Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
That’s exactly what it is. It’s more than a house. Grayson has made a beautiful home for his daughters.
Me? I live above my business, in a studio apartment. This afternoon has reminded me that I want a family. I want a partner to go through life with, and I want kids. Hell, I even want the dog and the white picket fence.
I got lost in owning and running my business and forgot what life is really about. The memories and the relationships. I think about the hugs given to me and smile.
Life is about the perfect embrace.
Chapter 8
Grayson
I woke to another article about Laken and me. I understand how Tate found out about our run-in at the market. I’m sure she has eyes all over this town willing to give her information for her column. What I don’t know is how she found out that Laken came to my place? Not only that, but she knew my girls were there. Her article yammered on about me and my girls getting close to the bookstore owner.
She’s not wrong. My daughters are enamored with Laken.
And me? Well, I don’t know what I am.
I know I think about her all the time. She’s been thrust into my life, and it’s as if the universe is trying to show me how great we could be together.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I park my truck behind the firehouse, and my eyes, with a mind of their own, look across the street at One More Chapter. Laken is walking inside the front door with a box from the bakery in her hands. I watch her until she disappears inside.
“Hey, Cap,” Jacob says as I walk into the firehouse. He’s way too chipper for Monday morning. “Whatcha got there?” He points to the large plastic container in my hands.
“The girls made brownies yesterday.” I shrug, walking past him to the small kitchen and placing the container on the table.
“Don’t hide behind your daughters. You know you were getting your Betty Crocker on,” he teases, opening the container and grabbing a brownie. He shoves half of it into his mouth and moans. “So good,” he says once he swallows. “You know, if this Captain thing isn’t working for you, maybe you could get a job at the bakery in town,” he jokes.
“Laugh it up,” I tell him. “See if I bring you in any more snacks.”
He shoves the other half of the brownie into his mouth and reaches inside the container for another. “I better enjoy it while I can,” he says after swallowing.
I don’t need him to tell me how good they are. I had three last night. I also caved and let the girls have them for breakfast. Not my finest moment, but it is what it is. I also don’t need to tell him that it wasn’t me who helped the girls make the brownies. If they knew that Laken was at my place, baking with my daughters, spending time with them, with us, they’d never let me live it down.
Disappearing into my office to get some paperwork done, I try to push Laken out of my mind. I’ve lived in the same town as her for my entire life, and now all of a sudden, in the last two weeks, she’s everywhere. My daughters adore her, and have for a while now. Laken is the reason for their love of books, and for the fact that my kitchen smells like brownies and her sweet perfume.
I barely slept a wink last night trying to work this… Hell, I don’t even know how to explain. The best way I can describe it is desire. My heart races when she’s near, and my cock, well, he’s definitely ready to party.
I’ve been hit on countless times since losing my wife, and I’ve never had this reaction to any of those women. Hell, I’ve seen Laken since then. I’ve passed her in the mornings as we both jog around town. I’ve seen her at the market, and I’m sure a million other instances in the last three years.
Why her? Why now?
I don’t have the answers to either of those questions.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I force myself to get busy and forget about my new distraction that is Laken Abbott.
I’m just finishing up our call report for the month when I hear the sounds of my daughters. Yes, I know it’s my girls. I would recognize their giggles and little voices anywhere. Mom has them today, and usually, they visit on Thursdays when she takes them to the bookstore. I don’t know why they’re here, but I’ll never pass up a hug from my girls.
Walking out of my office, I see Mom standing with the twins, Jacob, and a few of the other volunteers. Mason Creek is a small town, and we can’t afford to pay around the clock full-time firefighters. That makes us mostly volunteer-based. We have some incredible men and women on our crew, and I’m thankful for each and every one of them. They make my job easy, most days. “What? No hug for your dad?” I call out.