Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Viera.
Our foreheads touched.
“Duty calls,” he rasped.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to leave. What if I was dreaming? What if this moment was just a mistake on his part? Work pressure? Bad chicken?
“Divide and conquer.” He grinned. “You tell the story, I’ll tuck Ben in, and then we’ll come back downstairs and finish… dishes.”
Was he talking about dishes? Or dishes?
I licked my lips, tasting him there, wanting to taste more.
His eyes fell to my mouth. “You taste…” His jaw clenched, and then he tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Let me start over, I always thought it was cliché when in movies the guy says the girl tastes like strawberries when she hasn’t even eaten any, or that she tastes perfect and they just ate garlic fries. It’s cheesy, it makes zero sense, and it’s false advertising… but you? You taste like I imagine sunshine would taste like, warm, inviting, and then blazing hot.”
I gaped. “That was weirdly sweet.”
“I can be sweet.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve just never had a reason to be.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Uncle Ri-ip,” Ben called down. “You’re taking foreverrrrrrrr.”
“Now?” Rip smiled. “I’m being summoned.”
“Ignore him, he’ll eventually fall asleep or just yell himself hoarse. I mean, aren’t there more important things, like finishing this conversation?” I smiled back.
“Tastes good and she’s tempting. Didn’t see you coming, Colby… and that’s the truth.”
I wanted to dissect every single sentence that had just come out of his mouth. Unfortunately, Ben showed up at the top of the stairs, his little knobby knees making me laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “Adults are slow.”
“Yeah.” I passed Rip and winked as I headed up the stairs. “They really are… the slowest.”
“You’ll pay for that,” he said under his breath.
“Promise?” I called over my shoulder.
His eyes burned into mine.
It was our perfect moment, the one that defined the rest of our lives, I felt it in my soul.
And then I tripped on the last step and face-planted right next to Ben’s feet.
“Wow, Aunt Colby, you went flying!” he pointed out. “Are you OK?”
I grunted and pressed my face against the carpet. “Might just hang out here for a bit.”
Rip leaned down and whispered, “You’re cute when you fall on your face…”
I jerked my head back and stared him down. “You’re the worst.”
“No.” He held out his hand. “Now let’s hurry and get the kids to bed so I can show you all the ways I’m the best, but watch out… Lego minefield ahead.”
“It’s like they strategically put them on the floor to get us!” I stepped over each of the Legos thinking I’d finally made it, only to get a minuscule clear one between my toes.
I hissed, then pulled it out and held it up.
“Hey, I was looking for that one.” Ben grabbed it out of my hands and went over to his Lego table and put it on his pirate ship.
“Amazing.” I shook my head. “How does he even remember where they go?”
“Pffft.” Ben laughed. “It’s not hard.”
“Or maybe you’re just super-duper smart,” I offered.
“That too.” He giggled, and then, “VIERA, COME TO MY ROOM FOR STORY TIME!”
Rip yawned like he needed his ears to pop from the noise, earning a laugh from me and Ben as Viera came zooming into the room. “I here!”
“Someone really needs to have a discussion about volume in this house,” I grumbled, eyeing Rip.
“Kids, don’t yell.” He smirked at me while saying it, probably well aware that I wanted to strangle him, then straddle him to the ground and kiss my way up and down his body.
“Aunt Colby? Are you OK?” Viera tugged on my shirt. “You’ve been staring at Uncle Rip like he’s a cookie!”
My face flushed.
Rip licked his lips.
How dare he!
In front of the kids!
Damn it!
I snapped out of it. “St-story time.” I sat next to Ben on the bed and pulled Viera into my lap. “There once was a princess—”
“Who found her prince,” Rip said smoothly.
“But he turned out to be a frog,” I added with a glare.
He crossed his arms. “Maybe the frog forgot he was a prince, which meant he had bad manners. You know, when frogs live in captivity they’re seventy percent more likely to have attitude problems.”
“And you one hundred percent made that up.” I jabbed a finger at him.
“Google it,” he challenged.
“I’m not falling for that again. Last time you told me to Google about the life expectancy of a goat after it drank its own milk and I actually did it and looked stupid!”
He pressed his lips together. “Yeah, that was hilarious.”
“Goats drink their own milk?” Ben asked in a horrified voice. “Does that mean I have to drink my own milk?”
I patted his head. “Nobody’s milking you, Ben.”
“Where do babies get milk?” Viera asked.
“Er, so this frog…” I cleared my throat.