Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“I’ve been awake for hours,” he grumbled, making me turn to look at the clock in the room.
It was barely seven.
“I slept a lot last night,” he added.
“Yeah, you did,” I said with a smirk. “You fell asleep with your face in a cupcake at one point. Had fucking pink icing all over your face.”
“I have an injury,” he insisted, chin jerking up. “But they put breakfast out. I figured you guys would want to come down. Checkout isn’t that far away.”
Checkout was at ten.
And I’d been hoping to fuck Shale into oblivion at least one more time before we had to head out for the day.
But with Barry’s stubborn ass awake and antsy, there was no way that was going to happen.
As if sensing this for herself as well, the bedroom door creaked open, and Shale walked out in my shirt.
“Morning, Barry,” she said, shooting him a small smile. “How’s your arm?” she asked, coming over to duck under my arm to look at him.
Barry looked conflicted.
On the one hand, he wanted to bitch about his graze.
On the other, he didn’t want the “damsel in distress” to think he was a big baby.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to get you guys to come down to breakfast,” he said.
Shale angled her head up at me, and we shared a look that said we both knew there was no use fighting it.
“Fine,” I grumbled as I dropped my arm down on Shale’s shoulders and moved both of us out of the way, so Barry could come in.
“Why are we in New York State?” Barry asked as Shale moved back into the bedroom to get herself together.
“Shale wants to tell you,” I said as I came up to his side. "Show me your arm,” I demanded. His gaze slid to the bedroom door. “She’s not looking,” I told him, and he reached down to pull his shirt up to expose his arm.
I reached for the corner of his gauze, grabbing the tape, and drawing it back just enough to look in.
“It looks fine. We will dress it again later,” I told him, pushing the tape back down.
I took my turn to get ready and then the three of us went down to breakfast, snagging a table, and sitting down with our food.
Barry got some of everything.
Shale opted for a bagel with cream cheese.
And I’d just gone with a coffee since everything on the spread was going to taste like disappointment. I’d rather wait for something better at lunch.
“So, is she going to tell me now?” Barry asked, looking at me as he lifted some pale pancakes dripping in syrup up toward his mouth.
Shale and I shared a look before she shot him a smile.
“We are going to go cut down a Christmas tree!”
I had to admit, the wide-eyed kid-on-Christmas-morning look that Barry had then was worth the nearly five-hour drive.
“Really?” Barry asked.
“Really. It was Junior’s idea,” she added. “For a way for me to make it up to you for getting shot. I even ordered lights and ornaments that should be at Junior’s place by the time we get back, so we can decorate.”
“This is so great,” Barry said, practically bouncing in his seat.
“We have to hit the store first,” Shale told him. “Junior and I need some warmer gear.”
“I think we should go for a Douglas Fir. Or a Balsam Fir,” Barry decided.
“We’ll go for whatever they have on the farm,” I said. I hadn’t thought to look into tree species.
From there, Barry prattled on endlessly, making me wonder how he managed to eat most of his food when he never quit talking.
Then, soon enough, we were checking out of our rooms, and making our way to the store to gather layers: heavy jackets, gloves, hats, and boots. We also stocked up on snacks for the trip back.
Then we were off, finding ourselves on a sprawling tree farm with a welcoming parking lot draped in twinkle lights.
There was an area for pre-cut trees, and I looked a bit enviously at the people who were smart and efficient enough to be queuing up there instead of the cut-your-own line that we were waiting in.
Especially after we had to sign forms and listen to a safety lecture.
I trusted Shale, but as I took the hatchet from Barry, I could picture all the ways that this could go horribly wrong.
I took off ahead, my bigger footsteps creating dents in the snow for Shale to step into.
Barry took up the rear, and Christmas carols filled the air as he put music on his phone. Then he started to sing loudly along.
It wasn’t long before Shale joined in, signing with more and more gusto the further we trudged through the lines of trees.
“What about this one?” I asked when we came to a mostly perfect tree.