Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Recuperates,” Frankie corrects, sliding a bowl of soup in front of him.
“Yeah, that.”
I finish off the last of my soup and yawn. “Makes sense.”
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Maverick asks, trying his hardest to rock his stool closer to mine.
“Resting.” I reach out and tug him closer. “That’s about it.”
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“Oh, Mav, he probably—”
“Absolutely. You can even pick what we watch.”
“But you have to finish your soup,” Frankie adds, giving him her mom-eyes.
My dude nods rapidly and then picks up his bowl and drinks the soup down like it’s his favorite flavor milkshake. “Done! Can we watch Toy Story? I know they aren’t super heroes, but…”
“They’re still super cool. Let’s do it.”
Frankie throws her hands in the air. “I guess we’re having a movie day.”
“Can we have popcorn?” The kid’s practically vibrating, he’s so excited.
“Not this time, bud. You and Orion are still recuperating.”
“But hey.” I nudge him with my elbow. “Next time, I’ll show you the best way to eat popcorn.”
“Huh? Like with a fork?”
A laugh bursts out of me, leaving me winded. “What? No. With peanut butter M&Ms.”
His little nose scrunches. “I don’t know about that, O.”
“Listen, I tried your mayo-grilled cheeses, so you can try this, yeah?”
He heaves out a sigh that’s nearly bigger than he is. “Fine. But can we watch it in bed?” Maverick turns his pleading look on Frankie. “Please?”
She rolls her eyes like she’s annoyed, but the brilliant smile on her face says otherwise. “Fine, yes, in the bed. But only if Orion’s cool with it.”
He turns his big, round eyes on me, his lower lip pushed out in a pout. I was already down for whatever, but seriously, how could anyone say no to this kid? “Works for me.”
He jumps up from his stool and takes off toward their bedroom. “I call middle!”
“How are you so good with him?” Frankie asks in his absence.
I don’t reply right away, mostly because I don’t know what to say. Loving Maverick—and his mama—comes as natural as breathing, but she’s not ready to hear that.
Instead, I say, “He’s Maverick. To know the kid is to love him.”
She gives me a look I can’t quite decipher, but doesn’t press the issue further. “Well, thank you.” Frankie holds her hands up, silencing me before I can correct her. “I know, I know. I don’t need to thank you.” She drops her voice low, mimicking me.
“Smartass.”
“Jackass.” She transfers all of our bowls to the sink and begins rinsing them, treating me to a delectable view of her backside.
“Cute ass.”
“What?” She whips around to face me, her eyes wide.
Smirking, I stand from my stool. “You heard me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No arguments there. You need any help?” I tip my head toward the dishes.
“I’ve got it. You need to rest. Why don’t you go lay with Mav and I’ll be right there?”
“If you’re sure…”
“Sure that you’re a pain in my ass,” she grumbles good naturedly.
“Back on the ass again?” I ask, making a big show of checking hers out.
“Go!” She flicks her hands in a shooing motion. “Get out of here, Orion Cartwright. I literally cannot deal with you right now.”
“That’s a damn lie. I’m delightful and we both know it.” She grins and I swear, it goes straight to my dick. “However, I’m still exhausted, so I will go lay down.” I step into the hallway, giving her one last look. “Because I want to, not because you told me to.”
“Sure, sure,” she murmurs, sending me on my way with a megawatt smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRANKIE
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to going to Lizzie—I mean Gigi and Pop-Pop’s house?” I ask Maverick as I wrap a section of my hair around my curling wand.
He’s keeping me company while I get ready for dinner with Orion—he’s insisting on taking me out to thank me for taking such good care of him while he was sick. Kind of ironic, what with his insistence that he needed no thanks for doing the same.
“Uh, yeah!” he shouts, running from the bathroom doorframe to the bed, and back again, like a puppy with the zoomies. “Stella said she made cupcakes and I love cupcakes, Mama. Love. Them!”
“I know you do, but please don’t eat too many. I don’t want you upsetting your stomach.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He makes another lap. “What are you doing tonight? Why does your face look like that?”
“Like what?” I ask, inspecting my reflection in the mirror. All I’m wearing is a little blush, some bronzer, mascara, and lip gloss.
He scrunches his nose and points at me. “Your lips are shiny and there are sparkles on your cheeks.”
“You don’t think I look pretty, Mav?”
My sweet, innocent, brutally honest son tips his head to the side. “I guess so.”
All I can do is laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bud.”