Dont Crosse The Line – Britney M Mills

This is how I felt when I was in the backseat of Jessa’s car, so maybe that was an excellent lesson in tight spaces. The woman who crossed off our names stands at the front of the bus. “Welcome, everyone. We’re excited to work on three different projects today. I’ll let you know which group you’re in and which drop-off point you’ll be on. If one group finishes early, we’ll have the bus bring them to one of the other spots to help and so on until we’re done.”

Someone up front raises their hand and asks, “How long is the drive?” “Forty-five minutes to an hour, depending on traffic.” I take slow breaths, hoping to calm my mind so I’m not actively counting down each second. Can I sit like this for that long? She goes through the list, and I’m named on the third drop-off. I put in my earbuds and lean my head against the window. It doesn’t help a ton, but enough that I can survive the trip.

Forty-five minutes was to the first drop off, which helps at least make room on the bus. I scoot by my seatmate and take a bench up closer to the front, turning so I can stretch my legs out completely on the bench. Drop off two is another five minutes away, and the last stop is about ten more. The woman gets up and directs us as she has the previous groups. “Okay, helpers, today we’re going to be doing some spring cleaning for an older couple.”

I raise my eyebrows at the idea of spring cleaning. It makes me think of the crazy weekend my mom would set aside every few months to wipe down every visible surface. “The older man asked for this to be a birthday present for his wife, which is today.

We’ve got a list of tasks, and a dumpster will come in a few minutes to drop stuff into.” A dumpster? Does that mean they’re hoarders? She divvies out the assignments, and I’m tasked with using a chainsaw to trim the trees. At least I’ll be outside. I spend the first couple of hours trimming, hoping to get more instructions on the ones that are completely dead. People get attached to interesting things, and I can’t put a tree back together once it’s been cut down.

A car comes down the dusty road and turns into the long driveway.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Opal Ink Publishing. OceanofPDF.com To Deb, For the motivational memes and the kind of friendship that turns doubt into momentum. I couldn’t have crossed the finish line of this book without you. OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Fur-Ever Homes Forum Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Fur-Ever Homes Forum Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Fur-Ever Homes Forum Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Epilogue The Love Playbook Series Also by Britney M. Mills About the Author OceanofPDF.com S CHAPTER 1 BURTON ome days are better than others, and this one, well, it didn’t go my way.

Every move I tried to pull during my box lacrosse game seemed like I was moving through Jell-O, but that was mild compared to my serving shift at Vincenzo’s Italian restaurant. I bumped into Joe while he was holding an entire tray of drinks, which spilled all over a table of customers.

I still feel horrible about it. No one wants to come in for a nice meal and get a sticky shower. I blow out a breath as I take off my black shirt, setting it on the bathroom countertop. The five o’clock shadow is more like a nine o’clock beard, so I pick up my razor and start shaving.

I’m hoping this and a shower will leech all the memories from my mind. I hate not playing my best or serving my best, because then I question everything. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old who plays professional lacrosse, but I have to supplement what I make from that with the tips I get from being a server. I share a house with three of my field lacrosse teammates and drive an old, rusty truck that’s been with me since I got my license.

Putting that all on paper makes me wonder. Should I quit playing lacrosse and get an actual job? I shudder even to think that. There’s a number two at the beginning of my age, which means I can still play. Sure, some of the young guns are faster, but I’ve got experience on my side.

I hope that’s enough for the upcoming outdoor season.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Unique ID: 8e220b7f024f36e4
• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 205
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 291.06 minutes
• Total Words: 58,211
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