Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“I needed a good cry.”
He sighed. “Did you eat?”
I’d eaten everything in sight, but he didn’t need to know that. “There’s a steak on the counter for you. It’s from Spencer’s.” Hale didn’t marry me for my culinary skill so he wasn’t surprised to come home to takeout.
I hit play as he warmed up his dinner and set the table. The lengths he went to for propriety made me laugh. I gave him credit, though. Hale could hire a house full of servants to wait on him hand and foot, but he preferred his privacy and liked to take care of himself.
“Will you sit with me?”
I paused the movie, wrapped myself up in the blanket, and took the seat across from him, settling in like a disheveled burrito. He held his fork in his left hand, tines down, and gracefully cut into his filet. Peeking under the table, I smirked at the napkin appropriately draped over his lap.
“Good?” I asked as he took the first bite.
“Delicious. Do you want some?”
I ate earlier, but I was always a little extra ravenous this time of the month, so I leaned forward and opened my mouth like a good little carnivore.
“Mmm.” It was even good reheated. Maybe I had an iron deficiency. “How was your day?”
“Same old.” He sliced off another bite and fed it to me. “Yours?”
“I caught up on school stuff.” I dipped my finger into his mashed potatoes and sucked it clean.
“I can get you a fork.”
That reminded me… “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something.”
He glanced at me, swallowing his food before responding. “Sounds serious.”
“Not really.” I didn’t want to make too big of a deal out of it. “Elara had a bit of a meltdown today over a stamp on her hand.”
He frowned. “Who put a stamp on her hand?”
I should have known he’d see her side first. “The petting zoo.”
“What year are they living in? Haven’t they heard of bracelets?”
“Hale, you’re missing the point. She flipped out because there was a mark on her skin.”
“A mark made of ink that could trigger an allergic reaction. Not to mention the transfer of pathogens from repeated use.”
I rolled my eyes. “Forget I said anything.”
He caught my hand and stilled when he noticed the faded heart. “Is that what this is about?”
“My cootie mark, yes. I was trying to make a point, but I can see I failed.”
He traced his thumb over the faded heart. “You shouldn’t draw on yourself.”
“Why? Has ink poisoning and pen pathogens become a leading cause of death?” I teased.
“Because it’s not right to mark a work of art.”
I shoved him affectionately. “You’re sweet.” I blushed, then I licked my finger and smudged my saliva over the mark. “It comes right off.”
“Oh, God.” He looked away in disgust.
I laughed. “Suddenly, my saliva’s gross to you?”
He reeled in the germaphobia and hid his aversion to my natural disorderly conduct. “What’s the point here, Rayne? Are you afraid Elara’s like me?”
There was no doubt she was her father’s daughter. Sometimes, I forgot she wasn’t his biological child. While they still shared a genealogical link through Remington, chances were this was more environmental than anything else. “I just think it would do her good to get a little dirty now and then.”
“Why?”
“Because dirt’s healthy, Hale. There are all kinds of studies about the benefits of soil and good bacteria.”
“Good bacteria?”
“I’m sure there’s a more scientific explanation than I can offer, but my point is, she needs to be okay with a little disorder in life.”
“She knows how to make a mess.”
“Hale,” I pleaded. “Do I need to spell it out?”
He knew what I was getting at. He was a perfectionist with deep-seated OCD tendencies. Hale liked cleanliness because, in his mind, it assured he was in control. But Elara was reliant on more than just Hale, and sometimes her high standards for perfect order took a toll on those who took care of her—namely me. I wasn’t a slob, but compared to Hale I was far from tidy.
“No, I get it. I’ll try to be a little more lax around her regarding subtle messes.”
I chuckled. As he made that promise, he imperceptibly angled his glass so that it was the exact distance from his plate that it was when he started eating.
“Thank you.”
“How about you? Do you need anything other than some soap to wash that slobber and pen off your hand?”
I smiled, thinking him the sweetest man tight-ass in the whole wide world. “I could use a cuddle buddy.”
He glanced back at the television. “Do we have to watch Steel Magnolias?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Okay. Let me shower and change, then I’ll be your cuddle buddy.”
I stood in my burrito blanket and kissed his head. “You’re the best.”
“Wash your hands,” he called as I headed back to the sofa.