Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
What I hadn’t expected was for the boy to be so messy. Seriously, at the age of five, I don’t remember Sean being as dirty as this one…but then again, I never really let Sean have popsicles, either.
“Another rule is that you always eat lunch with the new kid. You will never know if that new kid is your best friend if you don’t put yourself out there.”
“Yes. I sat with Etan last week. He moved from Canananada.” He agreed. “What else?”
Etan was actually Ethan. He wasn’t from Canada, though. He was from the Great Lakes area but had traveled with his father on business trips often that took him across the border.
Cody headed toward me and held his hands out, asking in universal sign language for me to pick him up.
I did and settled him on my lap, remembering a time when my own son would sit exactly where Cody was now sitting.
God, it didn’t seem like it, but that was over thirty years ago.
Jesus, how time flew.
“Never be afraid of asking out the best-looking girl in the room,” I continued. “They may be stunners like your momma, but you’ll never know if you have what it takes to persuade her to date you if you don’t take that first step.”
“I don’t like girls. They’re gross,” Cody countered. “Did you know that the average female lifespan is longer than the male lifespan?”
I grinned. “Yes, I did know that one. Do you know why?”
“No, why?” Cody questioned.
“Because females don’t do stupid stuff in their youth like males do. If they make it past their young adult years, they have a fairly even chance compared with females.”
Winnie broke into our conversation. “What are you teaching my son?”
I grinned at the best-looking girl in the room—hell, in the whole fuckin’ county.
“How to be a man.”
Her smile was brilliant. “I’m glad that someone is teaching him those things. Isn’t he a little young, though?”
I shook my head. “No. A man’s got to start being a man young, because he’ll be there before you know it. You’ve done a good job starting him with please and thank you.”
Winnie winked, then blew us both a kiss before leaving again.
About ten minutes before, Winnie had walked over to ask me if I wanted to go on a walk.
I hadn’t.
The next twenty-four hours I was off. I usually ran about four-to-five miles every day, and then lifted weights afterward. Tomorrow, I might consider running—or walking with her. However, after the day that I’d had, I wouldn’t be walking or running or, hell, even eating healthy.
When I’d seen the crestfallen look on Winnie’s face, I’d offered my babysitting services, and she’d accepted.
Which led to now, Cody dripping popsicle juices on my pants, and me checking out his mother in tight black pants that molded to her ass almost perfectly.
“Another,” Cody ordered.
I tore my gaze away from his mother’s ass and grinned. “You gonna eat that or just let it melt down your arm and onto my pants?”
“Melt,” he said. “Did you know that the ‘rule of thumb’ is derived from an old English law that you couldn’t beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb?”
I burst out laughing. “Where did you hear that?”
“Conleigh was watching a show that I was watching from the hallway. It said it there,” he answered. “Did you beat your wife?”
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t. Some men do, but that’s illegal now.”
“Good.” Cody nodded surely. “I would’ve hated to find out that you did. Then you couldn’t be with my mommy.”
Before I could tell him that I would never do that to his mother, or any woman, he continued.
“My daddy kissed my mommy’s best friend. And last week when I was over there, Morgan broke his arm. He was standing on the counter, trying to get the candy that my daddy had put on the top of the fridge to hide from the kids. He tried to jump from the counter to the fridge but missed. Daddy was with mommy’s best friend outside drinking beer. Does beer taste good? Do you know if it was made in America?”
“The beer?” I questioned.
“No, the fridge,” he said. “It’s a Kenmore.”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I can Google it for you.”
“Do that, would you?”
I grinned and pulled out my phone, then found out that Kenmore refrigerators were, indeed, made in the USA, which I relayed to him.
“What else?”
“What else what?” I wondered.
The boy jumped around like a jackrabbit.
“What else is made in the USA?”
“A lot of stuff,” I said. “But a lot more of it is made outside of the country.”
“I like stuff that’s made in the USA. Only because it has our flag on it, though. Did you know that there are fifty stars on the flag?”
“Sure did,” I told him.
“Did you know that five of the six flags planted on the moon are still standing?” He tilted around to look at me, gauging my reaction.