Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Well, that’s good. It must suck being so hurt all over,” she said as she started to add shit to the bowl that I was reasonably sure wouldn’t make an omelet. Not that I was an expert at this sort of thing, since most of my meals came cooked to me by restaurants. But the flour seemed more like a baked thing.
“It’s not great,” I admitted. “It’ll be better when the shoulder and ribs ease up. I can deal with the leg if every movement doesn’t make me see stars.”
“I wish I could offer you an icepack or something. But I don’t… oh, actually,” she said, abandoning her concoction to rummage through the freezer, producing some sort of… I don’t know… band. “This might be better than a normal icepack,” she said, coming over toward me. “May I?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, scooting forward to let her drape it around me, then fasten it with the velcro on my good side. “Oh, nice,” I said as the cool started on my ribs immediately, dulling the pain. “What’s this for?” I asked, then watched as her eyes went round and her cheeks went all pink. Which was cute as fuck. “Oh,” I said, figuring it was a period thing. “Right. Well, I’m glad I ended up with a girl looking after me, then,” I said.
“I actually have some CBD cream too,” she said. “I will leave that with you when I head out today to see if it helps. I think it does, but maybe that’s just a placebo thing. Oh, and I have a heating pad. Would that be better? I know for me, it can go either way. But that’s not, ah, my ribs, I guess.”
“It’s all soft tissue,” I said. “It might help. But, fuck, did the numbness the cold caused bring some immediate relief.
We talked about little things then. Like the doggy daycare she worked at, and how Samson liked going to work with her. About how she met Kingston and Savvy.
By the time she was pulling the muffins—that was what she’d been making with the flour—out of the oven, the omelets and breakfast potatoes were just finishing up too.
“This is fucking amazing,” I told her after digging in, hungrier than I’d realized as soon as I got a taste of the food.
Omelets with mushrooms, onions, spinach, and mozzarella. Muffins with chocolate chips because she said she didn’t have any fresh fruit. And the potatoes that were crispy as fuck.
Hell, she even made good coffee.
“So, are your cooking skills exclusive to breakfast food, or…”
“I can cook lunches and dinners too,” she said.
“In that case, you can fucking empty my bank account to buy groceries if you can produce more of this,” I told her, pointing my fork at my food.
Her smile was big, but she ducked her head, like the praise embarrassed her.
“So, if you could have anything for dinner, what would you want?” she asked.
“Sweetheart, whatever you think your best dish is sounds good to me,” I told her, polishing off the muffin that I saved for last.
“I could even start to pack some lunches for you,” she offered. “To eat while I’m gone.”
“That’s asking a little too much,” I said, shaking my head. My sister and sisters-in-law would likely be dropping by for lunch anyway. But AJ’s face fell at that. “I don’t want you getting burnt out doing too much,” I added. “Better just to stick to the two meals. And maybe a dessert here or there.”
“That I can manage. I don’t make a lot of dessert because I don’t usually have anyone to share it with, and knowing me, I will eat a whole tray of brownies meant for twenty people by myself.”
“I can definitely help you polish off some brownies,” I said, already salivating over the thought, even though my stomach was pushing the boundaries of full.
AJ was just gathering up the plates as I squished down the guilt I felt at not being able to help, when there was a loud rap at the door.
And AJ dropped everything in her hands into the sink with a loud clatter, her whole posture going ramrod straight.
Interesting.
“Who the fuck could that be?” I asked, half to myself. “Push me to the door,” I said.
“I’ll answer it,” AJ said, but she looked like she’d rather be covered up to her eyes in tarantulas than do that.
“Push me to the door,” I demanded, starting to scoot myself.
“Yo, it’s Mark,” Mark Mallick, my brother-in-law’s voice, called from the other side of the door.
“Christ, you scared the fuck outta us,” I told him as AJ opened the door.
“Sorry,” he said, giving AJ one of his charming smiles. “You look like shit,” he said to me.
“Thanks, man. Nice seeing you too. What’s all of that?” I asked, nodding behind him.