Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Is Eli your ex-boyfriend?” Winter asks a few minutes later as I slide into the driver’s seat, and I meet her gaze in the rearview mirror.
“He is.” I buckle and press the button to turn on my car.
“Why did you break up?”
“We just weren’t meant to be together.”
“My mom says the same thing about why she and Daddy aren’t together anymore.”
“That’s sometimes what happens between adults,” I tell her softly, my heart clenching inside my chest. I know Miles and her mom haven’t been together for years. But even if that’s the way it’s always been, at least as far as she remembers, it’s still got to be difficult growing up and having her parents separated—not just emotionally but in terms of distance as well.
“Adults are so weird.”
“They really are.” I laugh and listen to her giggle as I back out of my parking space.
Standing at the stove, with the list of Winter’s spelling words in one hand and a spatula in the other, I watch her write the word because on the paper in front of her.
“Done.” Her eyes meet mine right before her attention goes to the door when it’s opened, and Miles steps inside. “You’re home!” She slides off the stool and runs across the room to greet him with a hug.
“I told you I’d be home for dinner.” He picks her up and walks toward the kitchen, smiling at me. Ignoring the flip of my stomach, I smile back and turn toward the stove to stir the meat around. “Are you done studying for your spelling test?” I hear him ask.
“She just finished.” I look at him over my shoulder. “We haven’t checked them yet.”
“Did you do your reading?” he asks her, and she lets out a groan, stating she hasn’t and doesn’t want to. “Get it done, Win. That way you won’t have to do it after dinner.” He kisses the top of her head, then places her on her feet.
“Fine.” She grabs the book sitting on the island with the rest of her school stuff, then wanders over to the couch.
“Do you want to check her words?” I ask him as he walks around the island to where I’m standing.
“Sure.” I feel the warmth of his big body seep through the material of my shirt and jeans as he steps up behind me and takes the paper from my hand. I turn my head to look at him when he doesn’t back up, and I find him looking over my shoulder into the pan.
“It smells good.”
“Tacos always smell good.”
“True.” I swear I feel his hand on my hip, but as quickly as I feel it, it’s gone.
“How was work?”
“All right.” He wanders to the island, dropping the paper he took from me and picking up the words that Winter had written out. “We’re currently assisting the state police with the case.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Only time will tell,” he says softly, coming back to where I am. “How was pickup today?”
“Good. The ladies in the office at the school were all so nice.”
“Good.” He takes his eyes off mine and quickly scans the list of words that Winter had written down as I read them to her.
“Well?” I ask when he sets the paper aside and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.
“She got ’em all right.”
“She’s so fricking smart.” I glance to where she’s now hanging over the side of the couch, almost upside down, with the book in her hands stretched out over her head. “Today, she told me some boy tried to kiss her,” I whisper.
“Did she punch him?”
“She said she was going to, but she didn’t want to get in trouble again, so she just kicked him.”
“Mmm,” he hums, and I narrow my eyes on his.
“Was it your suggestion to punch the last kid who tried to kiss her?”
“Boys need to learn early to keep their hands and mouths to themselves,” he mutters, and I shake my head.
“Well, I told her that she should tell the teacher the next time that happens, and she told me that she has tried that, but they told her not to tattle.” I watch his jaw clench. “If that’s the case, then I’m all about her defending herself. Still, I think you should have a talk with the principal, who in turn should have a talk with the staff at the school. Obviously, they need to be reminded there is a huge difference between tattling and telling a teacher about something that makes you uncomfortable and it being taken seriously.”
“I’ll go to the office tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” I mutter, and his eyes roam over my face before he shakes his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” His arms fall to his sides. “What do you need help with?”
“Do you want to warm up the shells?”
“Sure.” He steps away and grabs the box on the counter, opening it up. “How was the salon today?”