Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
At Margo’s urging, I take a seat just as August enters bringing yet another bowl—buttered carrots, by the look of it. I fuss with my water glass so that our gazes don’t inadvertently collide. The teeth thing still looms in my mind. It’s all I can do not to cover my mouth with my hand. Or grin at him like the Joker just to see him sweat. It’s a toss-up at the moment.
Unfortunately, he decides to take the seat across from me, which means I’ll have to look at him at least a little or make it obvious that I’m avoiding him. Damn it.
I’ve managed not to be in a room with August since my high school graduation. Yet, in a little less than an hour, it’s like he’s suddenly become unavoidable. Glancing at the windows where the rainstorm still rages on, I wonder again if I’ve entered an alternate universe.
When I move to set a napkin on my lap, I find him watching me, a moue of discontent marring his perfect lips. Yeah, well, too bad. I’m more uncomfortable, buddy.
As if he hears my inner monologue, those pretty lips quirk and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He gives me a look that’s not quite apologetic but definitely self-deprecating. The longer I stare, the more his smile grows. A flush works its way under my knit top and up my thighs. Despite my current anti-smile stance, I want to grin and laugh with him. It’s weird. Aside from when we were little kids, we’ve never held meaningful eye contact this long before. He’s never smiled at me like this before.
I would remember that. Mainly because that would have been the day I melted into a puddle of incoherent goo. Events like that tend to get marked in my mental calendar.
“Wine, Penny?”
Margo’s question jerks me back into present company. I blink for a second before accepting a glass of Chardonnay. This time, I do not look August’s way.
Soon, I forget to be flustered. It’s impossible when eating with the Lucks; they’re too boisterous, happily chatting about anything and everything. While Margo’s kids love and respect her, they talk to her in the same way I do with my mom: like a good friend. I wonder if it’s because Margo and Mom are best friends and raised all of us similarly.
March tells us stories about his teammates and how they covered some linebacker named George in red body paint when he was foolish enough to pass out during a party. George had retaliated by slowly replacing all their underwear with a size too small.
“I’m going to miss those guys next year,” he finishes with a sigh.
June and I exchange a look and suppress our snickers.
“I don’t know how you stand it,” May says, spearing a potato with her fork. “Not knowing where you’ll end up after the draft. What if you hate your city?”
March shrugs. “The fuck-load of money they pay me will ease my pain.”
“Language,” Margo murmurs half-heartedly. That’s one difference between her and my mother. Mom is theater folk. Cussing is an art form as far as she’s concerned.
March gives his mother an innocent smile.
June shakes her head. “I swear, I should have been born a boy. These twaddle heads are all going to be loaded just for tossing balls around all day.”
August makes a noise of amusement. Up until now, he’s been fairly quiet; something I’m far more used to from him. “But we’ll be limping around like old men by the time we’re forty.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumps, waving an idle hand. “And you can cry yourself to sleep on a two-thousand-dollar eiderdown pillow.”
“There’s pillows that cost that much?” March asks, intrigued. “Why? And what must that feel like?”
“It better make me weep with joy.” August reaches for his wine. “Or sleep like the dead.”
“You do that anyway.”
“Tell you what,” May says. “You crack open that fat wallet, Augie, and buy me one. I’ll give a full report.”
“Or I could buy myself one and make my own report.”
“That’s no good. You fall asleep anywhere. Which means your pillow choice won’t factor. No, no, what you need is a fussy sleeper. I’ll be your huckleberry.”
August gives her a dry side-eye.
“You know,” Margo says, leaning back to survey us. “It just occurred to me that you and August live in the same city now, Penny.”
I jolt, glancing at August then away. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Liar, liar.
I remember the exact moment I learned he’d been drafted to LA. And exactly how I felt.
I feel his gaze. Heat prickles come back to torment my skin.
“You should have looked her up by now, August,” Margo goes on, in that motherly way, which is apparently oblivious to any embarrassment she might be bestowing on others.
August clears his throat. “I’ve only been in town for a little while.”