never even seen us together.”
“But I’ve seen you separately, and you vibrate at the same frequency. And you’re both fucking gorgeous and will make seriously beautiful babies that I can babysit every Friday so you can have a date night.”
“The baby fever still making you insane? Or more insane than usual?”
Her lips turn down. “Yes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not in any position to have a kid. I work all the time, and I don’t have a fuck buddy, let alone a life partner. It’s just stupid hormones, I guess.” Her expression sobers. “Speaking of, you’re using protection with Tall, Sexy, and Frosty, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. And I’m on the pill.”
“Good.” She nods. “Then you don’t have to worry about anything except having fun and showing off your new panties. I have an adorable bra and panty set I bought in August and haven’t had a chance to wear yet. If you’ll watch the cash register, I can run up and grab them.”
“I’m never going to fit into something in your size,” I say, eyeing my tiny friend as she bounces to her feet.
“Of course, you will.” She turns, slapping the back of her fluffy skirt. “I have a big butt for my height. And you’re a C cup, right?”
I nod. “Yes, but—”
“Then you’ll be fine. You’ll probably have to put the strap on the widest clasps, because I’m a little smaller around the ribs, but it’ll be fine.” She winks as she sashays toward the staircase at the back of the café, leading to her apartment on the second floor. “It’s not like you’ll be wearing them that long anyway.”
I try, but I can’t fight the grin pulling at my cheeks. “You make a solid point.”
She squeals again, calling out, “I’m so happy for you,” as she dashes up the stairs.
It’s nice. Supportive. And I know Elaina’s mostly kidding about the marriage and baby stuff.
I don’t even know if I want marriage or babies, especially babies. I love kids, but I don’t think I want to raise one. Either way, it’s never been something I’ve thought about too much. I’ve been so busy keeping our family business alive that the years have slipped away faster than I realized. But as a teenager fresh out of high school, determined to stay in my hometown and help Gramps the way he’d always helped me, I never would have imagined that one day I’d be almost twenty-five, still single, and living above my grandfather’s garage.
Well, the garage part, maybe. Rent prices are insane in Sea Breeze. There just isn’t enough housing to go around. There’s no shame in living in an apartment on a relative’s property, but I would have assumed I would have had someone sharing it with me by now. And I was positive I’d have my associate’s degree in photography from the community college. I started online classes the spring after graduation, as soon as the most active part of lobstering season was over.
But sometime in my first two years of working full time on the boat, I started resenting the fact that I had to spend two evenings a week and a good chunk of my weekends on schoolwork. I busted my ass five to six days a week doing intense, physical labor. On my time off, I wanted to read for fun, go on a hike through the marsh or dancing at the Moose Club, and spend book club nights giggling with my girls.
I gave up on my degree with twelve credits left to graduate. It wasn’t a conscious decision, time just…slipped away from me, and suddenly it had been two years since I’d signed up for classes.
Same thing with dating.
If Weaver hadn’t shown up and shocked me out of my routine, who knows how much longer things would have clicked along the way they’ve been the past six years? Would I have been thirty by the time I finally realized I’d slipped into autopilot and was no longer actively guiding the course of my life?
I don’t know, but the thought scares me a little. It reminds me too much of Dad, lost in the booze haze and only surfacing to take a hard look at his life every few years or so. During those brief episodes of clarity, he’ll come around the house more, his eyes teary and his hands trembling from alcohol withdrawal, promising that he’s going to get a job and help out around the house more.