Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I scan the room until my gaze settles on the dishes.
“A man standing at the sink, shirtless, doing dishes. That image stirs something inside me that I thought was dead.”
Bingo.
I strip my shirt off and toss it onto the counter. “The burgers were great tonight. Thank you for making them.”
“You’re welcome.”
I grin as I turn on the tap. She wasn’t expecting that thank-you.
“You did a great job of grilling them,” she says.
“Thanks. Glad I can do something helpful in the kitchen.”
We chuckle at the memory of my disastrous attempt at dinner.
I plug the sink and add some dish soap. The hot water creates bubbles immediately. I begin to place the dishes from dinner in the basin.
“I was on your social media stuff last night,” I say.
She laughs. “I saw.”
“There were so many comments on there about people wanting to hire you,” I say. “How many of them contact you?”
“A lot. Like, a lot, a lot.”
“Do you make good money from it?”
“Way more than you would expect.” Her voice is filled with confidence and joy. “I can’t believe it sometimes. Well, I can, actually. Preserving memories is important, and I think after the last decade or so, when everything’s gone digital, people are wanting tangible things again.”
Makes sense. “Is that something you want to do full-time? Or do you just want to pick projects up as you can fit them in?”
“Right now, I’m booked solidly through the end of the year. I’ve been careful to pace myself, though. I’ll have a lot of time at the gym with wrestling season coming up this fall, his senior year, and Maddie’s cheer practices and fundraisers—yada yada yada. But I keep telling myself that it’s just two more years, and then I can have a bit more freedom.”
I force a swallow. “If you didn’t have all of that, what would you do?”
“Cry, because that means the kids are gone.” She laughs. “No, I’d probably really lean in to the whole thing and see what I can do with it. It’s exciting to be . . . what did they call me on the morning show? A ‘scrapbooking trailblazer’?”
“I think they said you were ‘blazing the way for future hobbyists.’”
She stills behind me.
Guilt swallows me, reminding me of everything she’s had to give up for our family.
“I’m happy that I’ve been able to stay at home with the kids, Jack. It’s a privilege.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. She’s standing at the table with a softness in her eyes that melts my insides.
“Thank you for giving me that opportunity,” she says.
My hands drip water onto the floor as I turn to face her. “Thank you for giving us the best of you.”
She leans against the table, her lips twitching. “I know what you’re doing.”
I furrow my brow, playing clueless. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re doing dishes shirtless.”
“Ah, that I am.” I look down at my abs. “Does it stir something inside of you?”
She laughs, making her way across the kitchen. “Maybe.”
I hum.
She stands in front of me, peering up into my eyes. I hold my hands up, bent at the elbows, while sudsy water trickles down my forearms.
“How badly do you want to do those dishes?” she asks.
“I don’t know. What are my other options?”
She slides her fingertip around the waistband of my shorts. I suck in a quick breath.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say, licking my bottom lip. “I’m going to wash these dishes the fastest that anyone’s ever washed dishes before.”
She giggles.
“And while I’m doing that, you’re going to go lock every door and window in this cabin,” I say. “The kids can go to Dad’s tonight.”
Her eyes widen. “How fast can you do dishes?”
“We’re about to find out.”
She turns toward the door, and I spring into action at the sink.
Who even am I?
I snort.
A man who’s about to reclaim his wife. That’s who.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LAUREN
Did you lock the doors?” Jack asks, his voice leading him down the hall.
My stomach clenches as I run a toothbrush around my mouth. “Yeah.”
“All of them?” The door closes with a snap. “And the windows?”
“Yeah.” I spit in the sink. “Think we should stick a note on the door to please leave us alone?”
He stands in the doorway, one hand gripping the top of the frame. A smirk that’s as decadent as it is sexy is planted on his lips. My God, this man is something else.
His body is strong—fit. Muscled from days working in the shop. There are scars and marks on his tanned skin from various sports injuries or accidents at work that add an air of strength to his appearance.
A full-body shiver rips down my spine.
It feels like I’m twenty-one again, accompanying Jack to his apartment after our date at the Italian restaurant that was one step more upscale than fast food. It was all our college budgets would allow—Jack’s, mostly, because he wouldn’t let me pay for anything.