Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
In the meantime, he needed to get more cash from Crew so he could do more buys at The Peach Pit.
He also needed to call his mother and ask her to make him his favorite Venezuelan dish. Pabellón Criollo. A meal she made every week like clockwork. And usually a great reason for him to stop over for a visit.
The traditional dish consisted of shredded beef, black beans, white rice, and fried sweet plantains. Only he would tell her to skip the black beans this time. For the obvious reason. He loved them but Sapphire might not enjoy what they did to him. Especially when they were naked and rolling around in bed.
The plan was to feed her, then fuck her.
A perfect Friday night in his eyes.
And scarfing down black beans might derail that.
Of course, his mother was thrilled with his request and insisted he should stop over to eat it. He felt guilty for lying to her about who the meal was for, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell her it was for a woman. Because before that sentence would even finish passing his lips, she’d have the wedding date set and the invitations mailed out. She pestered him constantly for nietos. And lots of them.
When are you giving me grandchildren, Antonio? When? Sometime before I die? Will I never get to hold one of my baby’s babies? Why do you do this to your mother?
Everything was so goddamn dramatic with her. And the guilt trip…
He sighed.
She insisted she was going to die if he didn’t settle down soon with a good woman. She would die if she didn’t get grandchildren. She would die if he didn’t come to the house for dinner at least once a week.
Rez was pretty damn sure the woman would live forever just to torment him.
To convince her to make Pabellón Criollo without him planting his ass at her kitchen table as she fussed over him, he had to tell her that he wanted one of his fellow Blue Avengers to try it. Of course, the first thing she did was invite that person over to the house, too.
Finally after a damn miracle and a bunch of excuses, she agreed to make it but only if he stopped over to pick it up.
That automatically meant a four hour visit. There was no quick stop over at the house when she was home.
He had to hear all the neighborhood gossip and also the family gossip from Venezuela. Add in him knocking a few things off her “to-do” list around the house. Like replacing the batteries in the smoke detectors or tightening a door knob. Or getting something down off a high shelf.
Basically his mother’s house was a web, with her as the spider and he the fly. He got caught every damn time.
Despite his aggravation, he loved and appreciated his mother and, truthfully, hoped she’d be around for a long time. It had been a major blow for them both when his father died.
The man was sorely missed every damn day.
He shook his head to free himself of memories that would bog him down and finished up slicing strawberries. Luckily, cutting up fruit was in his skill wheelhouse. He couldn’t fuck that up. Unless he was being judged by Chef Gordon Ramsey on his knife skills.
He had the food staying warm in the oven and was putting the prepared berries into a bowl when the doorbell rang. Instantly, his cock twitched from the memory of their short, but very hot, fuck the other day.
Tonight he was ready to make it up to her. He was showered, rested and soon would be fueled up with his mother’s good cooking. Gracias, Mamá.
After wiping off his hands with a kitchen towel and tucking the strawberries in the fridge, he headed toward the door. Opening it would be like unwrapping his favorite piece of candy.
He glanced through the peephole.
Hot damn.
He flipped open the deadbolt and flung open the door.
Fuck yes.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted, taking a step back to let her—and her overnight bag—in.
She was dressed in curve-hugging jeans, a low-cut, but loose, white blouse under a curve-fitting black leather jacket and black knee-high leather boots with a heel. She looked delicious.
“Hello, hot stuff,” she returned with a smile and a gleam in her bright blue eyes. She paused and inhaled deeply. “Something smells good.”
He leaned into her and slid his nose along her shoulder and neck. “Yeah, you. Good enough to eat.”
“I’m freshly showered so you can chow down with no worries.”
“You don’t know me well enough yet if you think not taking a shower would stop me.” He loved the natural scent of a woman, especially when she was aroused.
While she laughed, he took her bag from her. “Head into the kitchen. I’ll go put this in my room upstairs. There’s beer and a bottle of wine in the fridge. Plus, I picked up some Twisted Tea and Hard Mike’s Lemonade since I wasn’t sure what you drank.”