Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“What’s the matter?” I ask her, and she just shakes her head. “Are you hurt?” I grab her by her shoulders and almost shake her. “Did someone say something to you?”
“No,” she says softly. “That scene was crazy good.” I watch as she blinks away tears. Wrapping her in my arms, I just stand here with my chin on her head. After the scene, I was in my head. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and I struggled with how it was going to be, but this, with her in my arms and hugging me back, was exactly what I needed. I think the last time I really hugged someone was ten years ago, and we all know how that turned out.
“Are you good?” I whisper, and she nods her head so I let her go but keep my arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I say as we walk toward the door. “Spoiler alert, he finds the daughter and they live happily ever after.”
She pushes away from me. “You are the worst,” she tells me. We hop in the first available golf cart and make our way toward my trailer. She gets her stuff, and I change out of my costume, leaving it on the bed. Opening the door, she is there with her phone in her hand. “Four million likes in two hours.” Her face is beaming as she turns the phone around and shows me. “And four thousand comments.” I walk out the door and wait for her.
“So do they think I'm sexy or not?” I ask her, walking to the waiting town car.
“Sorry.” She smirks. “It’s a no,” she jokes, and now it’s me who pushes her. She throws her head back and laughs. I open the car door for her, and she gets in. When we get to the house, I open the door, and she slowly walks up the steps, and then she stops. “What is all this?” she says, and I stop beside her. I look at the room that has so many flowers it smells like a flower shop. Numerous different bouquets fill the room.
“This is my way of saying I’m sorry, and because I didn’t know which flower you liked, I ordered one of everything,” I tell her, and she walks to a bouquet of roses and leans down and smells it. Her face is glowing. “So I called the shop and ordered everything that I could or, better yet, anything they could get with such short notice.” I look around, and there are roses in white, pink, purple, blue, red, yellow. Daisies, orchids, birds-of-paradise, and tulips. If it’s a flower, it’s in this room.
“This is incredible.” She looks around, and it really is, but it is nothing like her smile. I would do it all over again to see her smile like that. I mean, I don’t mean I’d be an asshole again, but I would do the whole flower thing again to see her smile like that.
“This has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She walks over to me and gets on her tippy toes and for just one second, my heart stops. My breathing stops, everything stops. Her hands land on my waist as she leans in and kisses my cheek. A simple and innocent move that shifts my world.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” I tell her, and then I turn and walk away to my bedroom, where I lock myself in the bathroom to take care of my raging hard-on. My cock hasn’t gotten the memo that she’s off-limits. Stepping in the shower with the hot water flowing all around me, I close my eyes and picture her lips on my neck, her hands on my cock, and then my hands in her hair, and I come whispering her name on my lips.
I debate on a nap, but I choose not to, or else I’ll be fucked tonight. So I walk in search of Erin when I hear pots banging. “Yeah, Mom. You already told me. Sauce then cheese.”
I walk into the kitchen, and she has changed out of her dressy pants into tight yoga pants with a crop top and has her long hair piled on her head. My cock stirs again. She is standing at the counter with chicken in front of her. “Mom, I have to go,” she says when she finally looks up.
“What’s going on?’ I ask, looking at two pots on the stove. Walking over, I see one has just water in it while the other has a tomato sauce that is boiling away and splashing everywhere. I lower the temperature and stir it with the wooden spoon that is on the counter.
“I wanted to do something nice, so I thought I’d make you chicken parm, but I couldn’t really find an easy recipe, so I called my mother,” she says, “and she was going on and on about how to make it, and well, I’m going to wing it and hope for the best.”