Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I’ve been watching her all night between kidding myself I can sleep now that she’s here with me. It only feels natural that I’d want to keep her here for more of the same.
I can see how much her store means to her—Iris, too.
“You want to grab breakfast on the way?” I ask her, propping myself up on my elbow, watching her struggle to find her clothes and pretend like she can move around properly.
“Uh huh,” she says absently, the sheen from everything I put in her last night trailing down her thighs as she bends over right in front of me.
Reminding me of the first time I saw her up close, which was only a day ago.
I clear my throat loudly without taking my eyes off what I know is mine now, curling my finger in a come hither motion to summon her over to me. All four feet from where she’s bent over.
“You never got your good morning kiss,” I inform her, patting the space in the bed next to me.
“Oh no, you don’t!” she cautions me, raising a finger herself and trying to avoid the inevitable.
“James… James,” she says with feigned authority.
But we both know it’s useless.
Falling back into my arms, I kiss her good morning again and again for every moment I didn’t get to while she slept, making sure she knows that this is how it is now. How I want every morning of our lives to be from now on.
“I’ll drive you to work,” I eventually sigh. “But if you really want to run your flower store, then I’m going to be hanging around there an awful lot,” I warn her.
She seems to like the idea, but I have to promise not to act weird in front of her customers.
“I won’t,” I tell her confidently. “I’ve got you now. You’re mine,” I sigh again, feeling like I’m on a cloud hearing myself say it. I fall back onto the pillows and hold her until she growls with mock annoyance.
“It’s my baby, James,” she says suddenly, making my heart leap. Hearing her say the word “baby” just gives me an instant thrill, like I’ve won a jackpot.
I do know what she means. The store is her baby. At least it is for now.
She’ll have a real-life baby of our own growing inside her very soon if she doesn’t already.
“I know it is,” I tell her, pecking her lips and holding her face in my hand.
“Just let me be a pain in the ass and spoil you rotten in the meantime, okay?” I suggest.
“In the meantime?” Jasmine asks with a puzzled look.
“Sure,” I remark, “Because soon, real soon, I think we’ll have a different kind of baby to get up for at all hours, don’t you?” I ask, cocking my brow.
“I never thought about that,” Jasmine murmurs, as if she’s suddenly torn between the idea of one over the other.
“Then there’s you moving in here. We’ll probably have to redecorate. Or would you prefer to live someplace else altogether?” I ask casually, even though I can feel my heart and mind racing at the idea.
All of it.
All of her.
All to myself every day from now on. What’s not to get excited about? Who wants to go to work, anyway? I know I don’t.
Her look goes from determined to unsure to overwhelmed in a moment.
“Alright, alright,” I soothe her, rubbing her back with my hand.
“I’m just giving you the heads-up, and this is what I mean about you just letting me be a pain in the ass,” I remind her, noting her suspicious look, which only makes me smile wider than ever.
“James… what have you done?” she asks ominously.
“You’ll see. Then you can decide… about work, I mean.” I tell her, leaving her hanging, but it’s just for a little while.
I really want her to see that she can have a business and not have to be there the whole time. Hell, I know all about that. It’s only fair I show her just how easy it can be.
She’s more determined than I figured and not just getting herself ready for a day at work after the night we just shared. Jasmine asks me repeatedly to explain what I mean, and I almost cave in, but that would ruin it. I want her to see for herself.
“Let’s get ready and get to work, eh?” I reply at least a dozen times before she notices the time and realizes we can’t sit around all day talking about it.
She’s a strong, independent woman—her own boss. I feel prouder of her than ever once we pull up in front of her little store.
Iris’ husband, Phil, is waving to us from the coffee shop, but Jasmine’s attention is on her store. The store already has a couple of early bird customers, and someone else is serving them from behind her counter.