Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Dani glances down at my dog, who’s sitting at her fucking feet like the traitor he is, tongue lolling out to the side and lips lifted in what looks like a doggie smile.
“Yeah, he seems super delicate,” she deadpans.
The fire in her eyes has gone out, replaced with regret. “I’m sorry for assuming you only brought me here for a quick fuck.”
I step toward her, getting as close as I dare, which I’ll admit is stupidly, dangerously close considering I thought she might smack me a minute ago. “Apology accepted.” Taking the helmet from her, I turn to put it on the handlebar, adding, “And I don’t do quick fucks. I like to take my time so that you’re completely satisfied.”
With that, I leave her standing there with Peanut Butter, her jaw hanging open as she watches me walk to my front door.
“You coming?” I call back, peeking over my shoulder. “And to be clear, I mean to the door, not orgasming just from the sight of my ass.”
She makes a noise of shocked displeasure behind me that I take not-so-secret delight in, and then I hear her stomping across the drive. By the time I unlock the door, she’s right behind me.
“Fine, show me this house of yours and make me dinner.”
She makes it sound like she’s allowing me the opportunity to do so. Honestly, I’m not sure she’s wrong because I think it’s an honor she wouldn’t give many.
As I open the door, Peanut Butter jets between our legs, going inside first and heading straight for his bed in the corner of the living room, next to my couch. There are others in the primary bedroom, my workout room, and the back porch, but he’s often on the couch or my bed too. He basically has run of the place everywhere he goes.
I close the door behind us, watching as Dani looks around my house and wondering what she thinks. “It’s nothing special or fancy,” I tell her, downplaying the importance of the space.
I know it’s not like my brothers’ or sister’s places, which vary from ridiculously huge and expensive to slightly less large and pricey. Cole’s suburban paradise is the exception, but it was Janey’s first, and they do still have the downtown building as an investment. But I don’t need real estate. When I bought this place, what I needed was a home away from the Harrington name, and this was it for me, something I bought and paid for with money I earned with my own labor. I don’t honestly know if Mom and Dad helped my siblings with their first homes, but it doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t have accepted a dime from them no matter what.
“It’s lovely,” Dani says. “Really clean too. Especially with a dog living here… and Peanut Butter.” She fights to hide the grin that’s trying to spread across her lips. I think, for Dani, that’s another version of an apology, acknowledging her overreaction.
“Well, now that I’ve impressed you with my ability to wield a vacuum and mop, wait till you see what I can do with a skillet and some chicken breasts.”
Peanut Butter’s head pops up at the word ‘chicken’.
“You already ate,” I remind him, and he lays his head back down with a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes, which is somehow something he recently learned to do.
Dani’s head swivels from the dog to me, her eyes wide. “Did he roll his eyes?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think my niece, Grace, taught him. She’s eleven, going on twenty-three, and solidly in her pre-teen, adolescent angst era. According to my brother, she rolls her eyes approximately eleven hundred times per day, so I think Peanut Butter picked up on it.”
Dani looks back to Peanut Butter, her smile beaming now. “You two are the cutest.”
I’m pretty sure she mostly means my dog is cute, but she included me in that total of two, so I’m taking the win. I preen, strutting to the kitchen and pulling out a barstool, inviting her to sit and oversee my work.
She settles in, undoing her hair while I wash my hands. The time in the braid has left soft waves in the strands, and I long to run my fingers through them to feel their silkiness over my hands. But I don’t make a move toward her. Things are way too tenuous for that. First, I need to wow her with my culinary skills.
I gather my ingredients from the fridge and pantry, lining everything up on the counter, and then pull out a skillet and big pot. I start water to boil in the pot, salting it generously, and see approval in Dani’s eyes.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” I tease, and she has the decency to duck her chin as she blushes. “I told you I can cook.”