Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 212755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1064(@200wpm)___ 851(@250wpm)___ 709(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1064(@200wpm)___ 851(@250wpm)___ 709(@300wpm)
I was, of course, but he didn’t need to know that.
It didn’t take as long as I thought it might for him to open up, so I was taking that as a good sign about how he saw me. But his tone was more hesitant than I’d hoped…again, mixed signals. “I know we’ve kind of talked about this, but I wanted to make sure you knew you didn’t have to step in as a Daddy figure while Bishop is gone.”
Nodding slowly, I tried to think about what to say and not just blurt out something random. “I know I’m not Bishop. I promise I’m not trying to be, but I liked reading to you. I’m not saying we have to jump right off the deep end together, but having little time with you, watching cartoons and reading books, would not be stressful for me. You’re my cutie too.”
Ian blushed and the way he shifted in his seat that time looked more bashful than nervous. “Alright, but I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t have any expectations.”
I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t help scoffing. “Well, I have expectations.”
My dramatic reaction had him barely holding back laughter. “What kind? I didn’t think about that. I’m very sorry.”
I sighed and shook my head as I gave him a very forlorn look. “No one thinks about Uncle Cohen.”
Coughing, Ian took a second to breathe and fight back a smile. “You’re right. I was being very selfish. What kind of expectations do you have? I really want to know.”
Probably so he could giggle more.
Shrugging, I dragged it out, trying to imitate Bishop when he was being teasing and ridiculous. “I guess I assumed you would be having dinners with me and I’d get to do things like read you books. I even bought chicken nuggets. The dinosaur ones.”
Those were ridiculously priced.
I could’ve probably made them for half the cost. But as Ian gave me a beaming smile, I knew they’d been worth it. “Really, Uncle Cohen?”
Nodding, I felt more at ease as the excited little in him bounded to the surface. “Yes, and I found more goodies for pancakes, but if you don’t want to spend time with me…”
As my voice trailed off, I shrugged and aimed for a pout I wasn’t quite sure worked. Ian was too distracted to notice my poor acting skills, though. He nearly bounced in his seat and jumped back into the conversation. “I want more pancakes. I can sleep over this week if you want me to. Then we could have pancakes in the morning.”
Big Ian would probably have a nervous breakdown once he realized what little Ian had said. However, for now I just went along with it because as much as we were all trying to make sure everyone had space, I didn’t really need as much as I’d been getting.
Hoping this would be the point to subtly address that, I nodded. “That would be best. I know people do pancakes for dinner, but that just seems wrong.”
Nodding eagerly, Ian’s words rushed out. “And you can make me muffins or even waffles too if you want.”
Was he being nice or greedy?
It was hard to tell.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” But I was going to need to go grocery shopping. “What kind of muffins do you think we should make? What about zucchini and cheddar?”
I was only half teasing, but I laughed as Ian’s eyes widened. “Oh, Uncle Cohen.”
He seemed more shocked by my choice of muffins than he had when he’d realized I wanted to date him and Bishop both.
“Um.” Shaking his head like he wasn’t sure what fresh hell he’d fallen into, he swallowed. “What about chocolate chip or blueberry? Fruit is healthy.”
“I think zucchini might be a fruit too.” I couldn’t remember where I’d heard that, but it made Ian’s eyes get even bigger. “I think I read that somewhere.”
“Uncle Cohen…” He reached over and patted my shoulder. “I’ll help pick out the fruits. Can that be my job?”
I was obviously not to be trusted with muffin flavors.
What did it mean for our relationship when he’d let me flog him but not pick out breakfast?
****
“No, I’m serious.” I shook my head at the memory. “Eli opened the box and it was some kind of glitter bomb from a pissed-off ex. Preston didn’t let anyone open mail inside for a month.”
Ian couldn’t seem to decide whether to laugh or sympathize in horror. “Glitter?”
Just the word made me wince. “Everywhere. Eli said he was crazy, but Preston said they were both nuts.”
I shrugged and continued. “I didn’t know the actual details, but it was insane and I was picking glitter out of my hair for a week. The carpet in Preston’s office had to be professionally cleaned three times, and if you look at it in the right light, you can still see sparkly pieces.”