Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I trail off, losing my courage before I reach the end of the thought.
“You just,” he prompts, easing closer, until I could rest my forehead on his chest if I leaned in.
Instead, I lift my chin, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “You don’t feel like a father figure to me. Not even a little bit. Do I seem like a kid to you?” I inject a flirty lilt into my next words. “Do you want to give me advice and make sure I eat all my vegetables?”
His lips twitch. “Well, I am about to pull roasted cauliflower and sweet potatoes from the oven. But…no, you seem older than my son. Not to sound like an older guy cliché, but you’re very grounded. Very mature.” He rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Fuck, that sounded as gross as I thought it would.”
“No, it didn’t,” I say. “I am grounded and mature. I graduated top of my class and have a lot of responsibilities waiting for me once this summer is over. I’ve known for a long time that big things were going to be expected of me and that I needed to grow up fast.” I study him for another beat before digging deep for the last of my big ovary energy. “I’m a full-fledged adult who knows what…and who she wants.”
His lips part and his eyes blaze with the same hunger burning through my veins. He leans a hand on the fridge behind me and steps in close, making my nervous system light up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
But before Gideon can kiss me or chastise me or whatever else he might have had planned; the oven timer goes off, the beeping loud and insistent, enough to break the spell.
A moment later, a soft howl sounds from the rec room, followed by the footsteps of rampaging puppies. Bacon bursts into the kitchen first, woofing as he lifts worried brown eyes to mine.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, my voice trembling. Clearing my throat, I add, “We’re fine, no worries. It was just the oven.”
Cheese, the handsome ginger puppy emits a warble of anguish that makes both Gideon and I laugh, banishing the last of the tension.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I assure the dog. “We’re fine, and as soon as the sweet potatoes cool down, you can all have a treat.”
Egg flops down on the floor, squirming in happiness at the word, exposing the circular orange spot on his mostly white belly.
I kneel down, laughing as I rub his tummy. “Yes, a treat for all the good boys. Now that you’re sunny side up, I see why you’re named Egg.”
Gideon sets the sheet pan on top of the stove and turns to us with a grunt. “You’re right. I didn’t notice that before. Maybe egg is the perfect name for you, buddy.”
“Or Sunny.” I glance up at him, petting Egg as Bacon and Cheese squirm closer, angling for affection. “If he were mine, that would be one of his nicknames for sure.”
Gideon arches a brow. “If you’re looking to adopt, I could pull some strings.”
I shake my head. “No. Sadly, I won’t have time for a dog in my new life. It wouldn’t be fair to Sunny. And he’s so attached to his brothers. It would be nice if they could find someone willing to take all three of them.” I rotate between the three puppies, delivering neck scratches and tummy rubs. “They’re such sweethearts.”
“Sweethearts who are going to get at least two times bigger before they’re finished growing and need regular exercise and playtime. That’s a lot of work and a lot of dogs for most people. I’m sure once they’re placed in good homes, they’ll be happy with their new families.”
I stand, moving toward the sink on the other side of the stove, keenly aware of how close Gideon is as I turn on the water to wash my hands. “You’re probably right.” I glance his way, desperate to return to our previous conversation, but unsure how to make the transition.
Luckily, making eye contact is enough to thicken the air between us all over again.
Gideon runs a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve made some very good points, Sydney,” he says, and I know he isn’t talking about the dogs.
I bite my bottom lip, loving the husky way he says my name. “I have,” I agree, faking a confidence I don’t completely feel.
“But I think we should eat,” he says with a half-smile. “A person shouldn’t make decisions on an empty stomach.” He nods toward the cabinet above me. “Would you mind putting rice in two bowls while I sauté the spinach?”
“Sure,” I say, though I would rather we put off dinner until after he’s ravaged me against the refrigerator.
Or he could lift me up onto the cabinets so I could wrap my legs around his hips…