Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“No, no, I’m okay. Take a seat and give me a sec to tidy up. Then I’ll pour the wine.”
“Chance.”
He held his hand up like a stop sign. “I’ve got this.”
“Chance, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“Babe, don’t—” I swooped in and carried him around the waist to the opposite side of the island, out of danger. I would have kept walking to our room, but he was stiff as a board and obviously agitated. “Hey, I have shoes on and I’m dressed. Let me help.”
His wild-eyed expression unnerved me.
He hooked his thumb toward the stove and slapped his wrist where his watch would usually be. “My time management skills aren’t what they should be today, and I’m behind schedule. I just need to boil the water, simmer the sauce, and turn on the oven to toast the baguette I—oh, fuck. I forgot to buy a baguette. No worries. We can go without—ow! Holy fudgsicles!”
I grabbed his wrist and pulled a tiny shard of glass from the meaty part of his palm. “All better. Listen to me. I’m not sure why you’re so riled up, but dinner can wait. Shower first and put some antiseptic cream on that cut. And before you think about telling me why you can’t do exactly what I just said…don’t.”
Chance opened and closed his mouth. “Why? Are you going to spank me?”
I smacked his ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “Like that?”
He bit his bottom lip and groaned aloud. “Oh, my God. That was hot.”
I pressed a quick kiss on his mouth and chuckled lightly, pointing a parental finger toward our room. “Go.”
“Yes, sir.”
I watched his perky butt till he disappeared down the hall, Lord Licorice on his trail. My wide smile faded as I turned to the messy kitchen.
By the time Chance returned, I’d swept up the glass, wiped off the island, put the noodles in boiling water, and stirred the simmering sauce. I’d also put together a plate of cheese and crackers, thinking Chance might have been as hungry as I was. Which would explain a few things.
I handed him a glass of wine when he returned, freshly showered, wearing sweats, a plain black tee, and slippers. His damp brown hair curled slightly around his ears, giving him a deceptively innocent look.
“Here you go. I thought you might be hungry,” I said, putting a slice of English cheddar on a salted rosemary cracker and lifting it to his lips. “The noodles will be ready in seven minutes.”
Chance thanked me for the cracker and chomped noisily on it as he scanned my handiwork. “You even set the table.”
“Well, you’d already laid out the plates and the silverware so…it really wasn’t a big deal.”
He nodded thoughtfully and blurted, “Do you like our silverware?”
I paused midsip and furrowed my brow. “Huh?”
He wandered to the table and picked up a fork. “It’s a nice fork, but we can change it up. In fact, we should definitely keep it spicy, you know?”
“With new forks?”
“Yep! My folks have all mismatched silverware. Five plain forks, five with swirly designs, and two with stems shaped like fish. I’m a huge fan of the fish forks. I used to hide them from my siblings, which is probably why there are only two left. I was kind of a greedy little shit. Though maybe not. My brother was terrible too and my sis, the original looney tune, is—”
“I love our forks, Chance. They’re the best forks ever.” I snatched the fork away and returned it to the table. “Now, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Chance crossed the kitchen and blew out a rush of air as he sank onto a barstool at the island. “I met your ex-wife today.”
I blinked in surprise. “Elena? Where?”
“At my office. She interviewed me for a piece British Vogue is doing about modern sportswear. Our client’s new trainers are all the rage, and he wanted high-profile so, we got it for him. Elena Fitzroy. I guess she dropped the Crawford,” he finished with a quirky shrug.
“She never took my last name.”
“Ah. Well…she’s very pretty.”
“Hmm.” I moved to his side and combed my fingers through his hair. “I’m no rocket scientist, but I get the feeling she bothered you somehow. Did she say something to upset you?”
“Yes. She said she was happy for us and told me to give you her best. The nerve,” he snarked without heat. “I think I hate her.”
I chuckled softly and kissed his temple. “Don’t waste your time hating her. She’s…the past.”
“I know.” He crossed his arms and stared into space.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?”
“Does Elena have anything to do with all that ice cream in the freezer?”
Chance blushed. “It was an impulse purchase—necessary for my mental health and well-being.”
I kissed him again and pulled him against me. In his current seated position, his head rested perfectly over my heart.