“Sorry, I hope that’s okay. I just saw them at the store before I came here and thought it would be a fun idea for him.”
“That was really sweet of you, Greer. Thank you.”
“I’m going to go show Aunt Calla,” he says quickly, tilting his drink back the same as his dad.
“Umm,” Greer starts as she eyes the father and son duo. “Did I just start a bad habit?”
I chuckle at the same time as Simon.
“You did great,” he says. “But I might remind him that he can only have one until he eats.”
Simon brushes a hand against Greer’s lower back as he passes her.
It’s brief, but I catch it. A small grin tugs her lips.
Her eyes dart to mine, and I look away quickly.
Hell, look at all this inspiration around me. I should have endless words flowing from my fingers. Being stuck in a new book sucks.
“So, you and Calla, huh?” she asks, taking a seat. I do the same.
“Roommates. Yep,” I answer. I’m not sure if Calla has told anyone about Vegas. From the way she pretends it never happened, it’s safe to assume that’s a no.
“Well,” Greer says with a pause. “I think it’s great. Maybe by the end of it, you two will actually be friends.”
Or something.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Greer!” Willa calls out and waves her hand for her to join her.
“Enjoy your beer,” she says, leaving me alone.
I could get up and mingle, but I can see every person here from this spot. I won’t lie—as much as I want to relax, I can’t stop thinking about this nonexistent book I have. Always thinking about the next book is a weakness of mine. There are so many stories out there to write, but I don’t know what mine is. People-watching usually helps.
As I scan the yard, my gaze lands on Calla who, like before, is looking my way.
Oh, the things I would give to know what’s going on inside that head of hers. Once and only once did she let me in, and hell, that’s all it took for me to become interested as more than a friend.
I grin and wink.
She flips me the bird.
I let out a laugh and shake my head.
The next few weeks are going to be so much fun.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BECK - VEGAS
Holy shit, did I just propose to Calla Stone?
Fuck. I think I did.
I stare at the golden liquid in front of me, waiting for either her to say something or me to start freaking out and saying all the wrong things to take back the words that just tumbled off my lips.
Except, I’m not freaking out.
