Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)(46)

However, the decision to be tugged behind a boat in an inflatable tube was still up in the air. Looping my arms into the vest and securing it into place, I was as ready as I’d ever be.

“One foot at a time,” he instructed, taking my hand and helping me over the side of the boat where there was a large ledge. I could see the propeller below, currently stationary and quiet.

“Good. Now, the other foot. Okay. Carefully climb onto the raft like Noah did and grab the handles. Same directions—thumbs-up for more speed, thumbs-down for less. Oh, and do this if you want to stop.” He made the universal cut signal, slicing his hand quickly across his throat. “Got it?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Okay!” He slapped my ass, pushed the tube away from the propeller, and jumped back into the boat.

It was just me for a moment, floating across the serene water. It was peaceful—until the motor kicked on, and I started to fly.

“Holy shit!” I screamed, gripping my fingers tightly around the handles.

I couldn’t hear them, but even from this distance, I could see Jackson and Noah laughing, loving the sounds of my shrill screams. I forgot everything Jackson had just told me—the thumbs, the signal to stop. I just screamed and laughed. It was thrilling, and I allowed myself to get completely lost in the moment.

The straight path suddenly curved, and my breath hitched as the tube grew closer to the white wake caused by the boat. I was jostled and bumped as my poor inner tube tried to stay steady until it finally gave up and flipped.

“Oh crap!” I managed to say right before everything turned upside down.

I saw the world spin once, maybe twice, before the water consumed me.

I was right. The water was freezing. If I could have gasped under water, I would have. I swam back to the surface and looked around for the boat. Jackson was already circling around to come get me.

His lopsided grin greeted me as the boat came alongside me.

“Did you do that on purpose?” I asked.

“You looked hot,” he stated.

“You big jerk!”

I swam the remaining distance to the ladder and crawled back up to the boat’s ledge where he greeted me with a towel.

“Your bathing suit got a little out of place.” His eyes were full of fire as he covered me quickly before Noah had a chance to see me.

I looked underneath the towel and saw my left breast popping out of my vest and top.

Oops.

I reached down and stuffed my girl back into my bikini top, blushing. Then we climbed back over the ledge and sat down.

“So, feeling a little feisty today?” I asked, noticing the mop on my shoulders that had once been my hair.

“Just wanted to remind you of that feisty guy you met all those weeks ago.”

“Hmm…” I answered. “Just remember, payback is a bitch.”



“What the hell kind of s’mores are you going to make with this stuff?” Jackson asked, peeking into the grocery bag I’d asked him to carry outside.

“The best s’mores you’ve ever eaten,” I answered over my shoulder with a wink.

He looked doubtful, but by the end of the night, I would prove him wrong after watching him cram at least four of these in his mouth.

Not all s’mores were created equal.

We’d decided to end our perfect weekend by making dinner on the grill and finishing with dessert outside. Among its endless amenities, this house also came equipped with a fire pit, which was perfect for roasting marshmallows.

After Jackson set down the bag of groceries I’d gone out and purchased hours earlier, I began pulling out the various ingredients, including homemade graham crackers from a local bakery down the street along with a selection of chocolate I’d found at a candy store. The owner of the candy store and I had chatted for nearly fifteen minutes on the importance of fresh and basic ingredients, and it really showed in her products.

The only thing I’d had to settle on were the marshmallows. I couldn’t find those locally made anywhere, so I’d gone for the regular store brand for those.

We all began sticking our puffy white marshmallows on our metal sticks.

“Black or brown?” Jackson asked.

“Pardon?”

“Do you like your marshmallows roasted a lot or a little? I personally like mine black.”

“I do, too. Charred on the outside, gooey on the inside. Perfect. How about you, Noah?”

“I like them light brown.”

“He’s a bit of a snob. It can’t be too overdone, or he’ll give it to me. When he was little, I ended up with a lot of his rejects.”

“I’m sure that was hard for you.” I laughed.

“Terrible,” he agreed. “He’s got it down to a science now though.”

Jackson and I worked on turning our marshmallows into charcoal while Noah became a boy of precision. He placed it above the fire, not too close and not too far, and he would time how many seconds each side was exposed.

“Wow, that’s fascinating,” I commented as I watched him.

“He could be here all night.” Jackson grinned.

We each took out two graham crackers and a hunk of chocolate, and we assembled our s’mores, placing our thoroughly cooked marshmallows in between the two crackers. I waited for Jackson to take his first bite.