Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Something tight inside him loosened. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle things. He could . . . he hoped. But together they could take care of her better.
“Tutu, what are you doing?”
“Got to clean under the cushions. It’s filthy.”
“It’s not filthy under there. Nothing in this house is filthy.”
“It is. There’s so much mess under here.”
“Tutu.” He reached out and gently grasped hold of her forearm. “Why don’t we take the cushions off and put them on the floor to build a fort?”
She shook her head. “No. Got to clean.”
What could have happened today? He tried to get her attention, but she grabbed the vacuum to clean the spotless sofa.
With a sigh, he leaned against the wall to wait until she turned it off. Except then she started cleaning the carpet.
Which was also spotless.
Brody chewed at his lower lip, fiddling with his glasses. When she turned off the vacuum, he stepped forward, ready to try and get her attention again.
“Autumn, we need to talk.”
“No time to talk.” She rubbed her eyes. “Need more caffeine.”
As far as he was concerned, caffeine was the worst thing for her right now. She was so wired she was about to climb up the walls. And he wouldn’t be able to get her down off the walls because he was scared of heights.
Okay, now was not the time for him to regress. But when he was stressed that was what he tended to do. And the more stressed he got, the younger he’d regress.
Not great timing.
Just hold on.
Papa could take care of her.
“Tutu, do you think you should drink that?” he asked as she returned with an energy drink.
“Need it to keep going. Got to fix this mess. Got to stop thinking.”
“What happened, sweetie?”
She glanced up at him, then away. Then she drew a rag out of her pocket and started wiping down surfaces. Even though she hadn’t finished cleaning the carpet or the sofa. Brody moved to pick up the cushions and put them back.
“Stop!” she said sharply.
He froze. Was he making things worse?
“Drop the cushions.”
“Okay.”
Walking to him, she wiped at the front of his T-shirt. He glanced down.
“You spilled something on your top.”
“Oh yeah. That was the pasta I had for lunch. I was trying to make a healthy choice.”
Yeah, he knew pasta wasn’t exactly a healthy choice. But his usual fare was pizza, nuggets, or burgers, so pasta seemed a lot healthier.
“Take it off.” She reached for the bottom of his sweater, tugging at it.
“Umm.”
“Off. Off.”
“Okay, sweetie.” He took it off. Underneath he wore a T-shirt that said, Have You Tried Turning It Off And On?
He liked wearing that T-shirt for Ink. Because that was usually the first thing he asked him when he complained that his computer wasn’t working properly.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at his T-shirt.
He glanced down at his top. “Huh. It looks like barbeque sauce. But I can’t remember eating anything with barbeque sauce today.” Had he washed this T-shirt before putting it on? He was certain he had, maybe it hadn’t gotten the stain out.
“Off. Off.”
“Okay.” He stared down at her wide-eyed. This was the most demanding he’d ever seen her.
She moved to the small laundry at the back of the house with his clothes. He followed her, watching her attack them with stain remover.
“Need to soak these.” Turning, she eyed him again. “Get it all off.”
“My pants aren’t stained.”
“What’s that?” She pointed at a dark spot on the front.
“That’s been there for ages.”
It hadn’t. It was from breakfast. A burrito.
“Off!” She tugged at the waistband.
“All right!” He brushed her hands away carefully. He’d already taken his shoes off at the front door, so he managed to slide his pants right off.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Got anything else that needs cleaning?”
“Umm.”
Putting the pants down, she squeezed past him and strode out to where he’d left his duffel bag. He had started keeping a few things here, but he’d also brought some more clothes over with him.
She grabbed the duffel and put it on the kitchen island so she could unzip it.
“Hey, sweetie. You don’t need to do my laundry.”
“Course I do.”
He grabbed the duffel.
“Give that back!”
He held it up high where she couldn’t reach it. “Nope.”
“Yes! Gimme!”
“No, you can’t have it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t have to do my laundry. I can do it myself.”
“Give it here!” She jumped up, trying to reach the bag. As she came back down, she somehow tripped and slammed into him.
Here we go again.
He slammed back onto the hard ground with a groan of pain.
Shoot. As he tried to take a breath, she climbed over him, straddling his lap. Then she grabbed the bag from his hands.
“Got it. Mine.”
He eyed her. “That was naughty.”
She just grinned.
“So when you said there was a situation and I needed to get here, I wasn’t quite expecting to find this.”