Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
CHAPTER NINE
August
“Did you grab those folding camp chairs out of the garage?” August asked Reese.
Clint would be there any minute. August had been worried when he told Reese that Clint was picking them up, that Reese would think it meant something it didn’t, but Reese had just said okay and that was that.
“Yeah, Dad. They’re on the porch. I figured we could grab them when we go out instead of bringing them into the house.”
Good point. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was nervous about this whole thing. What he couldn’t put his finger on was why. Sure, part of it probably stemmed from Reese and wanting this to go well for his son, but there was more to it than that. They were going with Clint, and meeting Clint’s friends, and…shit, August suddenly felt like he was the child in this scenario because he was worried about Clint’s friends liking him. He wanted to make a good impression. August told himself it was simply because he wanted so bad for living in Harmony to work out, but if he were honest with himself, he’d acknowledge the part of him he tried to ignore that knew there was more to it.
“He’s here,” Reese said, pulling August from his thoughts. When Butter made her way to the door, Reese added, “No, girl. You have to stay here this time. I wish she had a friend like Midnight and Sweetie do. We should have two dogs.”
August opened the door. “Oh, should we?”
“I mean, it makes sense.”
“Yeah, well, not right now. Maybe when we find a house to buy here.”
Reese winced. Okay, so mentioning permanence here wasn’t a good thing yet. Noted.
“This is going to be fun.” He squeezed Reese’s shoulder and led him outside. Reese grabbed one of the chairs, which were in carrying bags, and threw it over his shoulder. August locked up and grabbed the other.
Clint was waiting in his truck. They tossed their stuff in the back and climbed in.
“Hey, man,” Reese greeted him. “Thanks for picking us up.”
“No problem. I’m glad you guys are here to keep me company.” He started to turn around in the driveway.
“You’ve never been married or anything?”
“Reese,” August warned, but Clint waved him off.
“It’s fine. Nope, I haven’t found anyone who’s willing to put up with me,” he teased.
“I highly doubt that’s the reason. More like you haven’t found anyone who deserves you,” August replied, and the truck went silent. He shifted in discomfort, his face feeling slightly hot. “Or maybe you’re right and you’re just too hard to get along with.”
Clint laughed. “Your dad’s not very nice to me,” he said, August noticing him glance at Reese in the rearview mirror. August did the same.
“Don’t worry, we can pick on him again like we did last time.”
“Hey! I’m not liking this. Who said the two of you could gang up on me?” But really, August did like it. He liked it a lot.
They chatted as they drove. They were early, but there was already a line of cars making their way down the gravel driveway. “Oh, Reese, I meant to tell you, they also do Painting with Goats. It’s just a class for fun, and I’m sure your skills are more advanced, but it might be something you want to do sometime.”
“I doubt I’m more advanced than the others, but it sounds cool.”
“You’re very good,” August told him. “I can’t hold a flame to you at forty-two.”
“I’m your son. You have to think that,” Reese added.
“That’s not true.”
“Whatever you say,” Reese countered. “My dad is my biggest cheerleader. I could tell him my goal is to be a serial killer, and he’d tell me I’ll be the best one there ever was.”
“That’s going a little overboard.” Though August had to admit, it meant a lot to him that Reese acknowledged how much he supported him. It wasn’t often those things were said out loud. August didn’t need it, but at the same time, it felt good to hear.
“Everyone’s gotta have a dream… I’m hoping that’s not yours, though,” Clint added, the three of them chuckling.
“Definitely not. I do want to be an artist. I’d like to be a wildlife artist. I think that would be cool.”
“Whoa, really? You’ve never mentioned that to me before.” August turned back to look at him.
“It was Pop’s idea. I thought I told you.”
August tried not to be hurt. It wasn’t as if his son had to tell him everything. Lewis was allowed to have good ideas, and they were allowed to share things between the two of them. “Nope, but I think you’d be great at it. Good call, Pop,” he forced himself to say, and Clint sent him a supportive glance before parking.
They grabbed their things and headed toward the farm. There was a large house where August knew they lived, and multiple barns. He followed Clint, who led them to a stand to pay and then across the property to where people were congregating.