Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Chapter 4
Baker
“So I’m putting you and Baker in your old room. Your dad’s already carried your bags up,” Tara’s mom tells us after dinner.
I can see the minute that Tara grasps what her mother’s saying. “No!” she almost screams. “I mean no. I can bunk in Matt’s room. Baker can have my room.”
“Nonsense, Tara. What’s wrong with you tonight? You’ve barely eaten your dinner. You’ve been quiet. Even more quiet than normal,” her mom says.
“Mrs. Scott, thank you so much for the hospitality. Really. Pot roast is one of my favorite meals, and yours was so good. And thank you so much for letting me stay in your home,” I tell her to help Tara out. She seems like she’s about to hyperventilate or something.
I reach under the table and run my hand across her leg to soothe her, but her whole body tenses next to me.
“Mrs. Scott? You can call me Janet. Or who knows, maybe one day soon you’ll be calling me Mom,” she says with a big smile. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get dessert.”
As soon as her mom walks out of the room, Tara bangs her head into her hand then looks up at me. “I’m going to fix this. I promise. I know we can’t sleep in the same bed. I can’t believe she’s already talking marriage.” She starts to whisper as her dad walks in with a tray of coffee and her mom walks in with dessert. “I’ll fix this.”
I squeeze her hand and bring it over to my thigh. I run circles with my thumb across her soft skin.
“So, Baker, how’s business?” Mr. Scott asks me.
“Good. We’re staying busy. We’ve got quite a few new clients, and I’ve had to hire a few crews to keep up,” I tell him. Mr. Scott is an easygoing man, and I think Tara was right. Her dad doesn’t care that I’m her boss or how old I am. He just wants her to be happy.
“And what about my pumpkin? She a big help in the office?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
I put my arm around Tara. “She has proven herself to be irreplaceable. I don’t know how I could make it without her,” I tell him honestly. It’s like second nature for me to pull Tara in and kiss her forehead. I want to kiss her lips again, but I’m afraid she’d combust right in her seat if I tried it. She looks like she’s about to blow a gasket.
“Dad” she says. “Mom said you put us in my old room. I can stay with Matt on the twin bed in his room, and Baker can have my room. We don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
Matt, who’s been in and out of the room on his phone most of the night, finally looks up. “Except me. I’ll be uncomfortable if I have to share a room with my sister.”
“Nonsense, pumpkin. I thought the same thing too, but your mom convinced me that we’re hip,” Mr. Scott says, rolling his eyes. “Whatever that means. You and Baker take your room.”
Tara starts to argue, but I stop her by squeezing onto her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Scott.” I quickly change the subject. “Janet, is that apple pie? My favorite!”
Tara
What in the world is going on right now? Am I in some kind of strange universe or what? I’m sitting at my parents’ dinner table, talking about Baker and me sleeping in the same room together over apple pie. Is this for real?
I’ve done all I could to try and sway their decision, but it seems like Baker was trying to stop me. What’s he thinking? We can’t sleep in the same room together, much less the same bed.
I look at him over my fork, and he’s smiling at my parents. He has them talking about their work, and from the looks of it, he’s even won over my little brother by the way he’s put his phone down for the last five minutes. It has to be some kind of record.
Finally, when everyone’s had their fill, I try to get myself a breather. I need a little space to think about things and to bring myself back down to reality. This is fake, Tara. Fake! “Mom, I’ll take care of cleanup.”
“Nonsense. I know you and Baker have to be tired after working all day and then driving almost three hours home. It’s nice your boss let you leave early so you could get here in time for dinner.” She cackles at her joke and then pushes me toward Baker, who catches me in his arms.
“Thanks again, Mrs.—” And then with a stern look from my mom, he finishes with, “Janet. Everything was so good.”
“Yeah, thanks, Mom! It was perfect.” I go to hug her and my dad and then reach for Baker’s outstretched hand.