Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Why does the band have so many more fans than the football team?” Cosmo lay on his back near his mother, who was taking notes on a tablet with a stylus. Scotty and I had passed the band kids on our way in, and from the looks of it, a solid third of the school participated in the well-regarded music program.
“Because they’re actually good?” Sitting with his back against a tree, John shrugged. “And my dad says the lack of concussion risk is also a big draw.”
Spoken like a typical first responder, but Cosmo made a rude noise that earned him a censuring look from his mom.
“Sorry, Cosmo.” Angel patted his shoulder. “Love you and your passion, but the injury risk keeps me up at night too. It’s a real factor for some families.”
“Fuck them,” Scotty muttered.
Angel’s head whipped in his direction, a patented mom scowl firmly in place. “You want to say that louder?”
“Nope.” At least Scotty had the grace to flush bright pink and look down at his grass-stained hands. “Sorry.”
“Thought so.” Her tone stayed clipped as she reviewed our current ticket sales for the event and donations for the silent auction. “Next week, we’ll work in groups canvassing businesses, encouraging them to sponsor a table or donate. We also need volunteers to call and email alumni.”
“I can do some more calls,” Tony volunteered. “And something I learned participating in several charitable fundraisers while in the military is that the uniform talks. Wear your jersey or school shirts when visiting businesses.”
“Great point.” Angel nodded. “Look clean and presentable.”
“Easier for some of us,” Cosmo cracked as he gestured at John. “Like my dude over here who gets his hair trimmed on the weekly and does the SEAL workout for fun.”
“It’s just a thing I found online.” John moved his foot back and forth in the bark dust. “Military-style workouts equal better reflexes along with more muscles.”
“My reflexes are just fine without pretending I’m at basic training.” Scotty gave a mock shudder.
“Tomorrow morning before work.” Tone good-natured, John waggled a finger in Scotty’s face. “You wanna bet me who can bust out the fastest mile and most pushups?”
“You’re on, mother—trucker.” Scotty offered Angel a sheepish grin for the near curse.
“I’m so glad to be done with pushups.” Tony chuckled, stretching his arms overhead. I had to look away so I didn’t admire his biceps too long. “Doubt I could make it through basic training these days. Toughed it out with my shoulder as it was.”
“I could do it, no sweat.” Scotty’s boast earned a round of boos. “I could. Army, navy, marines, whatever. I’m in better shape than most of those guys.”
“It’s about mindset as much as physical condition.” Tony tapped his temple. “And a willingness to listen and serve the good of the whole team and organization.”
“You saying I couldn’t hack it?”
“No, I’m saying dial back the bragging until and unless you actually serve.”
“I could. Bet the recruiters come calling as soon as I’m eighteen. One of my friends back in Portland signed up last week. His folks kinda gave him an ultimatum, but he got some sort of bonus and everything.”
“You’re not enlisting.” I glowered at Scotty. “Basic training isn’t an extended version of your action-adventure summer camp.”
“Yup.” Tony pointed at Scotty. “You ever do think about signing up, you come talk to me first. There’s some sh—stuff you need to know.”
“No one’s enlisting right now.” Angel steered the conversation back to the fundraiser. However, the teen portion of the committee didn’t last much longer before taking off to the nearby ice cream shop.
“At least Scotty has some money of his own now,” I said to Tony on our leisurely walk back to Prospect Place. It was too early in the evening and too damn hot for one of our clandestine make-out sessions, but I’d enjoy the little alone time we had. As we passed the football field, the band switched to music from a well-known movie score. “And the band does sound good. It’s a nice night despite the heat.”
“The next few days are gonna be even worse.” Tony slowed his walk further. Another place and time, we’d hold hands, an urge that made my chest ache as he continued, “Funny how when I was based out of the south, the heat was simply a fact of nature, something to ignore after a while. But back home in Oregon, a few ninety-degree days is cause for mass panic.”
“We’re not equipped to deal with heat. The rental, like most older homes here, doesn’t have A/C. I’m dying at night.” Thinking back to our last few late-night text sessions, I shot him a pointed look. “For more than the usual reasons.”
“Poor baby. You need a way to cool off.”
“Suggestions?” I doubted we had enough time for a shower-for-two before Scotty returned from ice cream with friends, but I’d at least consider whatever sexiness Tony was thinking.