All of Me Read Online Free PDF

here on this lake. It had been summer then, Fourth of July, actually.
     Fireworks going off all around the lake, a picnic basket of fried chicken sitting in the bottom of the boat between them.
     The taste of watermelon on their tongues as they’d kissed.
    He’d slipped a four-carat diamond sparkler on her hand, and she’d said, “Yes, yes, yes. You just have to promise me one thing.”
    “Anything,” he’d breathed.
    “You can never, ever cheat on me the way my dad cheated on my mother. I won’t stand for it. Promise you’ll never break my
     heart.”
    “I promise,” Tuck had sworn. It was an easy promise. He loved her so much, he’d never jeopardize what they had over another
     woman. His mistake, he realized now, was that he hadn’t made her swear not to break his heart.
    Tuck’s breath frosted in the chilly air. “I miss you, babe. I miss you so damn much. I’m not worth shit without you.”
    If Aimee were here, she would have chided him for cursing. She was so sweet, so innocent. Too innocent for this sorry world.
    Grief knotted his throat.
    It was bad today.
    Some days it was better. Some days he was almost his old self again, flirting innocently with the waitresses at the Bluebird
     Café, whistling while he sanded down cabinets or planed doors, smiling at people on the streets. Forgetting for hours at a
     stretch. Some days the sorrow didn’t hit him until he was underneath the covers with the lights turned off, and the empty
     spot in the bed beside him stretched out as wide as the lake.
    Then the grief would sledgehammer him. His beloved Aimee was gone, and he was alone.
    Some days, like today, were so bad that the only thing that could dull the pain was good old Johnny W. He put the whiskey
     bottle to his lips. Took another sip and wondered if it was against the law to drink and row.
    When the hell did it ever stop hurting? When would he wake up and not listen for the sound of her moving about the kitchen,
     cooking him egg-white omelets, which he despised but had eaten anyway to make her happy? She’d told him he had to watch his
     cholesterol, because she wanted him with her until they were stooped and gray. Tuck had eaten the loathsome egg-white omelets,
     but she’d been the one to break the pact. Aimee would never grow stooped and gray. She was forever twenty-five.
    He threw back his head and howled at the starry sky. “Fuuuuck!”
    The sound of his mournful curse carried on the crisp night air, echoing up and down the lake. The outburst made him feel a
     little better so he did it again.
    “Fuuuuck!”
    Wind rushed into his lungs, freezing the pipes the whiskey had previously warmed. He got to his feet, threw his arms wide,
     and embraced the icicle breeze. Bring it on, Mother Nature.
    “Fuuuuck!”
    The boat wobbled. Tuck stumbled. Johnny Walker played fast and loose with his balance. He tried to sit back down, but gravity
     already had him in a choke hold.
    Next thing he knew, Tucker Manning, the former Magic Man of Manhattan, was tumbling headlong into Salvation Lake.
    E VIE M ANNING R ED D EER was locking up the Bluebird Café when her husband, Ridley, came up the sidewalk and slipped his arms around her waist. He
     pressed his face into her hair and pulled her up flush against his body so she could feel his arousal pressing into her backside.
    “Mmm,” he murmured. “You smell like fry bread.”
    She turned in his arms. His shoulders were as broad as beams, his ebony hair longer than hers, and she slipped her arms around
     his neck, tilting her lips up for a kiss.
    Ridley crushed his mouth against hers. Evie breathed him in. God, how she loved this man.
    When she’d come to Salvation to be with her younger brother in his time of grief over losing his young wife, she could never
     have imagined that she would fall in love with a native, marry him, and end up running the Bluebird Café. She was a pastry
     chef who’d trained at Lenotre in Paris. She’d trotted the globe. Seen