Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“It could still happen,” I say, nudging her back. “Harris’s teammates are still in town—not sure if all of them are leaving. Stranger things have happened.”
My gaze goes back to Harris, who continues to flail.
Still, he seems to be hanging on.
“My God—his ribs must be so sore,” I muse with sympathy. “He is going to be such a mess tomorrow.”
“Poor bastard. He’s taking one for the team.”
I give her another look. “You know he’s here today because he respects you. It has nothing to do with me.” I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You did this—all of this is amazing because of you. Yeah, they’re nice to look at, and it’s fun. But they wouldn’t be here without you.”
“Stop. You’re making me blush.”
But I don’t stop. She obviously needs to hear it. “I’m not kidding. You’re running the show. You’re a badass, and someone is going to sweep you off your feet if you don’t beat them to it. It just won’t be with a log.”
Annabelle scrunches up her nose. “You think?”
“I know.” I squish her. “It’s going to be your antihero: tall, dark, handsome.”
“Ohh, a Viking would be perfect.”
Before I can say more, there’s a loud splash from the lake, followed by a chorus of shouts and laughter.
Both our eyes go wide, and my hand goes over my mouth. “Oh God, that looked horrible!”
Harris bobs in the water, sputtering, hair plastered to his forehead; he looks more like a drowned rat than a man who’s doing a massive favor for my best friend while injured.
“Bless his heart, he stayed on an entire forty seconds.”
“You think it’s been that long?”
“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.” Annabelle giggles, then glances at me with a smirk. “Look at you, ready to run over there with that towel like a doting wifey.”
I shove her, but I’m already moving toward him, towel in hand as Harris hefts himself out of the water to the roar of the crowd, dripping wet and grinning like he just won an Olympic medal.
So hot.
He ignores the outstretched towel I’m offering him. One arm hooks around my waist, the other under my thighs, and suddenly, I’m being carried under protest. My squeal echoes across the bleachers as he hoists me up against his chest, my legs flailing as I cling to his shoulders.
“Harris, put me down!” I shriek, laughter bubbling up as cold water from his soaked shirt seeps through mine, chilling my skin. “You’re getting me wet!”
“Don’t get mad,” he says, his grin wicked, eyes glinting with that familiar, dangerous mischief. “The crowd is gonna love this.”
Then he’s charging toward the water’s edge, gripping me tightly as I try to wiggle free, screaming the entire way. “Harris, no!”
He holds me close, muscles tensing beneath my hands as he takes a running leap off the dock.
And then we’re airborne.
My stomach flips. Lurches from the jump.
Water rushes to meet us, and we hit the surface with a splash so loud it drowns out the cheers and laughter echoing from the shore.
Glub . . . glub . . .
Glub.
Cold water engulfs me, rushing up my nose and filling my ears. Free from his arms, I resurface, sputtering, my once cute hair now plastered to my face. Harris bobs up beside me, water streaming down his face, grinning like a maniac.
I want to strangle him.
He kisses me as if we were the only two people around.
As if the entire town wasn’t watching from metal bleachers.
It’s messy and wet and tastes like lake water, and I want to be furious, but I can’t! I can’t seem to care! His hands slide up my back, pulling me against him as the water ripples around us, waves lapping against our bodies.
They love it.
I love it.
And honestly? I think I love him.
I must.
Nothing else can explain the way he makes me feel.
Chapter 25
Lucy
What I want to do is spend the evening at home, where it’s quiet. Where the lighting is dim. Where I can sit in my pajamas in front of the TV and have Harris massage my feet . . .
But that’s not what happens.
Because Harris is famous—and so are his friends—and once he became the belle of the festival? Well. The only logical place to spend the evening is up at the big, fancy lodge, being roasted and toasted by his friends, the locals—and the tourists.
The moment he ripped his shirt open like a freaking romance cover model, I knew the night would spiral into chaos.
So now here we are, crammed inside the Lakeside Resort, packed with way too many people, all of whom have only one goal: to ensure Harris or his teammates stay as long as possible.
The man of the hour groans, rubbing his temples as yet another round of applause—and another round of shots—breaks out. “I swear, these people are acting like I personally chopped down the entire forest with my bare hands.”