Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Recess was always my favorite,” Beck says with a wink. “What did you learn this week?”
“We’re writing words that start with C. And we had to take something to class that starts with C. I wanted to take Pickles, but Dad said no.”
I blink at Bridger, who just laughs. This is news to me.
“Who’s Pickles?” Blake asks.
“My cat,” I reply with a chuckle. “Yeah, it was probably for the best that you brought in some carrots. Besides, you brought enough for everyone, and it was a healthy snack, right?”
Birdie nods and eats her salad.
“Hey, Brooks,” I say, after taking a sip of my water. “I have a weird noise in my car. I’m going to have to make an appointment.”
“What kind of noise?” Bridger jumps in, frowning at me.
“Just a … noise. I don’t know. A rattle? A … squeak?”
“Which is it?” Brooks asks as Bridger continues to frown. What the heck?
“Guys, I’m no mechanic,” I remind them. “It’s just a noise that wasn’t there before.”
“I don’t want you driving an unsafe car,” Bridger says, making me shake my head. Good God, what is it with these overprotective men?
“It’s not unsafe. It’s just a sound. No warning lights are on or anything. Calm down, Chief.”
Bee spews out her water with laughter, Blake’s head whips up to stare at me, and everyone else is cackling as Bridger glowers down at me.
“Excuse us,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me from the room. I can still hear the others laughing. I have to practically jog to keep up with him as he pulls me into an office and shuts the door, pinning me to it with his lower body leaning against me. One hand is pressed to the door, and the other is cupping my jaw and neck and part of my face because his hands are huge, and his brown eyes are on fire.
“Holy crap,” I whisper.
“I said no chief.” But then his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me like there’s no tomorrow. When he comes up for air, he tips his forehead against mine, breathing raggedly, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Call me that again, and I won’t let you come for a week, Dani. I’m not kidding.”
I gulp. For a week?
“But it caused this, and I like it.”
“No. I won’t tell you again.”
My eyes are pinned to his lips.
“Fuck, I want to sink inside you so bad, but this is not the time or place. Let’s go.”
Before I know what’s happening, he’s opened the door and is dragging me back to the table. There’s still so much laughter in everyone’s eyes, Birdie looks bored, and I’m saved from any further questions because Beckett’s holding up his phone, and it looks like their parents are on video call.
“Is that Dani?” Mama asks with a big smile. Their names are Brandon and Becca, hence, the Double B Ranch, but they always told us kids to call them Mama and Papa, and so I always have. Mama Blackwell is the only mother I’ve ever known. “Oh, you look wonderful, darling.”
“Hi, guys,” I reply with a wave and take my seat. “I’m crashing Sunday dinner.”
“Well, now I’m extra homesick,” Papa says with a wink.
They moved to Florida a few years ago, ready to retire from ranch life, and Mama loves Disney, so it made sense for them to be down there.
But I know that everyone misses them.
“Grandma, we rode the horses today,” Birdie says, taking over the conversation. “And I got to play with the puppies, but they’re going to find homes soon. And there are baby goats.”
“Well, that sounds like a fun day,” Mama says with a soft smile. “Did you help feed the cows?”
“Yep, and I got eggs from the chickens.”
Bridger’s hand covers mine, but I smile up at him. I’m fine.
I glance back to the phone, and I can plainly see that Mama notices where Bridger’s hand is, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
We make small talk as we finish eating, laughing at some of Blake’s stories from the ER. I might be biased, but I think Blake is one of the best doctors there is.
Suddenly, I notice that Birdie gets a weird look on her face.
“Are you okay, baby girl?” I ask her softly, but Bridger hears me and turns his attention to his daughter.
“I’m just tired,” Birdie says and leans back in her chair.
Bridger crooks his finger at her. “Come sit on my lap, peanut.”
Not needing to be told twice, Birdie walks around the table as Bridger scoots back a little and pulls her into his lap. Birdie leans on his chest, as though they’ve sat just like this since she was a baby, which I’m sure they have, and it makes my chest squeeze.
He kisses Birdie’s head and pats her back rhythmically as she settles in for a snuggle.