Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Well, mostly. Sometimes the toast was touch-and-go.
He shot me a dark look. “If you must know, I called Auntie Pat at lunchtime and asked her to put something in the slow cooker for us because I suspected we might be home late.”
“What did she make?”
“Chilli con carne.”
“Sir, are you flirting with me right now?”
He laughed, taking the turn out of the town centre. “Would you like me to be flirting with you, Miss St. James?”
“Not particularly,” I mumbled. “I just like chilli.”
“Relax. If I was flirting with you, I’m fairly confident you’d be aware of it.”
Mm.
I was quite sure that would be the case, too.
I turned my head back to look out of the window with a yawn. Today truly had been long and tiring, and the one thing we hadn’t accounted for was how many kids would be coming with their parents. Because of that, I’d had to make an emergency trip to a printing shop to have some colouring and activity pages rushed through, and I all but cleared the high street out of wax crayons in the process.
It was just one of the many errands I’d undertaken today that had required me to stop in somewhere to buy some cheap flats for my poor feet.
Thank goodness we didn’t have to go anywhere tomorrow with it being Saturday. If anything, we’d just have to stop into the store to check on things in the afternoon. I could really soak my feet and treat the blisters on my baby toes.
In the end, I probably should have just stuck with the heels instead of risking new shoes altogether.
“Chloe.” Theodore’s hand was on my shoulder, gently shaking it. “Chloe, we’re back.”
I jolted up, quickly bringing my hand to cover my mouth as I yawned. “Huh?”
“You fell asleep.” A gentle smile spread across his face. “I even took the long way around.”
I glanced at the clock. We were back fifteen minutes later than we should have been. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to get an early night.”
“No, we have to talk.” He opened his car door. “Go in, get changed, and let’s get dinner. I just need to put some rice on.”
I got out of the car. “Are you sure you can manage that?”
“From anyone else that would be patronising, but from you, it sounds like a genuine question.”
“It is a genuine question.” I retrieved my bag from the footwell and closed the car door behind me. “Use the glass bowl and put it in the microwave for twenty minutes. Don’t forget the water.”
“Now I can manage it.” He grinned, opening the door to the house. “Go on, I’ll handle it.”
“All right, thank you.” I kicked off my shoes and put them on the shoe rack, then headed straight up the stairs and into my room.
Talk.
We had to talk.
I’d almost forgotten about that with the chaos of the day. Since everyone else had arrived at the office our dynamic had been as normal, and it’d slipped my mind that the hand that had shaken so many today had been wrapped around his penis before my eyes just twenty-four or so hours ago.
Shit.
Now all I could think about was a naked Theodore in the shower.
This was going to be the worst conversation I’d ever have in my life; I was certain of it. I was going to have to pull on my professional persona to get through it and brush it off as a genuine mistake that wouldn’t happen again.
I changed out of my work clothes, tossed them in the laundry basket, and pulled on an oversized jumper dress with a hood. My tights were exchanged for thick slipper socks, and I tied my hair up into a loose bun before removing my makeup. I grabbed my phone out of my bag before I made my way downstairs to where the rich smell of chilli assaulted my senses.
“That smells so good,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.
Theodore had also changed during the time I’d been in my room, but he was missing one important component of his outfit.
“Please put on a t-shirt.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “I’ll put one on before we eat.”
Him not wearing a t-shirt wasn’t really the problem.
The problem was that the smooth, muscular shirtless top half of him was directly complimenting the grey sweatpants covered bottom half of him.
I cleared my throat. “I’d really rather you put one on now.”
“Why? What are you envisioning over there, Chloe?”
Mhmm.
What was I envisioning about, indeed? Surely not tracing his stomach muscles with my tongue.
Nope.
Not at all.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, walking to the fridge and pulling out the open bottle of wine. “Would you like a glass?”
“Do you think you could handle the sight of me shirtless, in these sweatpants, drinking wine while cooking for you?”