Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
The way she made me feel like I was a whole man. Not a dad. Not a chef, or a chauffeur, or a middle-of-the-night nurse. Just a man, free to do what he wants. Be who he wants.
God, I miss that.
Wonder if she misses it too.
I also wonder what her story is. Where’s Junie’s daddy? Was he ever in the picture, or are he and Ava divorced? Separated? Doesn’t sound like he moved to Hartsville with them. I feel like Sally would’ve mentioned him, as she’s mentioned little June in passing.
Or—dear God—are they still married? Ava isn’t wearing a ring, just like she didn’t in Austin. But that doesn’t mean she’s not married.
Have a hard time believing she’d cheat, though. She was so herself when we were together. So uninhibited. Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like she really fucking enjoyed not having to hide anything.
I enjoyed it too. A lot.
“C’mon, Dad.” Ella gives my hand a tug. “Let’s get cake.”
Junie’s already making a mad dash for the door.
“She’s a pistol, huh?” I say.
Ava sighs, sliding her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “That’s one way of putting it.”
I feel that sigh in my bones. Before Ella was born, I remember complaining all the time about how tired I was after a day spent cowboying on Garrett Luck’s ranch. Now I wish I could go back and smack myself, because my level of tiredness then doesn’t hold a candle to the utter exhaustion I feel these days.
Ella and I follow Ava outside to the picnic tables. I feel several pairs of eyes on us as we head for the cake. Or maybe that’s just me imagining—hoping—people notice what a cute couple Ava and I would make.
Stupid.
Is it stupid, though, to think we might hit it off in real life the way we did that night in Austin? We live in the same town. Have daughters the same age. We both work on ranches.
I grab Ella’s hand just before she shoves it into Mrs. Wallace’s famous Texas sheet cake. “Whoa whoa whoa. Let me cut y’all some slices, okay? Let’s just get some plates—”
“Here you go.” Ava holds out a pair of paper plates. I notice she’s also got plastic forks and some napkins ready.
Can’t help it. I grin. “Tell me you’re a parent without telling me you’re a parent.”
She grins too. “So that’s why you were so distraught about not having your Tide pen on you. When I’m with her”—Ava nods at Junie, who’s helping Ella up onto the wooden picnic bench beside her—“I always throw one in my bag.”
“It makes laundry so much easier when you pretreat those stains, you know?”
“Wow,” she says.
I look up to see Ava staring at me. Maybe I gotta get out more with her. She feeling this energy between us too?
“What?” I ask.
She slowly shakes her head, a funny look on her face. “Just—that might be the sexiest thing to ever come out of a man’s mouth.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “What kinda men you been hangin’ out with?”
“The wrong kind, clearly.”
“We’ll set you right now that you’re in Hartsville.
Cutting two slices of cake, I grab the plates from Ava. Our fingers brush, sending a full-body shock wave of heat crashing through me. I look down, focusing on the plates which I set in front of our girls.
I gotta get out more.
“Hey, Elly Belly Boo, sit on your bottom, please,” I say.
My daughter is doing her happy dance while sitting up on her knees. She already has chocolate frosting smeared on her face from the single bite she’s taken. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Lemme go grab some wipes,” I say, meeting eyes with Ava. “I actually have some this time.”
She smiles, the kind that touches her eyes, and my heart hiccups.
“Of course you do. Thanks.”
I know I’m not imagining Ava’s eyes on me as I bend down to grab a pack of Huggies wipes from my diaper bag underneath a nearby table, because when I stand up I catch her looking at me. She’s got that funny expression on her face again, brow scrunched but eyes bright with curiosity. It’s almost like she doesn’t understand what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it.
It’s almost like she’s … pleasantly surprised?
I’ll take that any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. ’Cause I’m shocked as shit that we ran into each other again too, but I sure as hell ain’t mad about it.
Nice knowing Ava isn’t, either.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was a one-night stand, and she made a quick exit. Clearly didn’t want to stick around for seconds.
Why flirt with me now, though?
Why look at me like that now?
God, I wanna ask her on a date. If only so I can finally get her to share her story.
Her last name, at the very least.