Page 79 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

She giggles but continues typing on her laptop. “You’re so cute. But I can’t kiss and type at the same time.”

“Sure you can.”

“Let me finish up this chapter real quick, and I’ll be all yours.”

We head to the beach two hours later. Rachel strips down to her bikini, and I spend most of my time looking at her. Amazing breasts. Great ass. But she never wants to fuck. The novel she’s writing comes first.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask her.

She’s always deep in thought these days.

“I’m thinking about how you grew up. It’s so interesting.”

I roll onto my side, hand resting on my temple. “My parents’ divorce is not interesting. Believe me.”

“Right,” says Rachel, squinting at the horizon. “But I mean the psychology behind it all.”

I flop onto my back. “Things were so much better before they started making a lot of money. We used to sit around the table all night playing board games, forgetting about the time. They never had to rush off for the weekend or fly somewhere for a last-minute business meeting.”

“It must’ve sucked for you.”

“It sucked so bad that I started playing board games alone.”

“Oh no! You didn’t. How do you even do that?”

“I don’t remember but that was my only option.”

“You’re so cute.”

I smile. Rachel’s the cute one here.

We met in Venice Beach at a coffee shop. She tripped over a step, and I caught the notebooks she was holding. The covers were plastered in stickers, half of the pages missing. It was messy and fun, like everything else about her.

She was wearing baggy jeans that didn’t even fit around her waist, and her hair was flung up into a ponytail. Three weeks later, she was mine.

I adore everything about her, from the way she smiles to the way she crinkles her nose when she’s behind her laptop stuck on a sentence.

“I wanna be a writer,” is what she told me when we first met. “A memorable one, like the next Suzanne Collins or something. Famous, you know. I want to work hard and be known for something.”

I couldn’t relate.

I never dream big.

I guess that’s because I saw how big dreams tore apart my family.

But Rachel isn’t like my parents. She’s grounded. She throws on the first clothes she finds every morning. Cares more about good coffee than luxury perfume and fancy clothes.

She looks good effortlessly.

“Oh, shoot. Look at the time.” Rachel taps on her watch and jumps up. She buttons her shorts in a hurry. Doesn’t bother with a shirt. “I have to get back.”

“Why? You’re not working at the bar until six, right?”

“Exactly. Which means I only have three hours to finish the rest of act three.”

I tug on my own shirt and grab our things. I’m happy to get any time I can with Rachel, even if that means watching her write in a room that doesn’t have any AC.

“I’ll come with you.”