Read Online Perfect Summer by Katie Graykowski - Free Book Online
Authors: Katie Graykowski
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controlled—Lilly.
Oh, yeah, he’d been stupid and gotten horse kicked. He tried to sit up, but pain pounded his head, and nausea punched him in the gut. With considerable care, he rolled over. Lilly stood between Charlie Brown and him, one pissed-off shield keeping the horse from coming near Davis.
“Stay back.” She waved her huge handbag at the horse. “Want another whack on the nose? Come any closer and I’m using the pepper spray.”
Charlie blinked twice, twitched his ears, swatted his tail, and turned around, hobbling to the far side of the paddock.
“That’s what I thought.” Lilly shoved the purse up her arm, settled it on her shoulder, and turned on her spiky heels.
“You can’t pepper-spray a horse. It’ll only make him mad.” Davis took small, shallow breaths. He needed to get Lilly out of here—himself too. Charlie Brown wasn’t going to play nice forever.
“Don’t move.” She stomped, heels sinking into the grass. “You’re not supposed to move. The paramedics are coming.”
Instead of rushing to his side or fussing over him, she walked calmly up to him, tucked the back of her short skirt behind her knees, and squatted, knees together, next to him. “Your head seems to be bleeding.”
She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed. “What happened?”
She looked from him to Charlie and back to Davis. Smart girl, keeping an eye on the horse.
With his forearms, he pushed himself up, ignoring the pain.
“Stay down.” Lightly, Lilly touched his shoulder. “You need to stay down. I think your ribs are broken, and any movement could puncture a lung.”
She chewed on her lower lip, the first hint that she was worried…worried for him. Davis grinned. She cared even if she didn’t want to show it.
“We need to get out of the paddock. That horse is nervous by nature, which makes him unpredictable.”
“Please, I’m a veteran of the Neiman Marcus New Year’s Day Sale. That horse is nothing compared to rabid housewives scrabbling over fifty-percent-off linens.” Lilly rolled her shoulders like a fighter gearing up to step in the ring. “Brownie over there is nothing but attitude.”
She touched her purse. “And he knows who’s in charge.”
Every inch of Davis’s body hurt, but he couldn’t have stopped the laughter if he’d tried. Lilly was scrappy… his Lilly was scrappy.
***
Sunday was a day of rest for everyone except Clint. He'd rolled out of bed at six, pulled on his swimsuit, and started the day like every other with a two-mile swim in the lap lane of his pool. When he'd finished the last twenty-five meters, his muscles had screamed, but he'd ignored the pain as he dragged himself into the kitchen for a bowl of All Bran, a protein shake, and a double shot espresso.
He leaned against the white marble kitchen countertop. Just once, he'd like to have pancakes and sausage—not the frozen stuff but homemade pancakes and link sausage. Driving to a restaurant was an option, but he still had ten miles to run, weights to lift, and a scrimmage at noon. Pancakes for dinner weren't the same.
After he'd downed the All Bran, he carried his espresso to the front door to check for the newspaper. Being the only person under the age of fifty who still preferred his news in the paper version had caused him lots of ribbing from his best friend and teammate, Devon, but newspaper delivery also had given Devon countless hours of practical joke potential.
There had been the stink bomb that had been rigged to go off as soon as Clint opened the front door and the motion-censored water guns and the box full of live frogs that sat right on top of the newspaper. Not that Clint hadn't given as good as he'd gotten. Signing Devon up for the online prison dating site, Love Without Bars—Where Love Shackles our Hearts not our Hands—had been particularly inspired.
So with the greatest care, Clint slowly unlocked and opened his front door. The newspaper was nowhere in sight, but a
Oh, yeah, he’d been stupid and gotten horse kicked. He tried to sit up, but pain pounded his head, and nausea punched him in the gut. With considerable care, he rolled over. Lilly stood between Charlie Brown and him, one pissed-off shield keeping the horse from coming near Davis.
“Stay back.” She waved her huge handbag at the horse. “Want another whack on the nose? Come any closer and I’m using the pepper spray.”
Charlie blinked twice, twitched his ears, swatted his tail, and turned around, hobbling to the far side of the paddock.
“That’s what I thought.” Lilly shoved the purse up her arm, settled it on her shoulder, and turned on her spiky heels.
“You can’t pepper-spray a horse. It’ll only make him mad.” Davis took small, shallow breaths. He needed to get Lilly out of here—himself too. Charlie Brown wasn’t going to play nice forever.
“Don’t move.” She stomped, heels sinking into the grass. “You’re not supposed to move. The paramedics are coming.”
Instead of rushing to his side or fussing over him, she walked calmly up to him, tucked the back of her short skirt behind her knees, and squatted, knees together, next to him. “Your head seems to be bleeding.”
She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed. “What happened?”
She looked from him to Charlie and back to Davis. Smart girl, keeping an eye on the horse.
With his forearms, he pushed himself up, ignoring the pain.
“Stay down.” Lightly, Lilly touched his shoulder. “You need to stay down. I think your ribs are broken, and any movement could puncture a lung.”
She chewed on her lower lip, the first hint that she was worried…worried for him. Davis grinned. She cared even if she didn’t want to show it.
“We need to get out of the paddock. That horse is nervous by nature, which makes him unpredictable.”
“Please, I’m a veteran of the Neiman Marcus New Year’s Day Sale. That horse is nothing compared to rabid housewives scrabbling over fifty-percent-off linens.” Lilly rolled her shoulders like a fighter gearing up to step in the ring. “Brownie over there is nothing but attitude.”
She touched her purse. “And he knows who’s in charge.”
Every inch of Davis’s body hurt, but he couldn’t have stopped the laughter if he’d tried. Lilly was scrappy… his Lilly was scrappy.
***
Sunday was a day of rest for everyone except Clint. He'd rolled out of bed at six, pulled on his swimsuit, and started the day like every other with a two-mile swim in the lap lane of his pool. When he'd finished the last twenty-five meters, his muscles had screamed, but he'd ignored the pain as he dragged himself into the kitchen for a bowl of All Bran, a protein shake, and a double shot espresso.
He leaned against the white marble kitchen countertop. Just once, he'd like to have pancakes and sausage—not the frozen stuff but homemade pancakes and link sausage. Driving to a restaurant was an option, but he still had ten miles to run, weights to lift, and a scrimmage at noon. Pancakes for dinner weren't the same.
After he'd downed the All Bran, he carried his espresso to the front door to check for the newspaper. Being the only person under the age of fifty who still preferred his news in the paper version had caused him lots of ribbing from his best friend and teammate, Devon, but newspaper delivery also had given Devon countless hours of practical joke potential.
There had been the stink bomb that had been rigged to go off as soon as Clint opened the front door and the motion-censored water guns and the box full of live frogs that sat right on top of the newspaper. Not that Clint hadn't given as good as he'd gotten. Signing Devon up for the online prison dating site, Love Without Bars—Where Love Shackles our Hearts not our Hands—had been particularly inspired.
So with the greatest care, Clint slowly unlocked and opened his front door. The newspaper was nowhere in sight, but a
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