Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
A furious, possessive expression crosses his face. “Did you have Valentine’s Day plans with someone?”
Jasper is jealous. My thighs squeeze together involuntarily, my body liking that idea a little too much. “Just with my vibrator and a steamy book.”
“Well, don’t let the snowstorm keep you from them,” he answers with a wink that makes my panties damp. He gestures for me to have a seat on the sofa. When I do, he passes me the still-warm-from-the-oven blueberry muffins.
I shake my head. “Mr. Vibe isn’t even packed in my car.”
He strokes his beard for a moment. “If only we knew someone who was very good with his tongue…”
I roll my eyes. I am not letting this man give me more orgasms. As it is, I already turn to a puddle of goo every time he looks at me. “How about you? Did you have Valentine’s Day plans that I’m interrupting?”
He disappears from the room. He returns a moment later with a big glass of milk. “You need calcium for the baby.”
I take a sip of the cold milk to wash down the blueberry muffin. A girl could want to marry the mountain man for the incredible orgasms and delicious baking. Not to mention the way he takes care of me.
He sits beside me on the couch, and I tuck my feet under me. No more foot massages.
“No plans. But I love all the holidays. Very important to me.” He nods as if he’s recalled an important speech he memorized.
I still remember the shame of being asked by the other kids at school what I’d gotten for Christmas or my birthday. I’d make up these elaborate stories about all the fun things I’d done with my mom and the cool gifts she’d gotten me.
“I’m not much for them. My mom never celebrated any holidays. She wouldn’t let me have a Christmas tree. Said it was just another day of the year. There’s nothing special about any of them.” I try to ignore the pain that still lingers. She’s gone now. It shouldn’t matter that she never cared to make anything special for me.
Jasper reaches for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Lately, I’ve been thinking miracles happen every day.”
I look down to where our hands are joined, his work roughened one against my soft palm. He’s so rugged and manly. Being touched by him always reminds me of how small and feminine I am. “I try to work through them now. It doesn’t matter if it’s Valentine’s or any other holiday. Maybe…maybe it’s different when you’re with people you care about. But I’m alone.”
“We could celebrate Valentine’s while you’re here,” he says softly.
I gesture between the two of us, needing to keep the boundaries clear. If we blur the lines between co-parents, I’ll fall in love with him. “But we’re not romantically involved.”
Something flickers across his face, the same expression he had when he was looking up at the sky yesterday before the snowstorm, like he knows something I don’t. “So, it’ll be a platonic Valentine’s Day celebration. Two friends who happen to like making truffles will have a great time on a snowy day.”
I smile at his description. It’s not the long, sweaty day that my libido is crying out for. But making chocolates is a good way to spend a day stranded with a mountain man.
Chapter 9
Thea
“The secret is to start with high quality chocolate,” Jasper explains as he passes me a large butcher knife.
I glance down at the chocolate squares on my cutting board. “I think you might have a sweet tooth.”
“These are Emma’s favorite. I usually make them for Valentine’s Day,” he answers as he searches his fridge for the heavy cream. “They’ll keep in the fridge for a week though so when the snow melts, I can get a few to her.”
I cut one of the pieces of chocolate a little harder than necessary, my knife bouncing off the wooden chopping board and leaving a minor gouge mark. “And who is she?”
He chuckles as if he finds my jealousy amusing. “Emma May is my foster mother. I came to her a little too old to be adopted, but she still took me in and treated me like another one of her sons.”
I relax my hold on the knife. “So now you make truffles for her?”
“It’s one of the few things she lets me do for her,” he explains softly. “Found the cream.”
When I’ve finished chopping the chocolate into fine bits, Jasper melts it in his double boiler, stirring in the heavy cream slowly. “Is she the one who taught you how to cook?”
He nods. “She has a sweet tooth. Guess I picked it up from her.”
“You love her a lot,” I say, noting the way his face and voice changed when he mentioned her name. It was like everything in him softened.