Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
We went to The Barn for dancing.
Hadley got another martini. I had another shot.
There was twerking. Running man. Sprinkler.
I grocery shopped. I changed a tire. I was a half of a unicorn dance. It was new. We’d just created it that night. I was the ass part, and Sophia’s abuela was the head part. Sophia tried being the hooves, but she just didn’t get it. When she swung her head back, I’d kick up my leg and throw some confetti in the air. Then we’d go back to prancing and pretending to kick people.
It was just what I needed. Tomorrow was going to kick my ass.
Even drunk, I could feel my sides hurting from all the laughing as we drove back.
Grant dropped Owen and Hadley off at their house. Sophia was snoring in the front, but they lived off the island, so it was just me. He drove to the village.
The path to my cabin wasn’t driveable so he parked at the mouth of the trail.
“I’ll walk you.” Grant opened his door as I got out.
“No, no!” I nearly yelled. Looking around, some of the lights were on in the nearby cabins. “Those guys are back already?”
Grant looked around. “Yeah. I mean, Minneapolis is only four hours away. Their game ended around ten, and it’s after three in the morning.”
Oh fuck. That was true.
“I have to be up at five.”
“We have the morning off, remember?” Grant nudged me because I’d started staring at one cabin in particular—the one Reese was staying in. The lights had been on, but they’d just turned off. Reese was in bed. Crawling into bed. Maybe shirtless. Probably shirtless. What guy wore a shirt to bed? He was definitely shirtless. And that tattoo. I remembered it. I’d been secretly salivating over it all week, and I say secretly because I was a reformed stalker.
Maybe not as reformed as I thought.
I hung my head. “I’m so messed up,” I whispered to myself.
I wasn’t talking the usual craziness. Though that was there, and I held it up like a shield, loving it and hugging it close because it kept so much real shit out. I meant Damian. I could feel him. He was sitting on my chest, pushing me down.
I felt tears on my face, which dammit, probably meant I was bawling.
“Charlie?” Grant edged closer.
Sophia’s snore rose to a crescendo, and I realized what I’d just said.
I jerked away. “Sorry. I’m good. I—” I wasn’t, but I wasn’t looking at Grant. I was too embarrassed. “Thanks for the ride, Grant. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We’re off till lunch.”
I waved. “Okay. Thanks. See you for lunch.”
Grant drove away, and there was a lone light left for the entire village. It cast just enough light for me to make it to my front steps.
That’s when the dark shadow spoke. “You reek.”
I screamed.
“Holy fuck! Shut up.” The dark shadow moved at an unnatural speed, slamming a hand over my mouth.
It pressed in close, but I was still trying to get some air for more screeching. My heart was in my head, trying to burst out of my skull.
“It’s me. Forster. Shut up.”
OH! Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Oh God, God, God, God.
Deep breath. I needed to calm, but holy fucking hell. I was having a hard time.
Shoving back from him, I hissed, “You scared the crap out of me.” And on second thought, I felt my butt. I couldn’t tell if my pants felt wet or not.
“No shit.”
I couldn’t see a thing, but I swear I could hear his eyes roll. I heard my screen door open, and he rattled the doorknob.
“You got a key?”
I moved forward, bumping into him so I could insert the key. No light meant you had to go with feel, and Keith had given me a crappy key. You had to insert it, then jerk it to the right just as you unlocked it, or the lock would get stuck. I was not going to explain that to Reese right now, when I was drunk, and he must’ve been…
I rounded back to him just as the door gave way. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you sleeping?” And who had turned that light off in his cabin?
He didn’t say anything, just grunted and stepped inside. “Where’s your light?”
Now that sane thought was fighting its way to the surface, I was having a moment. Reese Forster was in my cabin and asking where the light was. Did I want the light on? Of course I did. I might be deluded, but I wasn’t a wanton hussy, or I was trying to tell myself I wasn’t. Though with him, persuasion would go a long way.
“There’s a string in the middle of the room. You gotta pull it.”
I was not entering that fairway. With both of us standing in the middle of the room, swinging arms around, someone was bound to lose an eye.