Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Of course, that only makes the guilt in my chest sink in even further. After all, she should be reporting me to the police, or at the very least, calling her mom. But instead, Mari looks blissed out. She even hums a bit before taking a big bite of her hot sandwich.
“How’s your bacon, egg, and cheese?” she asks, turning to me with an enormous smile.
I look down at the sub currently stuffed in the cupholder between us. To be honest, it’s excellent. We didn’t stop for breakfast this morning because I was desperate to continue our drive. As a result, I asked the kitchen to pack us breakfasts to go, and we ended up with these delicious babies as a result.
“It’s great,” I growl. “Pass me a hash brown.”
Mari nods and reaches into the paper bag to grab what looks like a cross between a hush puppy and a chicken nugget.
“Here you go,” she says, holding the golden-brown cake out. “Ooof, this is going to be hard with you driving, isn’t it?”
Then, before I can do anything, she reaches forward and gently places the hash brown before my lips. The aroma is mouth-watering. It’s all salty fried potatoes, sizzling oil, and fragrant onion. But it’s the intimacy of Mari’s gesture that makes my stomach clench on itself, and before I realize, she’s fed me from her hand.
“Oooh, you got some grease on your cheek,” Mari says with a giggle before reaching forward with a napkin between her fingers. Then, she dabs my cheek and chin before shooting a mischievous smile my way. “There. You’re all good, Daddy.”
I start in my seat, glancing sideways at her, but choose to say nothing. Yet my sweet stepdaughter won’t let the issue go.
“Do you like it when I call you Daddy, Harris?” she hums in a low voice. “You know you can’t avoid the topic forever. We’ll have to talk about what happened last night at some point.”
My shoulders slump and I let out a sigh, even as my eyes stay fixed on the road.
“I know, sweetheart. We do need to talk about it, and that’s why I’d like to take some time off from our road trip. I mean, I’ll still be dropping you off at college, of course,” I add in a quick tone. “But how about stopping at one of these orchards?” I ask, gesturing to a sign that whizzes by. “It’s apple-picking season, and I think we could use the detour to talk, don’t you?”
Mari nods before whipping out her phone.
“That’s a great idea,” she says in an agreeable voice. “Let me just look up the best orchard around here. Oh looky, there’s one that got five stars from over a thousand reviews. It says it’s called Killian Farms, and it’s just seven miles up ahead. How about that?”
“Sounds as good as any,” I say in a low growl. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes there’s a wooden sign on a post announcing the existence of Killian Farms, and I pull onto a dirt road that leads through some grasslands before becoming a small parking lot. I stop the sedan, and Mari practically bounces out of the car.
“This is going to be fun,” she says with a cheeky smile while pulling on her coat. “This is the best detour ever.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I let out a deep chuckle as a sense of well-being permeates my chest. Mari’s right because it’s a gorgeous fall day. The orchards opening before us are situated on gently rolling hills with apple trees covered in thick leaves. Pops of red, orange, yellow and even pink weigh down the boughs, and it seems that there are apples everywhere: on the trees, on the floor, and even in huge bins that the farm has collected for our convenience.
“Okay, let’s get started,” I say as we stroll to the front gate. “This must be where we get tickets.”
“I can’t wait,” Mari enthuses with a breathless smile my way. “You know I love apples, Harris.”
It’s true because my sweet stepdaughter isn’t much of a cook, but she’s a terrific baker. All year round, the pretty brunette crafts pies, cupcakes, cakes, as well as fancy pastries that I can’t even name. All I know is that I’ve sampled dozens of her sweet treats, and they’re downright delicious. I’ll definitely miss the sugar-laden desserts now that she’s off to college.
I pay for the tickets, and then we grab our bag and head into the orchard. The sun warms our head and shoulders and as we walk, suddenly I feel Mari’s small hand slip into mine. At first, I don’t know what to think so I just continue walking. But after a few seconds, I realize how right it feels. Mari is amazing, and I’m lucky to be in nature with her now.