Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I need you to stay here tonight,” I blurted.
His eyes widened even more. “I can’t. I’m due at my family’s place for a dinner thing. I’d invite you, but I know you—”
“I’ll come!”
“You will?” The surprised expression turned suspicious. “Why?”
My breathing was coming fast. “You sure you don’t want to stay here?”
“With you?”
“No, I…” I blew out a breath. “Your family invited me to the cookout.”
Comprehension dawned on his face. “And you’re freaking out.”
“Pfft. Pffttttt. Pft.”
Tommy’s grin was offensively wide. “Oh man, this is going to be incredibly fun.”
It wasn’t fun. Not one single bit of it was fun.
“Your great-great-aunt is going to give me a tattoo in my private places,” I whispered as we walked around the back of the giant log building that had been in their family for several decades. I’d already known the family was wealthy based on things I’d heard from Trace and around town, but seeing the scale of it still took me by surprise and didn’t help one bit with my nerves.
Tommy snapped his head around. “I’m sorry, what?”
“She’s going to call me Sergeant Man Meat or Thigh Mountain. And she’s going to fix you up on dates, probably in front of me. She’s been dying to set you up with people, and she definitely doesn’t like me. I’m guessing she already has someone here to set you up with. The fire marshal, maybe. He’s good-looking, if a little mature for you.”
“The… fire marshal? Is too mature for me? Are you saying I’m immature?”
“Tommy,” I urged. “Focus, okay? We need a plan. Like, a signal or something. If Tilly starts asking me about my feelings, I’ll make this sign.”
I tapped two fingers on my forearm. “You know this one, right? It means I need help.”
He laughed. “It means medic.”
“Same thing. And if you need rescuing, all you need to do is—oh hi!”
I forced a grin at Tommy’s cousin Ella, who approached us as soon as we rounded the corner of the lodge. People were standing in clusters across a low, wide deck and the stone patio beyond. Music played from hidden speakers, and lit tiki torches wafted the faint scent of citronella into the evening air.
The sun hadn’t dropped behind the mountain yet, and it lay fat, golden stripes on the grass between the trees.
“So, I take it this means we’ve progressed past the ‘roommates who only kissed that one time in Hawaii by accident’ stage?” Ella asked, her gaze darting between us.
“Twice,” I said without thinking.
Tommy closed his eyes and groaned. “She did that on purpose to get you to correct her. It’s her favorite trick.”
Ella snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Gotcha.”
I shot a pleading look at Tommy. “See? See why I keep saying no? I’m outgunned.”
Ella frowned in sympathy. “You brought a knife to a nuke fight. Listen, I get it. It must be intimidating to walk into a group of forty to fifty people who saw you wearing Tommy’s shirt in Hawaii and would literally murder anyone who made Tommy cry, but—”
Tommy muttered an apology before grabbing Ella and dragging her a few feet away. While they spoke, I glanced around to see if I could find any friendlies in the crowd.
Tilly was making a beeline for me with a red Solo cup in each hand. Following behind her at a more dignified pace was an elegant-looking older man who looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Chest Almighty,” she said, shoving a cup of draft beer in my hand. “Here ya go. Liquid courage. Don’t say I never gave you nothin’. Come find me later.”
As soon as she was there, she was gone again.
I took an appreciative sip of the beer and relished the crisp coolness as it slid down my throat.
An older guy with strawberry blond hair approached and reached out a hand to shake. “You must be Foster Blake,” he said. “I’m Blue Marian, Ella’s dad. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you.”
Before I could say a word, a stream of people joined him. First, another attractive older man appeared and slid his arm around Blue. “I’m Tristan. Whatever Blue is telling you, ignore him. We’re happy you’re here.”
A tall guy with a beard and a flannel open over a tee that said, Only Hunt with a Zoom Lens, eyed me up and down. “This him?”
I stood up a little straighter and tried to remind myself I was a Wyoming sheriff. I didn’t get intimidated; I did the intimidating.
“Thank you for having me. It’s nice to take a break from SERA. Trace said you serve a mean burger.”
A shorter man I recognized as a famous country music singer shot me a friendly smile. “We also have a lovely beet salad and a giant fruit bowl.”
I felt like a bug, not under a microscope but smashed flat on the windshield of a vehicle doing a hundred miles an hour in a speed zone.