Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“They’ve got to be at least a hundred years old.” Daddy was special presents on his birthday excited and just kept petting my floor. “The wood.”
Was pretty?
Hmm.
I should’ve gotten my snack before he stopped petting the cabinets.
How long did Daddies usually pet things for?
Chapter 12
Grady
“Pets?” Alick seemed to be getting littler the deeper we got into the house but that might’ve been because he thought his Daddy was nuts.
“No, I promise. I won’t get distracted again.” He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t point that out verbally.
No, he just took my hand and kept me moving away from the shelves in the living room.
If those didn’t count as pretty, what would his playroom look like?
Shit.
No more petting the house.
“Daddy likes your house, baby boy.” I shrugged as he giggled. “Sorry.”
Giving me an adorably understanding nod, he squeezed my hand. “Pretty.”
Yep, his house was pretty and he was smart because he didn’t let me stop to admire the molding on the wall. “Grandma.”
Well, I hadn’t been able to follow the family tree earlier, but someone’s grandma had clearly had a hand in the plasterwork. “It’s beautiful.”
And gone in a flash.
“Hungry, Daddy.” Alick gave me a slightly skeptical look like he wasn’t sure he could trust me not to wander off and forget the plan…and he was probably smart.
“I’m sorry, baby boy.” How long had I spent looking at the grain in the wood? Oh, maybe it was the nails that I’d gotten distracted by. “No more petting. I promise.”
He sighed.
“Okay, no more petting until after our tour and after you get food.” How had I forgotten that he was hungry?
That got a giggle out of him, so I must’ve sounded more believable that time.
“You said it’d been renovated. You didn’t prepare me for your house.” I shrugged as he tried to hide his snickers as he brought me into his playroom. “It’s not my fault.”
Oh wow.
More laughter pointed out that I’d started to reach for the walls.
Oops.
Hands in pockets.
No touching the pretty woodwork.
But there were flowers and leaves and was that—
No. I had self-restraint.
I could control myself.
Hands were going to stay in my pockets.
“You have a very pretty playroom, baby boy.” Pulling my gaze away from the incredible woodwork of his shelves, I ignored the intricate vines and flowers that were climbing all over the front of the bookcase and studied the rest of the room. “You’ve got lots of plants.”
There were plastic ones and real ones and a fake dancing one with sunglasses and it all came together to be a perfect description of my mate. While the rest of the house had little pots of flowers on every surface, in his playroom they were about fun and silliness.
“I bet that one needs lots of sunlight to grow.” Sounding very serious as I pointed toward the dancing one, I got a giggle from him. “I’ve heard they’re very delicate.”
And probably went through a lot of batteries based on how he laughed and waved his arms to show me how we were supposed to play with it. “Yep, very special and delicate.”
“Dancing, Daddy.” He bounced over and wiggled in front of the toy, waving his arms to make the flower dance.
I laughed and came up behind him, waving my arms too as I kissed his head. “We’re great dancers.”
That got more happy sounds coming from my cutie and he leaned back into me, just watching the toy wiggle and sing in front of us. “You like…”
For some reason he had to fight to stay big enough to talk, unlike earlier. So he took a breath and tried again as the flower danced. “You like my house, Daddy?”
There was more to that question than met the eye, but I wasn’t sure what he was really looking for. Therefore, I just stuck with the facts and tried to give as much detail as I could. “Yes, I really like your house, and I think it’s wonderful that it’s been in your family for generations.”
But he was going to draw that family tree at some point…it needed visual aids to make sense.
“I like my house.” Pulling back from whatever younger headspace he’d been sliding into, he picked up one of my hands and started using it to point around the room. “I like my shelves and my room and my garden.”
Yep, he’d been looking for something and I hadn’t given it to him.
“I do too. I always imagined having a yard to draw and work on my projects in and this is perfect. You even have trails for me to walk around when I need a break.” Kissing his head, I gave him a hug with my free arm. “And you have lots of privacy. It’s perfect.”
He made a happy, almost agreeing sound and wiggled against me, completely unaware of what his ass was doing to me. “And I have friends and work and family and fun…but you don’t have family.”