Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Of course, since I’d done the same violating creep on Archer, I can’t get too annoyed.
“So, since I’m on sabbatical right now, I’m thinking we skip that Dr. Reed thing and go with just Miranda?” I say, looking up at him.
And then I feel it. Something happens with my eyelashes.
Did they just… flutter?
Oh god. Am I flirting?
The ever-so-slight eye roll from Kylee tells me that a) yes, I am, b) I’m not doing it well, and c) it’s not the first time a woman’s turned all melty in front of her father.
“So, you’re into physics, huh?” I ask, trying to pull myself together.
The way that her eyes light up at the subject warms my heart a little, reminding me of a long-ago Miranda who loved the subject for the sake of it, not as a career path.
“Totally,” she says. “But my school’s science program sucks.
“Stinks,” she amends quickly after a look from Christian. “The only thing we learned are the planets of our solar system.”
“As if that’s the only one,” I scoff.
“Right?!” Her voice is full of enthusiasm that tells me we’re going to get along just fine. “My teacher didn’t even know what I meant when I asked her about the spiral arms!”
Christian blinks once, and I smile at him. “Milky Way stuff.”
“Ah. I love candy bars! I know, I know,” he says, making a calm-down motion with his hands to a scandalized Kylee. “No more dad jokes.”
“He tells them a lot,” Kylee says.
I don’t mind.
“So, anything in particular you’re wanting to learn?” I ask her.
“Well.” Kylee tightens her ponytail. “I looked up the curriculum for your The Universe course online. That sounds like an okay place to start.”
“Honey, Dr.—Miranda teaches college students. I think—”
“No, no, Kylee’s right again,” I interrupt, smiling. “That’s a great place to start.”
Bright as Kylee seems, I’ll likely need to adjust the actual textbooks to something more age appropriate, maybe simplify the subject matter a bit. But there’s no reason I can’t structure the lesson plan in the same way.
“So, how many days a week are you thinking?” I ask, directing the question to Christian, hoping that my eye contact is normal and not adoring.
“Five days,” Kylee says quickly.
He gives her a telling look. “You have soccer Monday and Wednesday. Remember?”
The way her nose scrunches says she does remember but was hoping he forgot.
Christian’s gaze returns to mine before he flicks his eyes upward for the briefest of seconds, all exasperated dad, but lovingly so.
“How are your Tuesdays and Thursdays?” he asks me.
“Wide open. The sabbatical thing, remember?”
“What’s that?” Kylee asks.
It’s what happens when your entire life falls apart around you.
“It’s one of the perks of professor life,” I pseudo-lie. “The idea is to take a break from the classroom and campus life to explore new ideas.”
“What ideas are you exploring?”
“Um.” I think of my ever-growing stack of astrology books tucked into a closet. “Star stuff?”
“She’s dumbing it down for you, Dad,” Kylee says, giving her father a comforting pat on the arm.
“I appreciate that,” Christian says, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners makes me melt a little. “Afternoons? Weekends? What’s best?”
“I can work with either,” I reply. “Whatever’s good for your schedule. Or your ex-wife’s, if she’ll be the one dropping Kylee off.”
I mentally cringe at the blatant curiosity in my voice.
“They never married. Mom and Dad hooked up in college. I was an accident,” Kylee announces in a matter-of-fact way that makes it clear she has zero hang-ups about this.
Christian rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Mornings are a little tricky for me, but I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule in the late afternoon.”
“He’s on the phone a lot,” Kylee chimes in, doing an exaggerated impression of someone yapping on the phone.
“Thanks for that, Ky,” he says, giving her a look.
“How’s 4 p.m.?” I ask.
“Four is great,” Kylee says, pouncing as though afraid the opportunity will disappear if she doesn’t act fast. “Right? Dad?”
The way he looks at her makes me think he’s wrapped around her finger, but happily so.
“Sure. I can drop her off at four. How long do these tutoring things last? An hour?”
“I have no idea, but I’d say let’s make it two. If Kylee’s down,” I say.
Kylee nods eagerly, but before she can reply, there’s a sharp knock at my front door. Before I can reply, it opens, and my obnoxious neighbor appears. “Hey, Randy, did you water the basil again? I already told you—”
Archer breaks off when he sees I’m not alone. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hello,” Kylee says with what I can only describe as a purr.
Oh, Kylee. You poor thing. If Archer’s special brand of scruffy impatience is her type, she’s got a rough road ahead.
I make introductions. “Archer, this is Christian and Kylee Hughes. Christian and Kylee, this is my neighbor, Archer. Who doesn’t knock.”
“I knocked,” he says with a frown. “Did you not hear me knock?”