Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Cross my heart.”
“What does that mean?”
I grin as I pull into the parking lot.
“It means that I promise not to tell.”
“Okay. So, I don’t like Robert’s hair because it looks like spaghetti sauce.”
I wait, positive that there’s more to this story, but she doesn’t say anything else. So, I pull into a parking spot and cut the engine, unbuckle my seatbelt, and turn to look at the little girl who’s staring back at me with sober brown eyes.
“That’s why you don’t like him?”
“I don’t like spaghetti.” She leans her head back in despair. “We had to play duck, duck, goose the other day in the gym, and I didn’t want to touch his hair.”
“Because it looks like spaghetti.”
She nods solemnly.
“And what don’t you like about spaghetti?” Now I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever eat it again.
“It looks like Robert’s hair,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Well, sweetie, I think of all the things in the world, this isn’t so bad. You don’t have to touch his hair or eat spaghetti.”
“Okay, good. Let’s go in!”
I learned a few things during the dance.
One, little girls will dance forever if given the chance, and they give zero shits about silly things like keeping their shoes on or if anyone cares what they look like.
Two, my brother may have moaned and groaned about going to this thing, but he indulged the hell out of Holly all evening and never once frowned or complained.
Three, Robert’s hair does, indeed, look like spaghetti sauce.
And four, I am completely smitten with a little girl.
Of course, I already knew number four. I’ve had a soft spot for Daisy since the first time I met her, so I’m glad that I came tonight and that she didn’t have to sit this one out because her dad isn’t around.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Remington, keeping my voice down. We’re each holding a little girl, and both of them are passed out cold. “They danced until they dropped.”
Rem grins and waves before we go our separate ways to our vehicles. I ease Daisy into her booster seat and then drive the five minutes to her house.
The snow hasn’t stopped falling. If anything, it’s only started falling harder, which means the drive home will be an adventure.
Daisy doesn’t even stir when I lift her out of the 4Runner and walk up to the door, where Abbi must be watching because she opens it when I approach.
“I saw your lights,” she says and smiles at her daughter, her eyes softening. “She must have had fun.”
“I’ve only seen more dancing on Footloose,” I confirm, making her chuckle. “I’ll carry her up.”
“Thanks.” Abbi gestures up the stairs. I know which bedroom is Daisy’s because I helped them home a couple of weeks ago after Ryan and Polly’s engagement party.
It doesn’t take us long to have Daisy in her pajamas, her corsage off and safely in its box, and tucked into bed, and I follow Abbi back downstairs.
“Are you hungry?” Abbi asks.
Truthfully, I’m starving. And it must show on my face because Abbi grins and crooks her finger for me to follow her into the kitchen.
“I have some leftover meatloaf from dinner. I can make you a sandwich, if you want?”
“That sounds damn good.” I take off my jacket and set it on a chair at her small kitchen table, loosen my tie, and sit at the kitchen island as I roll up my sleeves. I love the way her home feels warm from the fire and from the glow of Christmas lights from the tree in the corner.
When Abbi turns back around, her eyes go wide.
“Problem?” I ask.
“No. No, of course not. You should get comfortable. Was Daisy good for you?”
“Daisy’s always good,” I reply with a grin. “She’s smart, and she listens. She had a blast dancing with her friends, and I even cut a rug with her a couple of times. That seemed to make her happy.”
“I’m sure it did,” Abbi says with a chuckle as she slices the meatloaf and sets it on the buttered bread. “My daughter is quite taken with you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“It goes both ways.” She slides the plate my way and then opens her fridge.
“Would you like some lemonade? Water? I don’t keep soda because Daisy likes it too much, so we save it for a treat. I do have beer, if you want that.”
“Water’s perfect, thank you.” I’d tell her she doesn’t have to go to so much trouble, but the truth is, I like being here with her, even though I know I shouldn’t. I take a bite and sigh when the flavor hits my tongue. “Jesus, this is good.”
So, she’s gorgeous, and she can cook. I’m fucked.
“If I’d known you hadn’t eaten, I would have fed you before you went to the dance.” She puts the rest of the leftovers away and wipes down her countertop. Abbi’s house is clean. Sure, there are a few things out here and there that show that the house is lived in, but it’s all clean. Which makes sense, given that she owns a private cleaning company here in town.