Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Milo presses the cancel button, and the black pieces of toast pop into the air. “It’s not on fire. It’s just done.”
“What’s the deal with you and burnt bread?”
“I thought you liked my signature grilled cheese. You’ve eaten them for years. And you’ve made me think I need fruit on it.” He douses the burnt toast in butter.
“I like you, Milo. The burnt grilled cheese has been an acquired taste.”
“You ate it because you liked me?” He hands me a piece of toast.
Butter drips down his arm. I can’t help but grin. I take a bite, and butter runs down my chin. Milo licks his wrist and forearm.
“Why burnt bread? You have to tell me.” I giggle, chasing butter with my tongue.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He manages to stuff half the slice of toast into his mouth.
“Yes. I ate burnt grilled cheese because I liked you.”
He hums, chewing slowly. After he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, he smirks. “Do you still like me?”
I use my thumb to wipe butter from the side of his mouth, and by wipe, I mean I smear it along his cheek.
“Don’t do that. You don’t want to play this game with me.” He narrows his eyes.
I grin, taking a step backward. “What game?”
Milo stalks toward me like a predator. And I don’t see what’s in his hand until it’s too late.
Until he’s rubbing the stick of softened butter all over my face.
“Milo …” I bat away his hand.
He comes at me again. I run around the sofa.
He jumps over it.
“Stop,” I squeal with nowhere to go. I run to the bed, jump on it, and bolt toward the front door.
He hooks my waist with his arm. My knees give out, and we fall to the floor. I claw a chunk of the butter from his hand and smash it into his face.
“You’re gonna pay …” he says, wearing a huge grin before burying his buttery face into my neck.
I wriggle beneath him, smearing the butter on his shirt, jeans, and hair while freeing myself. I crawl to my feet, but he grabs my ankle, a move straight out of a horror movie.
“Milo!” I kick my leg, and my side hurts from laughing.
“What is going on?”
Milo and I jerk our attention in the direction of the door.
Jolene parks her hands on her hips, brown eyes unblinking, matte red lips molded into a big O.
Fletcher steps inside the door just behind her. He looks more upset than surprised, his scowl more intense than usual.
“We were having toast, and I accidentally got butter on Milo’s face.” I scramble to my feet; butter smeared all over me. Clumps of it in my hair. “He thought I did it on purpose, and things got…” I give Milo a glance “…out of hand.”
Milo slicks back his greasy hair, lumbering to his feet. “It was childish. Sorry.”
Jolene nods ever so slightly, but it doesn’t soften her expression. “I …” She shakes her head as if doing so will change what she sees before her. “I was inviting you to breakfast, Milo.”
“Milo, get showered and meet me in my office in twenty minutes,” Fletcher says while keeping his evil glare aimed at me. “Indiana, go hose yourself off behind the barn before you go into the house. Put on something appropriate and behave while we have breakfast. Understood?”
How is this my fault? And why does Milo get to go straight to his shower, but I have to hose off like the dog?
“Let’s go, Jolene.” Fletcher makes his authoritarian exit.
Jolene shoots a full round of daggers in my direction before spinning on her heels and closing the door behind her.
“Hose off behind the barn?” I whisper, staring at the closed door.
Milo doesn’t move. “Hose won’t work. Butter removal requires hot water and soap.”
“He was trying to humiliate me because he thinks I just humiliated him.”
“Yes,” Milo says, making his way to the door and locking it.
Shirt off.
Chaps off.
Jeans off.
Milo retreats toward me in nothing but his black briefs. “Take your clothes off, Indiana.” He grabs my face and kisses me before I can sputter a word.
My hands hold onto his arms for support, my head spinning from this kiss. He releases me just as quickly as he grabs me, making me even dizzier. On a sudden pivot, he struts into the bathroom, pushing his briefs down his butt just as he disappears.
It’s the sexiest move I have ever witnessed.
The shower turns on.
I gulp, rooted in place.
“Don’t make me late to Fletcher’s office,” he calls from the shower, steam wafting out the partially open door.
My feet inch in that direction, and I peek around the corner. Butterflies flutter in a frenzy deep in my belly. I’ve seen his naked backside before … in the barn, nailing a woman to the wall. This is different.