Page 101 of Resisting the Grump

F O R T YT H R E E

- Avery -

It had been an idyllic weekend. The lake shimmered with sunshine all day, and the sparkling light peeked often through the bushy branches of the tall, skinny pine trees. Oliver grilled all our meals while I sat by the water. Herons fished in the morning. Ducklings waddled and waded by in the afternoon. And in the evenings, a chorus of crickets sang so incessantly it felt as if they were worshipping the moonlight.

It was so refreshing to get out of the city, and I was grateful we squeezed the trip in, even though our time here felt like it went way too fast. Oliver assured me we could return soon, but I feared it might be a while. This was one of the last free weekends I was going to have for the foreseeable with Grace’s wedding activities ramping up. Fortunately, Oliver’s extensive connections had already saved me a ton of time and stress.

“Did Grace decide which of the catering companies she’s going with?” Oliver asked, dropping a bundle of freshly chopped logs next to the firepit.

“I thought you were sick of talking about wedding stuff?”

“I am,” he said. “Deathly. But I’m still curious.”

“I don’t think she’s picked yet,” I said, watching him stoke the fire before adding two logs.

“Regardless of who she goes ahead with, tell her to skip the salmon,” he said. “It’ll save her a fortune.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “It’s wasted on people, trust me. The kind of people who order salmon at weddings will happily order chicken.”

“What about vegetarians?”

“They’ll be pleased with pasta.” He sat on the cushioned garden chair across from me and reached in the cooler, cracking the lid off a beer.

“What about people who don’t eat gluten?”

“Which kind of people who don’t eat gluten?” he asked. “The kind who secretly love an excuse to enjoy gluten or the kind who are genuinely allergic and always armed with their own gluten-free snacks anyway?”

“Fair point. Plus, now that I’m thinking about it, I’d be surprised if Grace has any friends who are super strict about gluten considering how much she smells of baked goods all the time.”

He wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “So much for showering earlier.”

“I like you sweaty.”

His eyes flicked up at me, full of a hunger that could only mean one thing since we’d already had dinner.

I pretended not to notice just for the fun of it. “I heard a rumor you and Noah are going to ride bikes together soon.”

“It’s called cycling,” he said, amusement lifting his expression. “If you’re over nine.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It’s not. It’s going to be brutal,” he said. “I can already tell by the questions he’s asked that the guy doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“What kind of questions has he asked?”

He shrugged. “They’ve mostly been about what kind of gear he needs.”

“By ‘gear’ do you mean bike shorts?”

“Among other things.”

If Noah looked half as hot in bike shorts as Oliver did, Grace was going to owe me big for this. “I have to admit, I’m surprised how much the idea of you guys beating your chests together before pedaling towards the horizon in tight shorts really delights me.”

“Whatever turns you on, babe.” He took a swig of his beer before offering it to me. “You want to try this one?”

“What is it?” I asked, turning the green and yellow label towards me.

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