Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
A sense of happiness flooded my entire body. “Really?”
She winked. “Yep.”
“Can I make the guests cinnamon sugar toast tomorrow?”
“Um—” Her eyes darted toward the now empty street where her folks had been parked moments ago. “We’ll see.”
I almost laughed with giddiness. What in the hell was wrong with me? Had I really been longing for a simple life so much that making toast was a thrill now?
Yes. And it was my duty to share this marvel with the world.
Bree laced her fingers in mine as we headed back toward the house.
“You won’t be disappointed in the toast, Bree. Everyone will love it!”
She looked up at me through her lashes, clearly trying to keep from laughing. “I’m sure they will. And they won’t even realize an award-winning actor made it for them.”
Bree
It took everything I had not to laugh at the sight before me. Luke had flour in his hair, on his face, and covering his clothes. There was pasta sauce on his cheek, a blueberry inexplicably tangled up in his hair, and I was pretty sure that was a mint leaf stuck to his forehead.
“And you want to marry this man?” MaryLou whispered to me as she set the apple pie she’d made out on the counter to cool.
I sighed and took in the man I loved. He was trying to figure out how to zest a lemon for the vinaigrette dressing we were making for tonight’s salad. “I do. I really do.”
The only reason MaryLou knew about our plans to get married was because she’d walked in on Luke kissing me in the kitchen and asking how soon we could have a wedding. She’d gasped. Luke had jumped back and hit a bowl, causing fresh fruit to fly through the air. I was going to guess that was where the blueberry in his hair came from.
“Brighton, he doesn’t even know how to zest a lemon.”
Turning to look at MaryLou, I replied in a hushed voice, “Everyone has to learn at some point.”
When MaryLou could no longer stand it, she marched over and grabbed the lemon and the zester from Luke’s hands. “Watch me.”
He did as she commanded while MaryLou demonstrated. “Flip your wrist. Tap. Flip your wrist. Tap.”
“Why are you tapping it?” Luke asked.
She glanced at him and then turned the zester over. “See all the zest there? You want to get it out, so you tap it.”
“Ahh…that makes sense,” Luke stated. “How do you know how much is a tablespoon?”
MaryLou stared at him with a disbelieving expression before she calmly opened a drawer and pulled out the measuring spoons. “You know what these are?”
Luke rolled his eyes, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “Of course, I do. They’re spoons for measuring.”
“After a while, you’ll get the visual of how much a tablespoon is and you won’t need the spoons,” MaryLou said as she tapped the zester once more, and they both looked in the bowl. “That’s about a tablespoon. Now, you use the spoons and measure out the rest of the ingredients.”
I watched Luke mix the mustard, olive oil, lemon juice, and seasonings all together with a whisk that MaryLou handed him. The buzzer on the oven went off.
“The bread’s done. We have to take it out,” MaryLou said, pushing at Luke to go get it.
He looked so confused that I giggled. “Wait, I’m whisking,” he said. “I can’t whisk this and get the bread out.”
With a stern look on her face, MaryLou stated, “If I can make a whole Thanksgiving dinner while in labor with my second daughter, you can do this.”
Luke gave me a pleading look.
“I’ll get the bread out,” I said. “The sauce is simmering, and the pasta is cooking.”
MaryLou clapped her hands together and then announced, “I’ve got to run now.”
I nearly dropped the bread as Luke gasped, “You’re leaving?”
“Wait, you’re not staying through dinner?” I asked, setting the bread down on the rack.
MaryLou laughed. “Brighton, this is not the first time you’ve handled the bed and breakfast. And there are four guests joining you for dinner. You’ll be fine.”
“But it’s only me,” I exclaimed.
Luke huffed. “Hey, excuse me. I’m here, and I’m making dressing.”
I rolled my eyes. “MaryLou, I’ll pay you double if you stay. Tonight is game night. I can’t do game night alone.”
She jerked her thumb toward Luke. “You’re not alone. Your boyfriend, I mean, fiancé is here.”
“He’s a guest too,” I argued.
Dropping the apron on the hook by the back door, she exhaled and smiled. “Sorry, I’ve got a meeting I need to attend.”
I frowned. “At night? With who?”
“Four other moms who need wine as much as I do. So now that I know the two of you are good, I’m off.”
“Wait,” Luke called out. “You can’t leave us!”
Without another word, MaryLou was out the door.