Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Fuck yeah, you do,” Parker agrees, taking a hearty gulp and swallowing before he adds, “You give me hope, dude. You really do. If you can make it to thirty-seven or thirty-eight, why can’t I?”
“Because your knee is wrecked?” his fiancée Makena reminds him before poking his slightly rounder-than-usual gut. “And because you’re getting a dad bod and can’t stop talking about how much you want to stop being a professional athlete and take over the bakery side of my business?” She rolls her eyes affectionately. “Because you could run it ‘so much better’ and with more fiber?”
Parker wraps an arm around her waist, flashing a shameless grin as he cuddles her close. “I mean, I do have a gift for adding fiber without losing deliciousness. And you love my dad bod. You have to. It’s your fault I have one. You gave it to me with all your good cookin’.”
Makena laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I do love it.” She kisses his cheek, clearly as smitten with him—and his dad bod—as she’s ever been. “But I worry about your knee. Two more years, maybe three, and then you retire and help me finish becoming the female Gordon Ramsey, okay?”
He nods, looking pleased with this idea. “Totally. Except we’ll have pet raccoons instead of all those kids. I’m already working on an enclosure for them in the backyard by the garden.”
“Pet raccoons are illegal in Louisiana,” Grammercy pipes up as some of the younger players wander off to find more exciting entertainment now that the toasting is over. “I’ve told you a hundred times. You can’t have raccoons as pets here, brother.”
Parker scowls at him over the top of his beer. “And I keep telling you that I’m lobbying to have that law changed. I have a contact in the state legislature, dude, and we are tight. Mark my words, by the time I retire, raccoons will be legal pets in Louisiana, and I will be well on my way to being declared a state treasure.”
“Maybe even a national treasure,” Makena agrees. “I say we take this all the way to the Supreme Court. Raccoons want to be our friends. Our best friends. They’re way smarter, cuter and cleaner than dogs, and the legal barriers to our inter-species love must be abolished at once!”
Elly laughs. “You didn’t use to think so. Remember when that raccoon broke into your food truck and had babies on your prep table? You were so mad.”
“I was uneducated. And grossed out by childbirth,” Makena says, lifting her nose in the air. “There’s a difference.”
The mention of childbirth reminds me…
I stand, moving closer to the railing to check on the girls, who are happily playing with Mimi and two other kids I don’t recognize. They all seem to be having a good time, however. Which is good, considering the waiter said it would be at least a half hour wait for the pizza.
As Elly and the others continue their debate on the future of domesticated raccoons in Louisiana, Nix joins me at the railing. “So, speaking of the future, have you thought about…getting back out there at all?”
I arch a brow. “Getting back out there as in…”
He shrugs. “As in dating. It’s been almost a year since the divorce, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, uncomfortable for some reason. Are my “more than friends” feelings for Clover that obvious? Or am I being paranoid? Just in case, I play it safe and keep my response vague. “I guess, but I’m not sure when I’d have time. Or where I’d meet someone. I don’t think dating apps are for me.”
Nix pulls a face. “Yeah, fuck no. Dating apps are the worst. Literal torture, but… Well, you might not have to bother.” He glances over his shoulder, nodding toward the far end of the mezzanine. “See the gaggle of ladies over there by the pool tables? The two blondes and the redhead? I heard them talking while I was ordering the beer. The redhead wants your body, man.” His brows creep up as he shakes his head. “Like a lot. The things she was saying were…not vague, if you know what I mean.” He claps me on the shoulder with a laugh. “So, do with that information what you will. Just thought you might want to know.”
I glance toward the pool tables to find the redhead in question—a very curvy, very young woman in a microscopic dress watching me with a sultry smile—and quickly shift my focus back to Nix. “She’s like…twelve,” I mutter, lifting my glass.
Nix grunts. “She is not. She ordered a margarita, so she’s at least twenty-one. I’m betting closer to twenty-two or twenty-three. One of the girls she’s with went to high school with Reed. They’re both twenty-two, and twenty-two is a fully legal, adult human being.”