Page 47 of Choosing Forever
“Live a boring, boring life.”
I don’t bother telling him that I’m already there.
“How long am I stuck here being dunked into what I assume is freezing water?”
“Oh, not that long.”
I lift a brow. “Right. Now, be honest this time.”
“Three hours, give or take one. We’re hoping for a turnout big enough to bite off a chunk of the funds needed for the drive-in. Put on a good show, and I’ll buy you a celebratory drink at Peakside tonight.”
Shit, it’s going to be a long day. The only thing—orperson—that could make this worth it is a visit from Delaney. I’ll take being dunked by her instead of another day of going without a glimpse of her. It’s been a week since we spoke at the drive-in grounds, and without taking Abbie to school as an excuse to show up and talk to her, I’ve had to let go of any hope I had of a reunion.
Instead, thoughts of her have kept me up to the point that I’d rather be staring at a computer instead of lying in bed. At least ifI’m going to stay up all night in front of my computer, I’ll get some work done.
“My shoulders already hurt from the weight of your expectations,” I joke.
“Yeah, I bet, asshole,” he returns before we reach the barriers.
A few people turn to look at us as we step through the gap between the cement blocks and join them. Of course, I’m the only person here in shorts. Even the woman manning the burger grill across the street is wearing jeans.
“Don’t forget to smile, D. It’s dazzling when you decide to use it,” he adds.
The dunk tanks are red and blue and have been placed smack in the middle of the section of downtown they’ve blocked off for today. Surrounded by a rounded, short silver fence and a small table and two chairs at the entrance gate, it’s clear the dunking is the main event.
I wasn’t expecting to see two dunk tanks, and I bite my cheek to stifle a laugh at who’s sitting on the seat above the second tank of water. It was an evil move on Caleb’s part for Brody Steele to be dunked repeatedly in front of his wife’s hair salon, but a move fitting for his best friend to pull.
The country music star glowers at Caleb when he stops beside his tank and moves a hand to hover over the huge red button I assume leads to our wet demise.
“Push it and I’ll be draggin’ you in with me,” Brody threatens beneath the disguise of a friendly smile.
Caleb smirks. “Do you have that much trust in your reflexes, pop star?”
“Give it a try. I’m interested to find out,” I say, leaning back on my left foot.
Brody points at my seat and clucks his tongue. “Up you go, Darren. I’m not in this alone.”
With a jostle of my shoulder, I tug my shirt off. The cool temperature bites at my bare chest as I carry myself over to the stairs at the back of the tank. It’s not only Brody and Calebwatching me, but they’re the only ones I pay attention to. I slip my shoes off and climb onto the red seat, wiggling when the flat wood presses against my ass.
“Can I hop off quick and be the first to dunk him?” Brody asks Caleb.
Caleb debates that too long before replying, “Are you paying?”
“Fuck no he isn’t. He’s not dunking me right now,” I say, raising my voice just enough I know they can’t miss it amongst the growing chatter around us.
Brody huffs and shoves back his hair with his fingers. Without a cowboy hat on, he looks . . . not like himself. I’m sure he’s missing it more than a shirt and jeans right now.
“Buzzkill.”
“Pop star.”
“Okay, children, stop fighting, or you’ll be in time outs,” Caleb threatens teasingly.
I roll my eyes. “Can he go first, Dad? I’m sure everyone here wants to dunk Brody Steele.”
“I think I’ll let the crowd choose who goes first, actually. It’s time to let the dunking begin!” Caleb announces, spinning and walking away from us.
Suddenly, he’s slipping out of the gate and parking his ass on the chair at the table. A line quickly forms in front of him, and he cackles like a hyena while dropping a locked cash box in front of him. Eliza Steele, Brody’s grandmother, joins him a moment later and takes hold of the box, safeguarding it.
