Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“My beautiful daughter, you’re acting about eight,” I warned her good-naturedly.
“Ma mère chérie, please hear this and get it through your beautiful, well-coifed, but thick head, I am not ever going to act older than maybe…twelve. I will be a girl with a girl’s delights and a girl’s tantrums exercising a girl’s prerogative to change her mind and be whatever she wants to be until the day I die.”
Duncan chuckled low, which gave indication of his approval of my daughter’s declaration.
Yes, he liked her.
And he might be a bit insane.
Chloe turned to him.
“And for the record, Bowie, I actually don’t want you to talk to Judge because Mom’s right. He’s beneath my notice.”
I had not said that.
I did not get the chance to correct her.
“But I will notice a turkey and swiss sandwich with a hint of mayo and some Bugles.”
Duncan’s “Coming right up,” vibrated with humor.
He then got on making my girl’s sandwich.
When he was done and passing her the plate, she declared, “Now, Killer and I are retiring to my balcony. Mother, you may attend me in thirty minutes whereupon you’ll give me a detailed minute by minute breakdown of why I walked in on you and Bowie in what is apparently lovely domesticity with a romantic fire crackling in the background.”
“That won’t be happening, daughter mine, since Bowie and I are having lunch then we’re going into town so I can introduce him to Cookie.”
“Huh,” she huffed.
Then she, and her plate, with Killer, walked out of the room.
And just to say, both Rocco and Shasta weren’t far behind.
“Babe. Sandwich?” Duncan called my attention to him.
I gave him my order. He made it. He then got on making his own while I got on eating mine.
He did not skimp on meat or cheese.
It was fabulous.
We were both munching when his phone skidded across the island.
“Pic of Judge,” he grunted, and then took a huge bite.
I picked up the phone, and on it saw a man wearing a River Rain tee, standing next to and laughing with a child, his hand curled around the back of the kid’s neck.
Ash blond hair. High forehead. Brown eyes. Manly nose. Firm jaw. Great chin. Excellent stubble. Broad shoulders. Slim hips. Tall frame. Fantastic smile.
“Oh, dear Lord, it’s Ryan Reynolds,” I whispered in horror.
“She is absolutely not his type,” Duncan declared.
With even more horror, my gaze shot to his.
He kept talking.
“Which means, when he got a load of her, and fell, he went up to her and picked a fight to prove to himself she was not the woman who was going to keep him from sleeping until he puts a ring on it. Even though this effort failed because every other woman he meets trips all over herself to do his bidding and he’s not a fan of that. He didn’t hike Machu Pichu to come home and find a woman who would fawn all over him.”
“He hiked Machu Pichu?”
“Twice.”
Oh boy.
“Chloe’s had an exceptional education, but there is a good possibility she doesn’t know what Machu Pichu is,” I shared.
“She’s gonna find out.”
Oh boy.
“Is she going to chew him up and spit him out?”
“He’ll hold his own.”
I got to the harder part.
“Puts a ring on it?”
“He’ll deny it but he’s probably right now trying to figure out where he can run into her again, if only to have another fight.”
“Oh my,” I murmured. “She will, of course, have dropped your name.”
“Which means we’re going out to dinner since he’s coming over tonight and I’m enjoying my day too much. I don’t want to have ‘the talk’ with a man I respect about how he better treat Chloe right or I’ll break his neck.”
And again…
I was giggling.
“Eat up, Gen,” he ordered, jerking his chin to my plate. “I wanna meet your cat.”
He was going to love Cookie.
So I obliged.
Chapter 13
The Seed
Corey
* * *
Twenty-nine years earlier…
* * *
Corey was having a meltdown.
He had to get a handle on it.
But…
They’d fucked before they’d shown at his and Sam’s condo.
Like they always did.
Jesus Christ.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Could they keep their hands off each other for a minute?
Just one goddamn minute?
Why, every fucking time, did Genny have to come over all glassy-eyed, her hair mussed, lips bruised and full from Duncan kissing them, and Duncan looking like he’d scaled goddamn Everest.
And this happened not only when they came over to his and Sam’s place, but when he and Sam went to theirs.
Fuck, half the time, they were both still adjusting their clothes in some way when they opened their door.
And what was it with them both having to open the door as one? Like they were attached by some invisible thread and couldn’t be apart for a minute. Like her going to work and him going to work was too much for them to bear, so when they were at home together, they were in each other’s space constantly.