Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I wave back, feeling seen, not just literally but emotionally. I’m not one of the Season Sisters, the orphan of a tragedy, the one holding the family together. I’m Summer, and he accepts me as I am. Rules and all.
Prince Charming showed up. I deserve this. I deserve him.
Meandering my way over, he keeps his eyes on me the entire time. Sometimes they dip lower and linger, but he smiles when I get close. “Hey, you,” he says, coming out of the water to greet me with a kiss.
Nothing’s cooled between us after the Roman love talk at the docks. He got it. We’re friends who have feelings that could turn into more. An eight-year-old doesn’t need more information before Daniel and I figure it out.
He asks, “How’d it go?”
“I think I need all the options laid out and crystal clear. Can we go over the details?”
CHAPTER 19
DANIEL
“Instead of a set amount of ‘dates,’ what if we go with a period of time that’s required to be seen together?” Summer rolls her head against the back of the chair to face me.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I mumble, “I’m in the weirdest timeline.” I tip the beer bottle back and take a long swig.
“You’re telling me.” Turning away to watch Roman floating on a raft tied by a rope to the closest tree, she adds, “Do you know what a puck bunny is?”
Beer spews from my mouth. “What the fuck?” Why do I suddenly feel like I don’t know this woman?
Without looking back, Roman says, “You owe the swear jar five bucks.”
“At this rate, that jar is going to have your college paid off before you turn ten.”
“Then you can buy me a Lamborghini.” What the hell with this kid? I don’t recognize either of them right now.
Summer’s busy laughing. It’s good to hear it again.
“We’re a Ferrari family, Roman. We can dabble with Maseratis, but never a Lamborghini.”
He turns so fast on the float that it rocks beneath him. Car talk is what gets his attention? I’m learning all kinds of stuff about him on this trip. “That’s not fair!”
“It is when Ferrari is one of my sponsors. I got the car and a big paycheck last year. I’m loyal as fuck to that brand.”
He lies back down. “That’s another five bucks.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
“Fifteen,” he shouts, tucking his hands behind his head like he’s got it made in the shade, which he does.
I turn to Summer, thumbing over at my son. “Do you believe this kid?” I grin, not able to pretend I’m not enjoying every second of this with him.
“You only have yourself to blame. He takes after you.”
“That’s for sure.” I take another drink. “You didn’t know anything about hockey before, and now you’re asking about puck bunnies?”
“Yeah. I heard about them and . . .” Dragging the butterfly on her necklace back and forth, she returns her eyes to mine when she says, “Will I be accused of being your bunny?”
“No.” Simple answer that I hope ends this line of questioning. It pisses me off that it would even cross her mind. “Whatever idea you got for comparison, there is none. You’re nothing like them. End of story.”
“Is it the end or is this the beginning?” She reaches over to run her fingers over my forearm. “What makes me different from them? Please tell me so I can be prepared.”
“You don’t need to prepare. You arrive with me and smile if you want to. We don’t have to listen to the photographers’ demands. I rarely do. Showing up is enough.” Her gaze drifts out to sea as she appears to mull it over. “Just be you, Summer. That’s all you need to be.”
But then she turns to me and asks, “So $250,000 for a few dates in public? Is that all we’re saying? No other strings, no timelines, no payback. Just my time for the money?”
“Maybe we can rephrase it. You’re not a call girl.”
“Okay, you’re gifting me a quarter of a million dollars to expand my family’s property and to protect it from greedy venture capitalists. In return, I show you the way to play nice when in public. Is that better?”
“Definitely. I sound like a fucking hero who’s saving a small town from demolition.”
“Twenty,” Roman shouts.
“I’m going to go broke with him around.”
“It’s okay,” she says. I hate that her touch disappears. “I think we summarized it pretty well. We don’t need to overcomplicate it.” She sits back, and I already miss her touch. “I’m getting what I want. You’re getting what you want. It’s settled. It’s a win-win.” Although she doesn’t sound like there’s an issue from listening to her tone, she doesn’t sound happy either.
“Yeah, it’s a win-win,” I repeat, closing my eyes. Bothered that she sounds more resolved than relieved, I can’t keep them closed. I gave up on trying to read women’s minds years ago. I sit up and angle toward her. “Why does this not sound settled?”