Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
What would it be like if they were my family?
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Briar
“That was delicious,” Forrest says, dropping his napkin to the table. His eyes are locked on mine. “Thank you, Briar.”
“You’re welcome.” I smile, hoping to hide the effect of his deep voice saying my name does to me. Who am I kidding? It’s more than just him saying my name. It’s the man. I think back to his office earlier when I hugged him. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t make it a habit to hug men I don’t know. Hell, any man, not since I lost my dad.
“I ate mine. All gone,” Rayne tells him.
“Me too,” River adds.
“I can see that. You ladies did a great job,” Forrest compliments them.
I watch my daughters preen under his praise, proud as peacocks to have his attention. They’re all smiles and nods, being on their best behavior cleaning their plates. This is their favorite meal, but there was no encouragement needed on my end for them to finish their dinners tonight.
“Will you play with us?” Rayne asks.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell them Forrest has things he needs to do at home, but he beats me to a reply.
“You bet. Let me help your momma clean up, and then we can play.” He stands and picks up our plates before he heads toward the sink.
“Forrest, you’re a guest. You don’t have to do that.” I scramble to pick up cups and water bottles and rush after him.
“That’s not how this works, Briar. You cooked. I can clean up. It’s the least that I can do.” He places the plates in the sink and begins rinsing them off.
“The dishwasher,” I mumble.
“That I can do.” He smiles as he continues washing up from dinner.
“You know, you don’t have to stay and play with them. I know that’s probably not high on your list of things you want to do on a Thursday night.”
He stops rinsing and turns to look at me. “You’d be wrong, Briar. Your daughters are a breath of fresh air, and all I have waiting for me at home is silence. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my word and stay.”
“Yes. Of course,” I squeak. I don’t know what his motive is, but I’m going to remain on guard. The last thing I need is for my daughters to get attached to him, only for him to disappear from their lives. I know I can’t project my trust issues on them, but they’re four-year-old little girls. They don’t know who to depend on. That’s my job as their mother.
I don’t give my trust freely, but my gut tells me we can believe him. I just don’t know how long he’ll be willing to spend this kind of time with my daughters. They’re far too young to have their hearts broken.
“What about the leftovers?” he asks, placing the last dish into the dishwasher.
“Oh, I’ll take care of that.”
“Briar.” His tone is a playful warning.
“Forrest,” I parrot. I smile up at him. “Go on in and play with the twins. I’ll be right behind you.”
He studies me for several long heartbeats, until he leans in and places a kiss on the top of my head. He doesn’t say a word. Not one syllable is muttered as he saunters off to the living room. I can hear the girls talking at once and his deep chuckle, but it sounds as if I’m in a tunnel.
He kissed me.
Me.
I mean, not really, but a kiss to the top of my head counts. It’s been—never. Never has a man made me feel like this. Like my heart is going to pound right out of my chest. I realize I’m holding on to the counter and shake my head. That man has literally made my knees go weak.
This can’t happen.
He’s getting too close.
Pulling myself out of my Forrest trance, I rush to get the leftovers put away so I can join them just as I said I would. I’m certain he won’t stay long, and then I can tear apart every second of my day from the time I stepped into Everlasting Ink earlier this evening.
When I walk into the living room, I’m not sure what I expected to find. What I do know is that I didn’t expect to find Forrest with his back against the couch while he sits on the floor and lets my daughters put bows in his hair.
He looks up when he hears me and grins. “What do you think, Momma? Looks good, right?” he asks.
“We’re making Forrest pretty, Mommy,” Rayne tells me.
“I can see that.” What I don’t say is that he was just fine without the pink and purple bows. I also don’t tell them the word they’re looking for is sexy. That would be inappropriate to teach my four-year-old daughters.