Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
God, I was so pathetic.
I walked past the sofa occupied by Lucian, KC, and Noa—with Cam sitting on the ground between Lucian’s feet.
Everyone was so fricking tan from the cruise. As if I didn’t already struggle with my glow-in-the-dark complexion.
There was an empty chair between Lucian’s sofa and the one I assumed Ash would share with Penelope and maybe someone else, so I sat down there with my cider.
“Excuse me, Sir?” I leaned closer toward Lucian, and he pushed pause on his conversation with KC and Archie. “May I speak with Cam?”
“Of course, dear. He’s not on speech restrictions at the moment.” He combed his fingers through Cam’s hair.
Cam glanced up at me, curious.
“Reese told me about a breakfast order…?” I asked rather than stated.
“Oh yeah.” Cam sat a little straighter and twisted his body to face me better. “We’re ordering from a place in Tysons—I’ll send you the link to the menu and Venmo details right now.”
“Cool, thank you.” I smiled and sat back to get comfortable, and I idly wondered if I might find a blanket somewhere. It was warm enough right now, but I had a feeling it would get chilly in an hour or so.
My phone vibrated on the armrest, so I picked it up with a pinch of relief. Everyone was coupled up or grouped off, speaking quietly among one another, and my usual social lube was sitting with Shay so they could eye-fuck their guitar-playing men.
So far, it was just strumming and tuning, but it was clear that country was the chosen genre for this bunch.
Colt’s accent fascinated me. Texas stood out from most Southern accents I’d heard in the US, and many Texans didn’t even refer to themselves as Southern. They were simply Texan.
Colt wasn’t one of those, though. Within ten minutes of my meeting him, he’d squeezed in the word Southern at least three times.
“If you ever need help, look no further than to the community’s favorite Southern Sadist.”
Kinda humble, if you asked me. He could’ve said the world’s greatest or the country’s finest.
Either way, he was very funny to listen to. He wasn’t thinking about drinking; he was thankin’ about drankin’.
Much like Penelope, he had a personality that reeled people in, though in a whole other way. Penelope wasn’t loud or jumping into the next spotlight. Colt was a natural storyteller and thrived in the company of others.
I’d gotten a similar impression of Ash today, but I’d heard the rumor of his heartbreak, so that explained why he wasn’t joking around much. Still, he left a smile on the face of every person he talked to.
I smiled to myself and scrolled through the breakfast menu as Colt strummed his way through a story about when he was in school to become a fighter pilot. They’d snuck off base one night…
“You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?”
Crap. I tilted my head to Ash, finding him smirking faintly at me.
He scooted over on the sofa till he was on the end closest to me. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet. I’m Ash.”
Had he caught me staring or something?
I shook his hand and plastered a smile on my face. “Nora. Nice to meet you, Sir.”
“You too. So how Swedish does one have to be in order to be referred to as the Swedish girl?”
I chuckled. “Is anyone calling me that?”
He inclined his head. “I heard that before I heard your name.”
Ah. Well. “Blame Lane. The Dane.”
Or half-Danish. Whatever. It was how we’d met in our old community. I’d attended a play party, and I’d heard someone screaming out their pain in Danish. Not the most common language in the DC area.
“I see. You don’t have much of an accent, but it’s more than an ancestor thing, I reckon?”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir. I was born and raised there.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
“You do not know Sweden.”
He laughed. “That bad?”
I shrugged and grinned. “Eh. We have our ups and downs, like any country. I still love spending the winters there.” A few weeks, at least. Christmas was a must. And snowboarding up north. In the background, Penelope was walking over with Greer, both taking their time, still engrossed in whatever they were discussing.
“But you’ve been in the US for a long time?” Ash asked.
“I went to high school here,” I answered. “My dad was headhunted by Boeing, so we moved to Chicago first. Then Arlington after I graduated.” I cocked my head. “What about you? You born and raised in DC?”
“Nah, but not too far away. I grew up in Haverford, outside Philly. Ever heard of it?”
I shook my head, presuming he meant Haverford, not Philadelphia.
“Now, that’s an uncool place to grow up in,” he said. “It’s practically mandatory to be in a country club, and you gotta name your kid somethin’ ridiculous.”
I laughed and pulled up my legs so I could turn in my seat. “I wouldn’t call Ash ridiculous.”