Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Sloan’s sons were mini copies of him, sharing his dark-blond, coppery hair, beautiful eyes, and mischievous yet kind smirks. His daughter brought cuteness to a whole other level with her big eyes and dark, wavy hair. Like, actual corkscrew curls you saw on porcelain dolls.
If I hadn’t known Jamie was eight years old, I would’ve guessed he was older based on his height. Jason was already taller than I was, which felt weird.
“I think grilled veggies are better because they don’t taste like veggies,” Emma-Jo announced and jumped up on the bed.
It was sound logic for a four-year-old, I wasn’t going to deny that.
“It’s strange,” I said. “I like the smell and the taste, but I want my veggies crispy. That’s why Archie was kind enough to prepare carrot sticks and lettuce for me.”
“Lettuce.” She scrunched her nose. “Yuck.”
“What’re you talking about, sweetie?” Sloan laughed softly. “You don’t mind lettuce.”
“I do now,” she replied in a duh-tone. “Mommy put gross basmic dressing on my salad.”
“That was so gross!” Jamie agreed.
“Balsamic.” Sloan smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “We don’t have to pour dressing on the salad.”
“And these don’t need it.” I grabbed my plate again and offered everyone a carrot stick. “See? Crunchy and delicious.” I bit into one.
Emma-Jo giggled and shook her head.
Jamie took the bait, though. With a shy little grin, he snatched a carrot stick before he sat down next to his daddy.
“You must be the Star Wars fan,” I said. Our initial greetings earlier had been over in five minutes, so I had my curiosities too.
“Jason and I both like Star Wars, but I love The Mandalorian more, and you have Grogu on your PJs,” he answered frankly.
“I do.” I beamed. “I love The Mandalorian too. Maybe we could have a marathon sometime.”
“Shit yeah.” He grinned.
Sloan snorted under his breath. “Yeah, so Jamie’s at that age where he tries to cram a curse word into every sentence, even where it barely makes sense.”
I chuckled. “Gotta test Daddy’s limits.”
“Exactly!” Jamie exclaimed. “Fuck limits!”
Whoa.
“Hey—yeah, okay, you just reached one.” Sloan turned on the strict daddy business. “That’s fifty cents from your allowance, James. And you can go tell Shep that you will happily help him collect eggs all weekend.”
Jamie was ready to argue, anger brimming in his eyes, when Greer walked in with Kyla upside down in his arms. She squealed with laughter.
“Why will Jamie collect eggs with me?”
“She’s upside down, Shep!” Emma-Jo gasped.
“He said your favorite word,” Sloan replied. “Boy’s testing me.”
“Am not,” Jamie grumbled. “I don’t like the chicken coop. There’s poop everywhere! We should call it the chicken poop.”
“Aye, it’s a fuckin’ menace sometimes.” Greer headed over to me and dropped Kyla onto my lap, and I grinned and booped our noses together.
She grabbed at my face and babbled happily, cheeks flushed and eyes wild with playtime.
“You had to go there,” Sloan stated. “Two seconds after I reprimand him for cursing, you drop the f-bomb.”
Jamie and I shared a grin.
I knew Sloan had named Jamie after Greer, whose middle name was James, and it was fitting. Jamie was clearly a hell-raiser in the making.
“I’m very fucking sorry,” Greer replied somberly. “I was just coming in here to say we’re gonna do s’mores now. And I think…” He side-eyed me. “Corey’s up to join us…?”
Heck, I totally was. I’d rested enough!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A few days before the auction, Archie and I met up with Noa, Cam, Tate, Shay, and Kit in the city. We’d managed to find two hours where nobody had work, and we picked my place because we didn’t have to worry about Doms here.
Two hours to put together care packages for those who went above and beyond with the rebuild of House Mclean.
Not Mclean House. House Mclean.
My contribution consisted of delicious breath mints, greeting cards with frogs on them where we all thanked the Tops for being so wonderful, and decks of playing cards that may or may not have a fun message on them.
“We’re almost out of cellophane bags,” Cam announced.
“I’ll get more. There’s another box in the kitchen,” Shay said.
“We need more sprinkles too!” Noa hollered. “I think I’m filling the containers too much.”
“That’s impossible,” Kit replied matter-of-factly. “Let the people have sprinkles. I brought lots.”
He’d also brought gift cards for his favorite ice cream place for the care packages.
Aside from the founding members, Master Kingsley, Nathan, KC, and Sloan would receive an extra thank-you from us brats. Actually, Ivy and Tate too, but we couldn’t say that out loud with Tate being here. Cam and Kit were in charge of their gifts.
Since Sloan wasn’t working yet, he spent every day in Mclean while the kids were at school in the city. The man knew how to get involved in a community, and he’d already grown pretty close to Lucas and Colt, which reminded me of something.