Titus – The Hawthornes (The Aces’ Sons #12) Read Online Nicole Jacquelyn

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: The Aces' Sons Series by Nicole Jacquelyn
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
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“It’s true,” I said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” he argued. “Where in the Bible?”

“You said a bad word!” Ariel exclaimed, tapping her cheek with her finger.

Titus barked out a laugh.

“Isaiah 29,” I replied to Bas. I looked over at Ariel and pressed her hand back down to the table. “Remember, we don’t point out when people say bad words. It’s rude and they already know.”

“Sorry,” Ariel grumbled.

“Bullshit!” Diana said to herself. “Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.”

Cian started laughing, his entire body shaking with it.

“Nice move, Bas,” Titus said in exasperation.

I wished I could’ve taken a photo of Bas’s horror filled expression.

“That’s a bad word,” Ariel said, staring at her sister wide eyed. She looked at me defensively. “She doesn’t already know!”

“Diana,” Titus called, catching her attention. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Bullshit.”

He looked at me with a grimace. “I tried.”

“I am so sorry,” Bas murmured.

“Diana,” I murmured, leaning down to her. “What’s sister’s name?”

“Ari.”

“And what’s his name?” I asked, pointing to Titus.

“Ty.”

“And what about him?” I pointed to Bas.

“Bas.”

“And what about him?” I asked, pointing to Cian.

“Key.”

“Nice job!” I held out my hand and she high fived me. I looked at Titus a little smugly until Diana opened her mouth again.

“Bullshit.”

After dinner the rest of the night was a little less filled with profanity. I let the girls watch the first half of The Little Mermaid with Bas as Titus and Cian cleaned up the kitchen. I tried to remind Titus that it was my job to clean up, but he waved me out of the room with excuses about the long day of moving and getting settled in before I started working.

Titus loved me.

The next week flew by as we settled into our new roles at Titus’s house. The women Heather had gathered to clean and get the house ready for our arrival hadn’t really left me anything to wash, so I spent most of my time cooking elaborate meals and watching the girls run outside. Those days were a bit magical, for all of us.

Late in the afternoon the guys would arrive home, sometimes at the same time and sometimes sporadically throughout the evening. If Bas or Cian wasn’t going to be home for dinner, they let me know, but for the most part all of us ended up around the dining room table. My girls soaked in all the attention like it was their due, and were usually falling into my bed at night after all the playing and running they had done. They loved their beds so much, but they weren’t quite ready to sleep without me yet.

I wasn’t surprised. Ariel and Diana had gone through so many changes in such a short amount of time that I was amazed at how well they were adapting. I’d seen a difference when we’d moved to Esther and Otto’s house, how they’d slowly come out of their shells at the difference between how it had been at home and their new reality—but they were blossoming at Titus’s house. The biggest difference I noticed was how relieved they seemed to have me to themselves again. During the day, it was just the girls and I, and as we fell into our new routine they lost the bit of clinginess they’d had before, becoming more secure in, well, everything. Almost overnight Diana started talking in full sentences, like she’d just been saving them up but she’d known how to do it all along.

And Titus loved me.

Now that I knew, I saw it everywhere. In the way he woke up early for work so he could take a broom to the play structure, knocking down all the webs the spiders had left overnight. How he’d oohed and ahhed at the car Otto had found for me at their garage, even though I’d known that Titus had seen it before. The little bag of lavender scented Epsom salts he’d left on the kitchen counter after I’d mentioned my feet hurting. The way he always served me first when we sat down to dinner. The little booster seat he’d strapped to what had become Diana’s place at the table so she was tall enough to reach. It was in the way he always loaded his dishes, even though he finally agreed to let me clean up after dinner, the way he asked if I needed anything on his way home from work, the way he relaxed on the couch, letting the girls cuddle up beside him to watch cartoons, the way he’d started taking his boots off at the door so he didn’t drag in anything that I’d have to sweep up. The small touches that had been sporadic at first, but became more deliberate—a hand on my back as he reached for something in the kitchen, reaching for my hand as I tried to get off the couch, brushing past me when we both knew that there was more than enough space for him to move around me. It was a million little things that he did without fanfare or acknowledgment.


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