Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Palmer spun around and faced me. I hadn’t been sure what I would have to deal with the first time I saw her again after last night, but to my pleasant surprise, her cheeks pinkened and she gave me a brilliant smile.
“Anticlimactic, huh?”
“What does anticlimic mean?” Charlie asked.
I rubbed the top of his head before giving him a kiss. “It means you thought Palmer was going to say something like chocolate chips and syrup with a side of whipped cream.”
Palmer laughed. “Sit down and give them a taste. Then we’ll see how anticlimactic they are.”
I slid onto the barstool next to Charlie. My kitchen had a large island, and on one end was an eating area with four stools.
“There is one thing I can say for sure,” I said. “I wasn’t using that word last night.”
Palmer glanced over her shoulder and flashed me a wicked grin. That was a good sign. I felt a little bit of the tightness in my chest slip away.
“No, it wasn’t a word I would have used either.”
Charlie looked between us, clueless about the conversation going on around him.
“Why the slip away?” I asked.
She focused back on the pancakes. “A moment of panic.”
I watched as she took them out and placed several small pancakes on a plate. After a few moments, she put the plate in front of Charlie.
“It’s Mickey!” Charlie exclaimed as I studied Palmer.
“Charlie, can your dad have some of your pancakes?”
Pushing the plate toward me, Charlie said, “You can have the ears, Dad.”
Palmer handed me a fork and a plate. I took the ears and put a little syrup on them before taking a bite. My eyes went wide as I chewed. “Okay, this is the best pancake I’ve ever had. There’s no way you put just cinnamon in there.”
She laughed. “A splash of vanilla as well.”
Charlie started to talk with this mouth full, but I raised a brow. He hurriedly chewed and then said, “I say Ms. Palmer should make all the pancakes for us from now on! She’s even better than Grammy, but don’t tell her that.”
I pretended to zip my mouth shut and toss away the key.
“Orange juice?” Palmer asked as she moved to the fridge.
“I’d love some.”
“Charlie?”
He swallowed. “Yes, please. Here, Daddy, I can’t eat all of these.”
Charlie and I shared the pancakes while Palmer told us about the time her mother made her a birthday cake in the shape of a shopping bag and filled it with different types of candy.
“Can Mrs. Barbara make me a cake for my birthday?” Charlie asked.
Palmer’s eyes misted over. “I think she would love that.”
After helping Palmer clean the kitchen, Charlie ran upstairs to play for a few minutes before our game of Twister. Me against Charlie.
Once we were alone, I walked over to Palmer. “You snuck away.”
She smiled and looked down at the floor before focusing back on me. “I will admit I had a moment where I freaked out this morning. But then I ran into Charlie, and he asked me to make him breakfast, and it felt so right. Maybe that’s silly…and it’s for sure not going slow.”
I lifted my hand and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I’m interested in going slow anymore.”
That beautiful blush hit her cheeks again. “I dare say I’m not either.”
Smiling, I whispered, “Good.” Then I captured her mouth with mine.
We quickly got lost in the kiss. Her fingers laced through my hair, and I lifted her up and set her on the kitchen island.
“I want you, Palmer.”
She dropped her head back as I kissed along her collarbone. “We can’t, Mason. Charlie’s upstairs.”
“I can be quick.”
Shaking her head, she looked me in the eyes. “The next time you’re inside me, I want it slow.”
I groaned and had to adjust my hard-on. “One touch, Palmer. Let me touch you.”
Her fingers dug into my hair, and for a moment, I thought we were going to break in the kitchen—but then the doorbell rang.
“Who in the hell would be at the door this early on New Year’s?” I asked.
The sound of little feet running down the stairs had me stepping back and helping Palmer off the island.
“It’s Grammy and Granddad!” Charlie cried out.
“Your parents?” Palmer asked in shock. I took her hand in mine, and we headed to the front door. “Thank God they didn’t just walk in.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. By the time we got to the front foyer, my parents were giving Charlie hugs and kisses.
“Palmer, what a wonderful surprise to see you here,” my mother said as she pulled Palmer in for a hug.
“Ms. Palmer made me the best pancakes, Grammy!” Charlie announced.
Mom jerked her head up to look at me, and then Palmer. “Is that so?”
“I did, with Charlie’s help of course.”
“When did you get into town?” I asked as I took a small bag from my mother.