Word Count: 30,012
Summary of Events:
Brandt went to visit the old farm dog, who died in his arms; he and his uncle went to bury him in his favourite spot to watch traffic, which upset his stepmom, who hadn't liked the dog. Lark talked to Haylee about Brandt before Brandt started texting her and told her about his dog, a conversation she had to end because church was starting. Brandt picked up Lark to take her to the beach where all his friends were hanging out; at the beach Lark was guarded by Brandon while Brandt went to change before he and Lark talked a little about how fit he was — which had surprised Lark — before their conversation was interrupted . . .
Excerpt of the Day:
""Well hello, hello," Lark startled and turned to see the man Brandt had fought with, his nose still looking worse for wear, standing too close to her for comfort; she felt Brandt's hand slide across her back to hook around her side and pull her so her hip was touching his leg.
"Hello," Brandt said flatly.
"I don't believe I've been properly introduced to this little pixie you have with you BR," the man said, looking at Brandt with arched eyebrows and an expectant gaze.
Brandt took a deep breath. "Nick, this is Lark, Lark, this, is, Nick."
"Ah, a pretty little skylark," Nick said, looking at Lark with a gaze that made her feel like she actually was a bird, being eyed by a haggard, battered alley cat looking for an easy snack.
He reached out for her.
"Ah, rule number one," Lark said.
"Oh," Nick pulled his hand back and looked at her with arched eyebrows. "There are rules?"
"Yes," Lark replied. "And rule number one is you do not touch me."
"Oh is it?" Nick asked, looking like he was wont to try her on it.
"And rule number two is that you call me by my name," Lark said.
"Of course, of course little meadowlark," Nick replied.
"Excuse me?" Lark asked.
"Little Lark," Nick replied, looking smug in his defiance.
"Now go away," Lark said.
"But why?" Nick asked. "Surely you'd like to get to know me."
"Get out of here," Brandt ordered.
Nick slid a vicious glare over at Brandt, who had his right fist brandished already.
"I will get my prize BR," Nick spat before wheeling around and stalking off.
"Son of a–" Brandt cut himself off.
"Motherless goat," Lark finished.
"What!?" Brandt exclaimed, loosening his hold on her.
"It's a Christian swear word I learned from a comedian," Lark replied.
"Motherless goat?" Brandt asked, looking at her like he wanted to bust a gut, yet wasn't sure it was a good idea.
"Son of a motherless goat," Lark replied, nodding. "I didn't think it would be accurate to use son of a baptist preacher, and I couldn't remember if there were any other son of a's."
"Wow," Brandt said, shaking his head, a smile splitting it wider than Lark had ever seen before.
"But what was he talking about with a prize?" Lark asked. "Does he mean me?"
Brandt's face fell and he looked at her. "Yes."
"Why?" Lark asked.
"Because I've gone and stolen his girlfriends before," Brandt replied. "I've never had a girlfriend for him to steal before — which was kind of deliberate."
"I don't like him," Lark said. "He's like a tom cat that nobody wants around."
"And wouldn't I love to shoot him," Brandt muttered.
"That's not nice," Lark said.
"I'm not going to," Brandt said.
"Still, you shouldn't even think it," Lark scolded.
Brandt looked down at her, then sighed and turned his head aside.
"You should be careful what you think about," Lark said. "Thoughts are powerful.""
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