Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“For how long?” he asks. “Ten minutes?”
“You guys have been gone for close to four hours.” I look over and see it’s just a bit after one. “I was not going to sleep for four hours, but I did nap for two, and then I—”
“Then you got out of bed and cleaned my house and cooked?” He chuckles.
“Well, we have to eat.” I try not to laugh at him. “It’s Sunday, and I usually make us a roast,” I tell him, “but I didn’t start it on time, so baked chicken is what we are having.” His face goes to the oven. “I also made you an apple pie since you liked it the last time.”
“My father demolished the last one,” he informs me, and my mouth hangs open. “I had one piece and took it to him because it’s his favorite.”
“I should have made two.” I look back at the rack that has the pie on it. “Actually, you can take him the whole pie and we can have the peach cake I tried this morning.”
“Baby,” he murmurs softly, “I only had one piece of your pie, and it was the second-best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“The second?” I ask. One look from him and I know what the first one is. The back of my neck burns, and I immediately feel my cheeks getting pink.
“I see you got what the first thing is,” he teases in a whisper. “I’m going to go shower, and then we can have lunch. Then tonight, I’m going to have my own dessert.” My mouth goes dry while other parts of me get wet with the thought as he bends and kisses my lips softly before walking away from me.
I stand here in this kitchen that I’ve spent maybe five hours in, and I’ve never felt more at home before. Not when I was in my house, not when I moved in with Winston, and definitely not since I left him. But here, here is where you would want your family to live.
“Harmony,” Brady snaps, his voice tight, and I close my eyes. I walk toward the staircase, looking up at him.
“Yes?” I say, and his eyebrows go up at my nonchalant tone.
“You sure you napped?” he huffs out. “Because I find it very hard to believe.”
“Why is that?” I ask, biting my lower lip, trying not to laugh at him.
“You did my laundry,” he hisses and looks up to make sure Wyatt can’t hear him.
“Well, yeah,” I snicker. “It’s a surprise you still had clean clothes to wear.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” He rolls his eyes.
“I couldn’t find the basket.” I shake my head. “Now go and shower. I’m hungry.”
“It’s a shame Wyatt is here because I sure would like you to wash my back.” His eyes go into a laser-point stare down with me. “Not as happy as I would be to wash your back.”
“Go”—I use my mother voice and point at his bedroom—“or else.”
“Baby, only one person is going to be issuing orders and spanking”—he winks at me—“and we both know that’s going to be me.”
“Brady!” I gasp and look at the door, really making sure that Wyatt isn’t listening. “No dessert for you,” I scold, and my hand flies to my mouth because I didn’t mean that dessert. “I didn’t mean that dessert.”
He smirks and then gives me a devilish grin. “We both will be eating dessert tonight. Maybe even at the same time.” He turns and walks back into his room, and all I can do is shake my head. It dawns on me that for the first time in a long time, or maybe even forever, I’m really looking forward to bedtime.
“Bedtime.” I get up off the couch after the movie finishes and look over at Wyatt, who starts to protest, but you can see how tired he really is. He’s overtired at this point. After his shower, the three of us sat at the table eating as if we’ve been doing it forever. With all the food put away, Brady walked us over to our house to grab a couple more things and Wyatt’s school stuff.
He took Wyatt and made him help him with chores outside before grabbing the baseball and tossing it for a couple of hours. After we devoured lunch, we lounged around watching a movie. Until Wyatt started asking what was for dinner, which was two frozen pizzas thrown into the over and eaten in front of the television while they watched football. Something Wyatt’s never done before, and he kept asking Brady questions and, with all the patience in the world, he answered every single one. I somehow see this is going to be on my Sunday television for the foreseeable future.
“But, Momma.” He rolls off the couch, trying to protest, but stops and walks toward the bedroom.