Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“He went for a jog.” I add in a sullen tone, “And I don’t have to run everything by him. Or you.”
“Stay off the ladder.”
“Fine.”
His brown eyes drag over the turquoise walls of the house, the rich color noticeably faded. “You should start thinking about when you want us to paint. I know we usually do it in the spring, but next one’s going to be hectic.”
“I know.” I smooth my hand over my growing belly. I’m due in February, and it’ll be all I can manage to keep up with preparing for high season with a newborn. Nothing will get done around here. “I was thinking maybe next month? Storm season will be over, and it’s always quiet then.” It’s already quiet now. Skye and Rebel left for their last year of college in August, and Lara stepped up in a big way to allow me a break. So big that I’m trying to find a way to keep her on even part-time. The beach chair crew has mostly packed up and left, leaving Rolland to manage the few chair rentals until Frank and Ronan haul everything into storage. Even Ron is gone. The inflatable banana boat was a hit and paid for itself many times over, but the kids are back at school. Plus, Bailey has her USCG Captain’s license so she can cover the odd last-minute weekend booking.
I officially let Jeremy go to his full-time bartending position at Wolf last week, but he’s already talking about how he can swing both jobs next summer. We’ll see if he feels the same way when the time comes.
Bailey’s turned into a fan favorite, her five-star reviews nearly canceling out the bad ones Frank’s earned us. Her seasonal contract with us is coming to an end too, but she’s asked if she could stay in the trailer off-season, and I’ve agreed. I love having her around, and I’ll need every extra pair of hands in the coming months.
Ragged breathing draws our attention to the beach, where Ronan saunters up, bare-chested and skin glistening, his hat on backward as he chugs the last of his water bottle.
My body responds instantly, craving his touch, even though I had it not an hour ago.
“Hey,” he says through pants, his eyes drifting over my little black yoga shorts and matching crop top. “What are you two doing?”
“She asked me to bring the ladder over so she can look at loose siding,” Frank announces.
“Tattletale!” I accuse.
“What?” Ronan groans with frustration. “Come on. I thought we agreed, no ladders for now.”
“I was just going to—”
Bailey’s howl of laughter cuts in to my poor excuse. “Play with the bull and you get its horns!”
“Just wait until you lose a bet, Bails,” Connor warns, always one to hand out a nickname.
“That’s Admiral to you.”
The sound of gravel crunching is the only warning we get before Connor trudges past in nothing but a paisley floral swim thong and his running shoes, muttering to us, “No big deal.”
My jaw drops.
“Tongue back in your mouth, Sea Witch,” Ronan scolds.
“I wasn’t!” But there is very little left to the imagination, as his bare ass cheeks lift with each step, covered only by the fluorescent orange T at the top.
Bailey jogs past in her running gear, her phone aimed to record the entire sordid event. “Rebel and Skye are gonna love this.” They became fast friends the day Bailey started. They talk nearly every day.
“Tell ‘em to eat their hearts out.”
“Yeah? I’m sending it to Britt, too. What should I tell her?”
Connor groans. This buffoon has never shown a shred of embarrassment, but he might actually be close this time.
Meanwhile, Ronan’s jaw clenches, as it does every time there’s any conversation that involves his little sister and his best friend.
“Where are you going?” I’m unable to keep my laughter at bay. These two have struck up a strange friendship.
“To grab a coffee at the Sea Witch,” Bailey says.
“He’s not coming in the shop like that!” Frank bursts.
“That’s okay, he can wait outside and greet your customers!” Bailey grins as she rushes to catch up.
“That’s about four miles each way, and Connor’s not in shape for running,” Ronan muses.
And it’s past the hotel. I check my watch. It’s early, but there’ll be people out. “He’s going to be hugging his knees by the time he gets there.”
“Great, because Connor’s hairy ball sac is what customers want to see when they come for their morning coffee,” Frank mutters, marching away. “No fucking ladders, Parker!”
“O-kay.” I roll my eyes as I resettle in a butterfly pose on my mat. “What do you have planned for today?”
Ronan stretches his arms over his head, his gaze drifting out to the emerald-green water—still warm despite the cooler temperature. “I was going to get Tiki Three out of the water this morning so Frank can do his thing before we put it in storage. Then I have a meeting at the county office.”