Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Milo nods like he knows what all of it means. Toren turns to me and winks. “The second she’s out of sight, I’m going to take him into the kitchen and corrupt him.”
“Holy guacamole,” I mutter.
Toren’s standing so close, and his big hand is hanging at his side. His fingers twitch and flex as if he can already feel the sweet sugary icing. I don’t know why cakes are an obsession for him, his brother and sister, and cousins. But Granny’s right. It’s a game, and they’ve been doing it since they were kids. They’ve upped their skill level since then, at least when I was still around. Now they try and lick or taste parts of it—unseen parts—and see if anyone will notice when it’s served.
Yeah. Highly unsanitary, if you ask me, but they insist they’re all family and are sharing germs in close proximity anyway, so what does it matter if someone eats a slice of cake that someone grazed with their finger or tongue ahead of time?
Once, Toren insisted they had to taste the cake because it might be poisoned, and since Granny hadn’t hired an official taster—I’m not sure where they’d find someone willing to take a job like that—they had to do it.
“I guess we should go in?” I whisper, my voice croaking just a little, betraying how nervous I am. It betrays something else too. Something warm and heavy I feel in the pit of my stomach that has more to do with me being here right now, with all the Cromwells again. With Toren again.
Like old times.
But this isn’t old times. This is new times, and we’re not together. This isn’t about us. This is about Milo, our son. Yeah, new times indeed.
I wish my ovaries and lady cave would get the memo. I realize my panties are kind of damp, and even though it’s hot and sticky out, I’m not sure I can entirely blame the weather. I know I can’t blame my pounding heart on the weather, though adrenaline might be responsible, and even if it’s not, I’m sticking with that. The heaviness in my chest feels a little bit like…I don’t know. The ache of loneliness, maybe. I’ve missed this, and I can’t pretend otherwise.
At the moment, a dark-haired head pops out the door. Ash Cromwell. The owner of the house, host, and the oldest of the Cromwell bunch.
“Are you two going to get in here, or are you content with standing out on the sidewalk in the blazing sun all day long for tourists to gawp at as they go by?”
“We’re coming,” Toren grumbles.
I have a smile ready for Ash, even if it’s as wobbly as my legs and the rest of me are.
A smaller woman with mahogany hair in a messy bun and a huge grin steps out beside Ash. “Leave them alone,” she chides.
Ash wraps an arm around the woman and pulls her in close. Going by the adoring way he looks at her and the protective way he holds her, I would say this is Ellis. His fiancé.
“Hi,” I say shyly after Toren enters ahead of me into the house.
“I’m Ellis.” She offers me a dainty palm, and I take it, feeling like a giant even though I’m only probably four or five inches taller. She’s cute. Petite and curvy, sweet and pretty.
“Welcome back to the den of iniquity,” Ash tells me with a big grin. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”
“Asherly Cromwell!” Ellis elbows him hard in the ribs. She’s at the perfect angle for a good jab, and he grunts.
“What?” Ash groans. “She’s come to know that the Cromwells are only good for cake licking and dry humor. I’m just trying to welcome her back. Anything less would seem disingenuous.”
Toren turns around. He’s only made it a few feet ahead of me. “It’s ingenuine, I believe.”
Ash grins. “That’s the Toren I know and love.” Then, he drops his voice to a thick whisper and continues, “The cake is in the kitchen. Granny hid it in the cupboards above the stove. She said no one would find it up there, but then she couldn’t get it up there by herself and had to come and ask me for help.”
“She probably has it booby-trapped.”
Ash shrugs and grins. Kirian, who looks like his brother with his dark hair, Taylen, who looks exactly like Toren with his light gray eyes and sandy hair, though his eyes have a few more brownish flecks in them, and Leandra all come and join Ash at the door.
The cousins all have one thing in common. The men are all built like mountains. They’re all tall, granite men with hard jaws, chiseled features, and muscles for days. Leandra is tall, but luckily for her, she has less of the muscles and chiseling going on and is much softer, prettier, and more womanly. She’s like a female mountain sans goats and trees but with all the sunshine, fresh air, and nice, clean drinking water from crystal flowing springs.