Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
"You opened the door?" I shriek out. “Sofia Bernadette,” I say her name.
"She did," Reed says, and I don’t know if he’s protecting her or not. “She asked who it was. Then she said you were sleeping." He looks down at her, smiling. “Then she opened the door when I said it was me."
"Are you going to make pancakes, Momma?" Sofia asks and doesn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Uncle Reed, can you make pancakes? I’m hungry."
"I can make pancakes,” he says to her, bending and picking her up. “But I don’t think they are as good as your momma’s." He looks at me now. “Why don’t we go down and I can cut some fruit, and Momma can get dressed?” She nods her head. “Not that I mind what you’re wearing." He winks. “But there might be other things happening we would need to explain."
I just look over at him, and my eyebrows pull together. He looks down at his jeans, seeing that his cock is awake, and my eyes go big. “I’ll be right down in clothes." He laughs, kissing Sofia’s head, and turns to walk out of the room. I get up and grab some shorts. I usually sleep in panties and a tank top. I can hear him and Sofia talking downstairs while I wash my face in the bathroom. I grab a sweater and put it over my tank top, and walk downstairs, the smell of coffee filling the room.
Sofia sits on the counter next to him as he cuts an apple for her. "You cut it the other way." She gives him instructions. “Sometimes Momma puts apple in my oatmeal," she tells him. “But you need to cut it small so I don’t choke."
"I’ll remember that,” he says. “Now, do you want strawberries and banana?"
"Yes, please,” she says, smiling at him.
"Coffee?" I ask, and he just nods. “How do you take it?" I grab two cups of coffee, filling them.
"It doesn’t matter,” he says, and I just look over at him and tilt my head. “Fine, milk, please."
I walk to the fridge, grabbing the milk and splashing a bit in both of them. “Do you take sugar?"
"Nope,” he says. Putting the knife down, he grabs Sofia and carries her to the chair. “I’m sweet enough." He kisses her nose, and I roll my eyes. He walks back to the counter, grabbing the fruit plate he made for her and bringing it to her.
"Here you go." I hand him the cup of coffee. His hand grazes mine while he grabs his cup, making my heart speed up with just his touch.
"I’ll start the pancakes,” I say, expecting him to get out of the kitchen. Instead, he stands at the far end of the kitchen, leaning back on the counter.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asks, and I look over at him while I whisk the dry ingredients.
"You can get me two eggs,” I say. He pulls open the fridge and comes back to give me the two eggs.
"Thank you,” I say, grabbing the eggs and cracking them into a bowl but only using the egg whites.
"What do you have planned today?" Reed asks.
"I have to run into town for a couple of things." I look at him as I get the egg whites just perfect. “There are some papers at the bank that I need to file for Pops." I make sure the griddle is the right temperature before scooping some batter on there. I add the oil and a little bit of butter for the richness.
"Actually." I look over at him once I put six scoops of batter. “Would you be able to watch Sofia?" He smiles. "I just figure she’d have a better time with you doing anything else but getting in the car and going for meetings."
"Well." He looks over at Sofia. “I did buy something she might like." Her eyes light up, and I look over at him.
She claps her hands together. “Is it a tractor?" she asks, and I shake my head and laugh quietly.
"It is not a tractor," he tells her. "But I’m sure you’ll love it."
"What did you buy her?" I ask, and he ignores the question when he brings the coffee cup to his lips to hide his smile, but I can tell from the crinkles around his eyes that it’s a full-face smile.
"I’ll get you plates,” he says, turning and grabbing three plates. He walks to me, one hand going to my hip while he puts the plates down beside me. “You smell good,” he says, burying his face in my hair.
"It’s the pancakes,” I say, trying to make it so he doesn’t know that my pulse has sped up with his touch. I try to make sure my chest rises and falls naturally and not pant.